Roast

Mushrooms, acorn squash, and rosemary lend a woodsy taste to roast chicken. We used cremini mushrooms, but regular white button mushrooms can be substituted.

For a break from roast chicken, try these smaller hens, which cook in about half the time it takes for a chicken. If you like, substitute four bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts (10 to 12 ounces each) for the Cornish hens.

Since both the pork and the salad can be served at room temperature, this is a great make-ahead meal. Prepare it late on a summer evening, once the temperature has dropped, and serve it the next day, when it’s too hot to cook. The black-eyed pea salad also pairs well with barbecued chicken.

The combination of lemon zest, raisins, and pine nuts was inspired by condiments popular in Southern Italian cooking. Try the lemon relish on chicken or pork, or even as a topping for steamed broccoli.

I wasn’t enthused about this recipe idea and was not particularly happy when I had to test it. In my opinion, the world didn’t need another mushroom burger. But I went to work and was quickly finished. “At least it didn’t take very long,” I mumbled. I bit into it, expecting the standard, run-of-the-mill mushroom burger you get in every restaurant nowadays, but then I had to pause mid-chew. This was no normal mushroom burger. This—this was a luau in my mouth! Okay, maybe that’s a tiny overstatement, but this is so easy and good, there’s no reason not to make it.

In my experience, wraps can go either way: sometimes they completely hit the spot, and other times they’re just boring fuel. This one always falls into the former category. Besides the fact that the colors of the food make it pretty (I know that sounds lame, but it’s true), the red pepper and avocado are an awesome combination of flavors and textures. It’s a little time-consuming to roast the pepper, but it’s so delicious that you’ll be glad you did it. Plus, you only need half of the pepper for each wrap, so you can store the other half to make another wrap in a jiff within the next few days.

When my nieces and nephews were toddlers, they loved this oven-roasted pork, tinged with char. They requested it whenever they visited grandma’s house, and she would cut it into tiny pieces and serve it atop sticky rice. I share their enthusiasm but savor the pork in many other ways, too: with regular rice, as a filling in steamed bao (page 265), stuffed into baguette sandwiches (page 34), added to wonton noodle soup (page 222), and as part of moon cake filling (page 300). A mainstay of Chinese barbecue shops and a Viet favorite, xa xiu is the Vietnamese transliteration of the Cantonese char siu (thit means meat.) To make the pork look appetizing, it is often prepared with food coloring, sold by the bottle at most Viet markets. But chemical coloring isn’t needed here. The marinade imparts an appealing reddish brown.

These crunchy, nutty rice crackers flecked with white or black sesame seeds turn up in a variety of roles on the Vietnamese table. They may be munched as a snack, used like a tortilla chip to scoop up food, or crumbled and mixed into dry noodle dishes. Although I prefer bánh đa crunchy, some folks add them to noodle soups, where they soften into chewy accents. They may even be soaked in water until pliable and then wrapped in rice paper with other ingredients to create hand rolls. These unique crackers are mostly available at Viet markets and delis and at some Chinese markets with a large Vietnamese clientele. They are usually stocked near the rice paper. Dried and untoasted, the crackers look like translucent rounds of hard plastic. Eight-inch ones are easiest to work with. Look for them bundled in short stacks of six to eight, wrapped in plastic or packed in bags and sealed with staples (which means they are probably locally made and very good). Pretoasted crackers are often broken, so skip the convenience and buy them untoasted. Once toasted and cooled, the crackers are broken into lovely shards and served. Here are two options for toasting them.

Vietnamese cooks roast chickens in three ways: on the stove top in a pan with a little liquid for succulence, over charcoal for charred smokiness, or in the oven for crispy skin. The method mostly depends on the kind of heat source available. For example, ovens were traditionally luxurious home appliances in Vietnam. In 1966, my mom’s oven was a metal box indirectly heated by hot charcoal set underneath and/or on top. When the Americans came, she was able to salvage a modern oven for her Saigon home kitchen. After we arrived in America, Mom delighted in roasting this easy garlicky chicken for our family. With a reliable oven and affordable chicken, we ate ga ro-ti regularly with rice for dinner, sliced up and stuffed into a baguette sandwich (page 34) for lunch or a snack, and arranged atop sticky rice (page 246) for breakfast or lunch. When preparing ga ro-ti (which takes its name from the French term for roasting), use the more succulent parts—drumsticks, thighs, wings—for the best flavor.

This sauce is wonderful served on its own, but paired with Red Chile Sauce (opposite) and served with eggs (Blue Corn Fried Eggs, page 219) or fish or pork or chicken, it becomes known as Christmas. Why? Christmas is known for its red and green colors! In New Mexico restaurant lingo (Sante Fe to be exact), Christmas means a plate of half-red and half-green chile sauces. The New Mexico terminology has spread to some other states in the Southwest, such as Arizona and Texas.

