Keto

Cauliflower is another one of those vegetables that gets a bad rap. Yes, it’s in the cabbage family, and when the cauliflower is raw, the connection is easy to identify. Take a page from the Italians, then, who aren’t afraid of oil and know that giving some vegetables a dip in the fryer brings out their best characteristics. In this case, the cauliflower turns sweet and silken; add in some smoky shreds of ham hock and, well, you’ll be begging to eat cauliflower more often. Ask your butcher to split the ham hock for you; they have big saws for that very purpose. And don’t you dare throw away the liquid left over from boiling the ham hock. One bonus of this recipe is a soup waiting to happen.

This is a very grown-up salad and my idea of a fantastic lunch. It also happens to be a great way to use loins left over when you’ve braised or stewed the richer, darker pieces of your rabbit. Like pork tenderloin or filet mignon, rabbit loin can’t take that sort of cooking. Give it a quick sear instead, and toss it with crisp pancetta and frisée in a Chianti vinaigrette. You’ll find yourself making rabbit more often just to end up with spare loins.

Uni, or sea urchin roe, is at once delicate and incredibly rich. I like this preparation because the chive and radish offer a bit of bite and cut some of that richness, while the lemon and cucumber contribute a breezy freshness. Because the portions are small, make sure you cut the vegetables into a very fine, uniform dice. This would make a very elegant passed appetizer at a cocktail party. You can find fresh uni packaged in trays at Asian markets.

Spot prawns are actually shrimp, though they do sport four white spots on their shells, which makes the name at least partially accurate. By any name, these firm, sweet, and delicate aquatic beasties are a Pacific delicacy shown to their best advantage when served as a crudo and accented with clean flavors. If you can’t find live spot prawns or other sashimi-grade shrimp, scallops, ahi, or albacore would all work nicely with the chile and mint. Wait to combine the chile, mint, and lime until you are ready to serve so that the lime juice doesn’t “cook” the mint.

Some people will tell you that it’s okay to make carne cruda, known as “steak tartare” in fancy French circles, in a food processor. Sorry, no go. You don’t chop it, pulse it, or otherwise mangle it. You freeze it, slice it, crosscut it, and dice it. Period. Yes, chopping the meat by hand requires patience, but it creates the perfect texture. Freezing the meat beforehand makes this job easier. This is one of those recipes where you must use the very best ingredients you can find—the best olive oil, the best imported anchovies—to take this crudo over the top. Buy the best New York strip or tenderloin you can afford, and tell your butcher how you’re serving the meat to ensure you get the very best. For a light meal, serve with plenty of crusty bread and a small salad.

Two things you should know about me and carpaccio: First, I don’t like carpaccio you can see through; I cut mine a little thicker, which gives it better texture and body. Second, I like my carpaccio loaded, the way some people think of nachos or pizza. Here I use some bococcini de pecorino that we keep in the restaurants and some tender baby arugula, but you could use shaved porcini mushrooms, shaved raw artichokes, or sautéed chanterelles—whatever you like. Just load it up.

I give my version of classic pickle relish a twist by using green tomatoes and cabbage rather than the usual cucumbers.

My mom used to cook greens in such big batches that she would wash them on the rinse cycle in the washing machine. For her, a “mess” was a discrete unit of measurement equal to approximately one large grocery bag full. I think most Southerners operate under this assumption, at least as far as greens are concerned. It may seem like you’re starting out with far more greens than you’ll ever need, but keep in mind that they’ll cook down quite a bit. If they don’t all fit in the pan at first, start with as many as will fit and add to the pot as the greens cook down.

Elegant and timeless, roasted prime rib is my idea of the quintessential dinner party centerpiece. The best part is that, unlike many other “fancy” dishes, it couldn’t be easier—just pop the roast in the oven and let it do its thing. The meat should be allowed to marinate at least one full day or night, but if you have the time, let it dry in the refrigerator for up to two days; doing so tenderizes the meat and intensifies the flavors. Either way, ask the butcher to leave the bones attached to the meat, which ensures that the roast will be juicy and flavorful.

I grew up on this everyday pot roast, which each member of my family makes with his or her own special twist. My mom swears simple is best, with nothing more than meat and vegetables to flavor the dish. I, on the other hand, add wine, broth, and herbs to maximize the flavor of the meat, and I roast most of the vegetables separately so they get nice and caramelized on the outside and soft and sweet in the center.

