Oven Bake

No one can deny the comfort food factor associated with a steaming hot pot pie with its crispy crust and delicious sauce. Even if your mom never actually made one for you from scratch, at least she probably bought you frozen ones on occasion. Our version is made with lots of vegetables, and it’s a treat for meat eaters and vegetarians alike.

When I’ve made spanikopita in the past, it’s been for appetizers, so I make them a lot smaller. Everyone likes them, but they are incredibly tedious to make. These are bigger and much easier and quicker to make. Just be careful if you happen to be eating them in the car on the way somewhere, because they definitely leave crumbs all over.

For me, spaghetti sauce usually means a jar of whatever is on sale at the grocery store, so I wasn’t sure about how a spicy spaghetti sauce of my own creation would turn out. I have a tendency to forget that a little bit of spice goes a long way and end up sweating my way through meals. But this time I kept it under control and came up with something that isn’t particularly spicy at first but has a bit of a kick at the end. Spaghetti squash is the perfect way to keep calories in check. It has a taste and texture similar to pasta, but only about one-quarter of the calories.

Eggs are always a good choice when you’re on a tight budget. They are loaded with protein, you can make them a million different ways, and they taste great. I think that’s the food trifecta. If the idea of making an omelet on the stovetop intimidates you, this one is the perfect solution—just put the pan in the oven, no flipping or folding required.

In our family, this dish is usually made with chicken. Then Megan started trying to convince us that tofu was actually good. I tried it reluctantly, and I was kind of surprised to find that the tofu wasn’t bad (shocking, I know). So even though I’m not a true tofu believer, this is pretty good, especially if you use baked tofu, which holds together when you cut it up much better than regular tofu does.

This tasty recipe is like pizza, but easier. It takes about 2 minutes to prepare, looks impressive, and tastes great. Puff pastry isn’t used much in the United States, but Europeans can’t do without it. It’s really easy to work with, and the results are always perfect. To thaw frozen puff pastry, put it in the refrigerator the night before you want to use it.

Mrs. Hieu, a friend of my parents, is an avid cook, and one of her specialties is this garlicky pork. When my mother first tried the meat, stuffed in a baguette sandwich, she said it instantly reminded her of pork from her favorite Saigon street vendors. Indeed, it is so good that Mrs. Hieu used to sell her pork to Little Saigon delis in Orange County, California. Mrs. Hieu’s method calls for seasoning, rolling, and tying boneless pork shank, a funnel-shaped, rich cut sold at Chinese and Viet markets. Instead of boiling or steaming the meat in the traditional manner, she bakes it in the oven, a method that yields more concentrated flavor. That’s her secret. My recipe utilizes Mrs. Hieu’s approach, but since pork shank can be hard to roll and tie securely (the meat slides around), I forgo tying it and instead roll the meat in heavy-duty foil. Food coloring gives this cold cut its characteristically pinkish red rind, without which it is rather gray. You may decide against this superficial yet cheery touch, but it is authentic.

When ground meat or meat paste is enhanced by other seasonings and cooked in an unusual manner, rather than just boiled, it is elevated to the realm of cha, a term used for fancier charcuterie. So if the name of a dish includes the word cha, expect to be seduced. Here, the meat paste receives a dose of cinnamon, which adds a deep spicy-sweet flavor without being cloying (much as it does to many savory Middle Eastern dishes). To accentuate the perfume and color that cinnamon lends to the paste, the mixture is traditionally spread onto a large section of bamboo and cooked on a spit over a wood fire. As the bamboo spins, a chewy skin forms and a heady aroma wafts through the air. When cut from the bamboo, the ready-to-eat sausage is curved like pieces of cinnamon bark. In the States, my mom tried substituting a large metal juice can for the bamboo and an electric rotisserie for the spit. If things weren’t just right, the paste slipped off the can and was ruined. The method here, which uses an inverted baking sheet, is much easier, although it doesn’t yield the characteristic curved shape. The taste, however, is splendid, especially when the sausage is made with strong, sweet Vietnamese cassia cinnamon.