Sweet potato pie is as southern as desserts come. Though it is a favorite in the soul food repertoire, you do not often see it on tables north of the Mason–Dixon line and west of the Mississippi. A traditional ending to Thanksgiving dinner, this silken pie is due for a nationwide comeback as a delicious finale to any fall or winter meal. I love to see an ingredient cross the preconceived boundaries of savory and sweet, and the naturally high sugar content in the potatoes makes its shift from dinner to dessert a seamless one. Yes, you could serve it with store-bought vanilla ice cream, but time dedicated to making your own rich ice cream studded with buttery clusters of cinnamon-spiced graham cracker crumbles is time well spent. Everyone at your table—Thanksgiving or anytime—will be glad you did.

This is a fantastic fall dish. The great thing about venison is that it has very little fat and is quite good for you. Red cabbage is a classic accompaniment to venison, especially in the Germany-influenced cuisine of France’s Alsace region. Baking the cabbage into a savory bread pudding Americanizes the traditional combination. The purple ribbons look beautiful running through the golden currant-studded, clove- and ginger-scented pudding. Baking the cabbage also mellows its somewhat astringent quality, making it accessible to those who may be less fond of its assertive flavor. Concord grapes are in season for a very short period of time, and their delicious, juicy, sweet-tart flavor is a highlight of the season. This sauce calls for Concord grape juice, which is always available, even when the grapes themselves are not.

Brussels sprouts used to be up there with lima beans on the list of vegetables people claimed to hate, but I think they’re having an overdue resurgence in popularity. These roasted Brussels sprouts are tender yet firm and have a wonderful nutty, earthy flavor. Rich hazelnuts add texture, as does the tart pop of garnet-colored pomegranate seeds. This is a beautiful fall side dish.

Look no further for your next special-occasion meal, because this is it. Also known as a standing rib roast, this cut—tender, juicy, and loaded with flavor—is the king of beef. And as long as we’re celebrating, this dish is pushed to its over-the-top status by the accompanying béarnaise butter. This deceptively simple compound butter with shallots, tarragon, and a bit of tangy vinegar delivers the delicately herbal, luscious taste of a rich béarnaise sauce without the hassle and heaviness of its hollandaise base. The only thing I find lacking in most prime rib dishes is that crusty exterior I love, but I’ve taken care of that by borrowing a technique from my friends in Louisiana—blackening. It encrusts the luscious meat in an extra layer of flavor and texture.

Brine-packed green peppercorns have a sharp, fresh, and somewhat fruity flavor that is less pungent than you might imagine coming from a peppercorn. Roasting asparagus to crisp-tender deepens its “green” flavor, and the dark blisters it acquires in the oven are especially tasty. Asparagus has a distinctive flavor, and this vinaigrette walks a delicate line, standing up to that flavor without overwhelming it. This simple side is a favorite of diners at Bar Americain.

Ray Charles must have been in my head when I designed this dish, because it’s all about Georgia. The green tomato–peach relish is a natural, and not only because both ingredients are beloved by Georgians. The tartness of the green tomatoes is evenly matched by the honey sweetness of the peaches, and the resulting relish is fresh, incredibly flavorful, and totally balanced. Pork tenderloin is lean, has very little fat, and cooks quickly, so your kitchen stays cool while you eat well. This really is a wonderful summer dish.

This is a total throwback to a classic dish from my childhood, pork chops and applesauce. I bet I’m not the only one who enjoyed this weeknight staple both growing up and today. But there’s far more to this dish than nostalgia; pork and fruit, especially apples, make a fantastic combination. Soaking the rack of pork in a savory apple juice brine delivers great results—the naturally mild, lean meat is thoroughly infused with flavor and moisture that won’t cook out in the oven. Brining is a vital step in producing this juicy, flavorful pork. The deep molasses-mustard glaze and pan sauce finished with sour mash whiskey are Tennessee touches that I never had growing up, but I think the next generation will appreciate this new spin on an American classic.

Dirty rice is a traditional Cajun dish of white rice cooked with chopped chicken livers. The liver darkens, or “dirties,” the rice and infuses it with its mild yet distinctive taste. My version is classically flavored but prepared in a not-so-traditional manner: I use Arborio rice, cook it as I would a risotto, and fold in cooked wild rice as one of the last steps so that its nutty flavor and chewy crunch run throughout the dish. I think of this as a Louisiana-style dish, and the southern flavors of deep bourbon and sweet, crunchy pecans are fitting accomplices to the rich duck and aromatic rice.