423 recipes. Page 14 of 18
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Grits simmered in equal parts water and milk turn into a soft, porridge-like base once cheddar and butter melt in. The shrimp cook in the fat left from crisping bacon, picking up a smoky, salty edge along with the paprika, and the bacon goes back on top. Grits catch on the pot easily, so scraping the bottom and sides throughout keeps them smooth and free of lumps.
In this Greek pie, sheets of filo, each brushed with butter, are layered around a semolina custard, and a syrup of sugar and honey goes on after baking. Semolina leaves the custard faintly grainy in a way a flour-thickened one is not, and lemon zest scents it. The syrup is cooled to lukewarm before it meets the hot pie, which keeps the top layers crisp while the bottom soaks it up and turns soft.
Potatoes, corn, smoked sausage, and shrimp all cook in one pot of salted, paprika-seasoned water, added in order of how long each needs. The potatoes get a head start, the corn and sausage follow, and the shrimp go in only for the last couple of minutes. Drained and tossed with melted butter and lemon juice, everything is tipped out onto a large platter or table for a crowd to eat with their hands.
Eaten across France around Epiphany in January, this pie seals an almond frangipane between two rounds of puff pastry. A small porcelain charm, the feve, is hidden inside, and whoever gets it in their slice is king or queen for the day and wears a paper crown. This version adds a little rum to the frangipane. A leaf or swirl pattern scored into the egg-washed top bakes into a sharp, glossy design.
A roux of butter and flour, stirred only to light brown, gives etouffee both its nutty aroma and its body. Taken darker, it turns bitter and overpowers the delicate shrimp. Onion, celery, and bell pepper go straight into the hot roux, and their moisture loosens it before chicken stock is whisked in a little at a time. Compared with shrimp creole, the sauce is brown and buttery rather than tomato-red. The shrimp cook in it only briefly at the end and are served over rice.
Toasted puffed rice and sesame seeds, the core of gangjeong (Korean puffed-rice and seed sweets), are folded into a brown-sugar cookie dough. A little glutinous rice flour in with the wheat lets the dough spread thin, and the baked cookies crumble lightly when bitten.
Sirloin gets a dark crust over high heat first, then a short basting with butter, crushed garlic, and rosemary once the heat drops to medium. Splitting the two stages keeps the butter and garlic from scorching in a pan hot enough to sear. Drying the sides as well as the faces helps the crust form evenly all around. Slice against the grain and finish with a squeeze of lemon.
The croffle, a café favorite, is made here from store-bought frozen croissant dough and finished savory with garlic butter and grated Parmesan. Left shut in the waffle iron too long, the pastry dries out hard, which is why the first one gets cut open to check for raw dough before the rest go in.
Ground beef simmered with ketchup, tomato paste, Worcestershire, and a little sugar turns into a sweet and savory filling piled onto soft buns, meant to drip as you eat. Browning the beef until its moisture cooks off keeps the sauce from going watery once the tomato paste and ketchup are in. The finished mixture should hold on a spoon and slide off slowly; any looser and the buns soak through and collapse. Toasting the cut sides of the buns dries their surface and slows how fast the sauce seeps in. Pickles on the side balance the richness.
Seventy percent dark chocolate and butter far outweigh the flour, so the cake bakes dense and close to a truffle rather than a sponge. Separating the eggs and folding in a meringue keeps it from being heavy, and it melts softly instead of sitting like fudge.
Two thin patties stacked with melting American cheese give each bite more dark crust than one thick burger would. The beef, 20 percent fat, is shaped into loose cold balls and smashed flat on a very hot cast-iron skillet, once and only at the start. Pressing again after the meat starts cooking squeezes out juice and leaves the crust patchy. A thin-edged metal spatula wider than the patty scrapes under that crust at the flip, so it lifts with the meat instead of staying stuck to the pan. A tangy mix of mayo, ketchup, and yellow mustard plus pickles cuts the richness, and butter-toasted brioche buns hold it all together.
Molasses turns the dough deep brown and gives the sweetness a slightly bitter edge. With ground ginger and cinnamon worked in, it is cut into little figures, baked, and decorated with icing eyes and buttons once cool. The edges should be crisp and the middle faintly chewy, and kept airtight, the spice grows stronger over a day or two.