When Vietnamese cooks stuff fowl for roasting, the dressing is often made with sticky rice. These preparations, which bridge Vietnamese and French culinary traditions, commonly include lotus seeds, too. My family prefers the flavor of chestnuts, however, which we simmer in chicken stock, butter, and cilantro. The presence of shiitake mushrooms and Cognac in this recipe illustrates yet another marriage of East and West. This dressing is good with roast turkey, chicken, game hens, and goose. While you may stuff the birds, I find baking the dressing separately is easier, plus the grains on the bottom form a tasty crust. Shelling and peeling chestnuts is time-consuming, but this recipe doesn’t require many of them. For guidance on buying and peeling the nuts, see the accompanying Note.

A hybrid dish (cua means “crab” in Vietnamese, and farci means “stuffed” in French), this deviled crab is enriched by butter and employs fish sauce to amplify the brininess of the crustacean. Many cooks stuff the crab shells with the raw filling and then fry them. Because it is hard to tell when the filling is cooked, I was taught to sauté it first, which also yields a more flavorful result. I also forgo frying and instead bake the filling in ramekins, topping them with bread crumbs for a crispy finish. What makes this deviled crab special is fresh crabmeat and tomalley (liver) and fat, which you can only get if you start with a whole crab. (If you don’t like the tomalley and fat, omit them for a less rich dish.) Find the freshest, feistiest crab you can, even if it is not a Dungeness, my local species. Live crabs are available at Asian and other markets, but already cooked crabs will work, too—as long as you have a trustworthy fishmonger. Ask when the crab was cooked. And if it has an ammonia-like smell, it is over the hill, so pass it up. You will need about 1/2 pound of crabmeat.

What could be more American than a pot of baked beans? From “Beantown’s” own Boston baked beans to one of the South’s favorite sides for a plate of barbecue, baked beans are an integral part of our culinary heritage. Molasses is a traditional ingredient here; its dark, rich flavor and thick texture give the dish its characteristic sweetness and consistency. I use a little less than most folks and supplement it with a generous dose of honey to mellow it out and allow the rest of the flavorings—dark rum and barbecue sauce among them—to shine. My southwestern culinary leanings are what prompt me to use black beans. I like their somewhat firm texture, but you could certainly use traditional navy beans if you’d prefer. The fat and smoky flavor of bacon is essential. Double-smoked bacon gives you even more of that amazing taste.

Warm and bubbly with a golden brown crust, this easy-to-prepare side dish is one of my favorite cold-weather indulgences. I am a big fan of cauliflower’s soft, slightly nutty flavor and don’t think it gets the attention it deserves. It has a remarkable ability to absorb the flavors of whatever it is being cooked with, such as the rich creamy sauce of smooth Monterey Jack, salty Parmesan, and tangy goat cheeses in this gratin.

This casserole is a lot like the man who invented it—larger than life, over the top, and guaranteed to make you happy. Bud’s the name behind Royers Round Top Café, a “contemporary comfort food” oasis in, no surprise—Round Top, a 1 1/2-hour drive from Austin—that serves up heaping portions and Bud’s famous pies. Bud’s casserole is a side dish that’s hearty enough to qualify as a main course, and a great option if you have vegetarian guests coming for dinner.

Chef Quincy Adams Erickson and I worked together in Austin during my stint as executive chef for a national chain. A graduate of the famed cooking school Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, Quincy now owns Austin’s Fête Accompli, a catering company specializing in fresh, handmade appetizers. I asked Quincy to give me a cocktail party recipe for this book and, as usual, she came up with a winner. Make sure you have a small cookie cutter that will make bite-size shapes that your guests can easily pop in their mouths. Use whatever shape you’d like: circles, hearts, stars, triangles, or squares.

