Make Ahead

Editor's note: Use this sauce to make Myron Mixon's Smoked Whiskey Wings . I have heard people eating barbecue at festivals say that "the sauce makes the barbecue." It's not true. The smoke makes the barbecue. The sauce is a finisher. It's what you put on your meat after it cooks to enhance its appeal. It can add a great punch, but I've had plenty of delicious barbecued meat with no sauce at all. I've been around barbecue sauces of different stripes all of my life. My family's sauce recipe, which my parents were just beginning to market when my father suddenly passed away, is what got me into cooking competitive barbecue in the first place. We have always preferred a hickory-style sauce, meant to closely evoke and complement the flavor of hickory-smoked meats. It's world famous and a secret recipe, so the only way you'll taste the original is to order it from me, but if you insist on not giving me your business, here's a reasonable approximation that is still damn delicious.

Rainbow chard is especially pretty pickled, but any variety will work.

This pesto is an inventive way to use every part of the vegetable. The tender tops are fresh and clean-tasting and mimic the flavor of the carrot itself.

For the record: Sherbets may contain some dairy, unlike sorbets, which do not.

A dollop of yogurt keeps these pops from being too icy, and we love the way the ginger adds a little spice.

Grill the tomatoes just before you place the eggplants in the coals.

Rinsing the cooked couscous stops the cooking and prevents it from sticking together as it cools.

Look for thicker fish fillets, which will give you the ideal breading-to-fish ratio.

Squeeze out as much liquid from the zucchini as possible.

You can use this simple formula to wake up the Beer-Can Chicken , add another layer of flavor to the Barbecued Chicken , or sass up plenty of things that aren't poultry, like pork, steak, or vegetables.

Serving "green stuff" to kids can be a challenge. But a crunchy salad of bite-size vegetables holds plenty of appeal.

Fold cardamom-scented plum compote through a mixture of whipped cream and meringue; then freeze for an airy, creamy, sliceable summer dessert.

In Texas, barbecue is about beef: specifically brisket, the cut by which any joint is judged. Brisket has become a favorite of restaurant chefs, too, hence the smoke ribbons and Hank Williams songs drifting out of restaurants as far away as Brooklyn. But can great brisket be made at home? I devoted a weekend to the task and learned that with a few key ingredients— salt, pepper, patience, and advice from Aaron Franklin, my neighbor and the pitmaster at Franklin Barbecue in Austin—swoonworthy results are doable. You just have to take the time—12 smoky hours. Brisket (from the cow's breast or lower chest) is rich in connective tissue, so it requires a low-and-slow process to relax the muscle into tender goodness—a pleasure that can't be achieved with a quicker method. Luckily, those first unforgettable bites are worth the weekend. So let's get started.

Lillet, a fruity, easy-drinking fortified wine, is a staple in Chef Ripert's summer pantry.

Feel free to experiment with other seasonings besides sumac, like lemon zest, za'atar, or crushed red pepper flakes.

These are fairly large and entrée-sized. If you want them smaller, reduce the cook time by a few minutes.