In this Benedict, smoked salmon takes the place of ham and brings its salty, smoky flavor between the toasted muffin, a poached egg, and hollandaise. The sauce is whisked from yolks and lemon juice over water that only steams, with warm melted butter added in a thin stream, and hotter water would set the yolks and break the sauce. The eggs poach in barely trembling water with a splash of vinegar, and 3 minutes 30 seconds leaves the whites set and the centers soft. Once cut, the yolk runs over the salmon and muffin as a second sauce. Since the eggs, sauce, and muffins all need to land at the same moment, melting the butter first and keeping it warm sets up the rest.
Rolled thickly in powdered sugar, the dark chocolate dough cracks open as it bakes, leaving white crackled tops over deep brown seams. A small amount of gochujang (Korean fermented chili paste) adds gentle heat and a savory, fermented note after the sweetness without announcing itself. The texture lands between a brownie and a cookie: a thin crisp shell around a soft, fudgy middle.
Sole fillets, dusted lightly with flour, fry in butter until golden; the butter left in the pan is then taken further until it browns and smells of toasted nuts. Lemon juice and parsley stirred into that brown butter make the sauce, its acidity cutting the richness. The window between brown and burnt is short, so the heat comes down the moment brown specks and a nutty aroma appear.
Dried persimmon and cinnamon are already a familiar pair in Korea through sujeonggwa, a cinnamon punch traditionally served with dried persimmon. Here chopped gotgam (dried persimmon) is rolled up with cinnamon sugar, and it runs along the spiral of every slice and pulls apart chewy and jammy. The rolls come out as soon as the edges turn golden; any longer and the fruit dries out again.
A dark, crisp crust and a pink, juicy center come from heat and a dry surface rather than from seasoning, which stops at salt and pepper. A damp steak in a pan that is not hot enough turns gray instead of brown. Butter melted with garlic and rosemary near the end gets spooned over the meat, adding a nutty, herbal layer to the crust. Potatoes on the side turn it into a full plate.
Finely grated Gruyère folded into choux paste and piped small bakes into savory cheese puffs. The eggs go in until the paste drops slowly from the spatula in a V, not by count, so some beaten egg may be left over. Only trapped steam holds up the hollow centers, and opening the oven door before the shells set will collapse them.
Coarsely crushed peppercorns pressed into the sirloin give every bite a sharp, aromatic crackle, while finely ground pepper would add heat but lose that fragrance. The sauce comes from the same pan, where the browned bits left by the steak meet shallot, brandy, cream, and Dijon. Cream rounds off the pepper's bite and the mustard adds a quiet acidity that keeps the sauce bright rather than heavy.
The round shape and sweet red bean filling come from Gyeongju-ppang, a Korean bean pastry, but the wrapper here is a soft milk-and-butter yeast dough. It does not try to copy Hwangnam-ppang with its thin skin and stamped top; expect a bread bun instead. Ready-made red bean paste skips the bean cooking, though the filled buns still need a second rise, which puts the whole schedule at about three hours. In a cool kitchen the dough rises more slowly, and its volume is a better guide than the clock.
Steak frites lives or dies on two techniques at once: a well-seared sirloin and properly double-fried potatoes. The first fry at 160°C cooks the potato sticks through while they stay pale, and the second at 190°C turns the outside crisp and golden. Soaking the cut potatoes in cold water first washes off surface starch so they do not stick together in the oil. The steak gets only salt and pepper, then a quick baste with butter, thyme, and garlic.
Most lemon bars lean on lemon for their sourness, but here hallabong juice far outweighs the lemon, giving the curd a rounder, sweeter citrus flavor. Underneath sits a crumbly shortbread rubbed together from butter, flour, and powdered sugar, a crisp contrast to the smooth set curd.
Small beef meatballs simmer in a creamy milk gravy, usually alongside mashed potatoes to catch every bit of sauce. Tenderness comes from a light hand: overworking the mixture tightens it into dense, rubbery balls. The pan is never wiped before the flour goes in, because the gravy owes its depth to the browned drippings the meatballs leave behind. Once the flour loses its raw smell, the milk is stirred in a little at a time so the gravy stays smooth. A splash of Worcestershire sauce gives the cream a savory edge.
The classic hump needs two things together: a 30-minute rest in the fridge and an oven that starts hot and is then turned down. Hallabong marmalade stirred into the batter leaves small bits of peel throughout, so a faintly bitter citrus note keeps cutting through the butter. A little honey and milk keep the crumb moist.