My mom was a veteran entertainer, and the Mexican décor of her home often influenced the menu. She insisted on doing things ahead and served a favorite casserole she called “sopa” at informal dinner parties. I never understood why she used the Spanish word for soup as the name of her casserole, but after browsing through several Texas community cookbooks, I discovered that a commonly used ingredient in a similar chicken tortilla casserole was condensed soup—cream of chicken, celery, or mushroom. Frankly, my inner chef’s code of conduct means I’d sooner come face to face with an ornery Texas longhorn than serve a casserole with a condensed soup base to my guests. But I remember loving my mom’s party sopa, and since she didn’t leave me her recipe, I created this meal-in-a-dish in her honor. I’ve nixed the soup shortcut, but I’m all for picking up a rotisserie chicken from the local market to ease the workload. Best of all, the casserole can be made ahead and refrigerated or frozen—on party day, just slide it in the oven.

For those who don’t speak Tex-Mex, chile gravy is a smooth sauce made with reconstituted dried chiles, broth, flour or some other thickener, and fat. The canned version—enchilada sauce—is stacked in grocery aisles all over the country. It’s worth the effort to make homemade, though, because fresh chile gravy is about as far from the canned stuff as Texas is from Toronto. I serve my cheese enchiladas topped with gravy, diced yellow or sweet onions, and sides of refried beans (page 161) and Rosa’s Mexican Rice (page 161).

I’m always trying to get Rosa to make chiles rellenos for the bakery’s lunch special. Customers love them and they always sell out. But they are messy and a lot of work. Even after you’ve roasted and peeled the chiles and finished making the meat filling, you’re only halfway there: they still need dipping in egg-white batter, individual deep-frying, and an immediate mouth to feed, because nobody likes cold chiles rellenos. I complained about this to Yvonne Bowden, a favorite party-throwing partner. She told me about a relleno casserole that bypassed the deep fryer. It’s still a lot of work, but the casserole configuration is more party friendly. We worked on the dish together and Fiesta Chiles Rellenos were born. Serve with small bowls of Beans a la Charra (page 150).

Last year, my cousin Gloria showed up at our homecoming reunion with a huge pan of baked beans topped with a layer of walnuts. Walnuts? Walnuts are my least favorite nut, and I’ve never seen them paired with baked beans. But Gloria is a fine home cook, so I asked her where she got the idea. “I dreamed it last night,” she said. I tried her beans, and those crispy, toasted walnuts added a lovely crunch to an old standby. By adding walnuts to beans, Gloria has given a delicious new meaning that old maxim: “Live your dreams.” I can’t wait to see what she “dreams up” for next year’s homecoming.

In these parts, everyone knows that “low and slow is the only way to go” when it comes to making barbecued brisket. Whether prepared in the oven, on the grill, or in an old-fashioned barbecue pit, it takes hours and a gentle heat to transform this tough cut into the tender, flavorful dish that shows up at shindigs throughout Texas—from UT tailgate parties, where on game days folks set up steel-drum barbecues in parking lots during the wee morning hours, to family get-together, ranch weddings, and backyard cookouts. My mom, who adored brisket, took it often to parties and family events, and I’ve recently resurrected the tradition. James De Wolf helped develop this recipe. I carted our brisket halfway across Texas—from Frederickburg’s five hours’ drive east to Long view—to share it with my family at our annual homecoming potluck.

When I was a teenager, summer meant the beach. If I was lucky, I’d arrive in time for one of the great big beach-bonfire fiestas staged frequently by my friends, complete with roasted weenies, just a touch of beer (I swear!), and my total favorite—bonfire s’mores. Sadly, times have changed. Only a few Texas beach communities allow bonfires, so I came up with a s’more cupcake that puts me into a beach party mood no matter where I happen to be. The only fire necessary to bring their marsh mallow topping to the pitch-perfect golden brown of a genuine s’more is the skinny blue flame that shoots from my portable kitchen torch. These cupcakes are sure to bring smiles to just about any kid who shows up for a casual party, whether it takes place in the kitchen, at the shore, or on a beachfront deck. Now that my daughter is a seasoned college student, I make the cupcakes in advance, and whip up the marshmallow topping just before party time. I provide disposable plastic pastry bags fitted with open star tips so Fran and her friends can decorate the cupcakes themselves. Then it’s time for me to pass the torch—the kitchen torch, that is. Now that I think of it, it’s not the only torch I’m passing.