In the cattle-ranching heartlands of Texas, barbecue usually means beef, not pig, and brisket—which comes from the animal’s lower chest—is hands down the most popular. A little patience and a few hours of smoking or braising transform this relatively tough cut into the most succulent, falling-apart-tender meat you’ll ever eat. Part of the trick is marinating the meat for several hours or even overnight prior to cooking, so be sure to factor in this additional “inactive” prep time. To avoid standing over the grill for six to eight hours, I start the meat on the grill for an infusion of smoky hickory flavor and then let the oven do the rest of the work.

Roasted fillet of beef was a standard at my mom’s house during the holidays, and I always crave it when the weather turns crisp. When I make it, I start the meat on the grill for extra flavor and finish it in the oven, where it cooks more evenly and comes out juicy and tender. It’s a no-fail method that ensures a perfectly cooked fillet every time.

Meatloaf, like chili, is something I make when I have a dozen or so little jars of something-or-other in the fridge that need to be used up. That’s how I came up with pickled jalapeño, which adds a nice kick to this otherwise traditional meatloaf. In this version, a little pork adds extra flavor to the mix. It makes for a delicious and hearty meal, but it’s great for leftovers, too, which can be used to make sandwiches that are as scrumptious as they are out of the ordinary. Peter loves open-face meatloaf sandwiches topped with a fried egg.

Forget the grill; Southerners have been pan-searing steak in cast-iron skillets since what seems like the beginning of time. That’s true enough in my family, where “let’s fix a steak” translates directly to “put the skillet on.” According to my brother-in-law, Pat, the best way to eat said pan-seared steak is hot out of the skillet with a fat knob of butter melting away on top. He’s right, of course, and this dish—embellished with a profusion of fresh green herbs—is for him.

Here is a convenient way to duplicate succulent, hickory-smoked pork barbecue with only a fraction of the fuss. Just pop a pork butt in the oven, then finish it off quickly on the grill for smoky flavor, and voilà: a tender heap of slow-cooked, vinegar-spiked meat that you’d never know hadn’t spent the whole day over the coals.

This dish—an adaptation of an Anne Willan recipe I used to make at the Soho Charcuterie—is what my dad most often requested when I came home to visit. Rillettes are a classic French preparation similar to pâté that are made by slow-cooking fatty meat until it falls apart, packing the meat in the rendered fat, and allowing it to congeal. The resulting rough spread pairs elegantly with Rosemary Cheese Crackers (page 8) or Cornbread Toasts (page 18), grainy mustard, and pickles. The most important thing to keep in mind is that rillettes need to cook very slowly at a low, steady temperature, so make sure the cooking liquid doesn’t boil once you put the dish in the oven.

Memphis is known for its dry-rubbed barbecued ribs, which are all about intense spices and the unadorned texture of low-and-slow-cooked meat. The two-step cooking process I use here—the meat is first slow-cooked in the oven, then finished over a hot grill—ensures succulent, crispy-edged, tender ribs every time, rendering sauce fully optional. Even so, sauce person that I am, I usually can’t help myself from cooking the meat in beer and basting it with vinegar-based barbecue sauce for a little added flavor and tang. You can try making these ribs with and without the sauce and decide for yourself. Either way, you’ll need to let the ribs marinate for at least two or three hours before cooking.

The assertive flavors of coffee, molasses, and balsamic vinegar meld and mellow in this sophisticated dish that is just the thing for winter entertaining. It is best served with simple sides, such as Mess o’ Greens (page 245) and Sweet Potato Spoon Bread (page 214), that enhance rather than distract from the sweet, rich molasses flavor of the pork.

I often serve this dish when I have guests because it makes for such easy entertaining—something you’d never know from the complex combination of flavors that emerges as the red wine and orange-spiked pepper jelly melt into a sweet and spicy glaze over the heat of the grill. Don’t forget to budget at least two hours of marinating time before firing up the grill.

Guinea hens are birds, related to pheasants, and are an excellent and highly flavorful alternative to chicken. Because they’re smaller—usually two or three pounds—even whole birds cook quickly and yield just the right amount of meat for one meal. If you can’t find guinea hen, a small chicken will do the trick nicely.