Starter

One of the richest, creamiest soups around, bisque is traditionally a puree of seafood, rice, and cream. This luscious version is New Orleans’s eating at its finest. The elegant flavors call for little more than an equally impressive white wine to serve alongside this dish. The aromatic vegetables, tomatoes, tarragon, and liqueur make this recipe particularly distinctive.

I remember a time when gazpacho became very trendy and was on every menu. I decided to come up with a different version—even with a different color. It was José Andrés of Jaleo in Washington, D.C., who made the best Spanish gazpacho I ever tasted, so I borrowed his technique of frying the bread in olive oil. The toasted flavor and richness of the fried bread helps mellow the acidity and round out the flavors of the other ingredients. The shellfish garnish is not necessary but makes the dish a little more elegant and sumptuous.

This silky concoction makes an elegant starter, or a light supper if paired with the Parisienne Bistro Crudité Plate (p. 102) or the Bayona House Salad with Balsamic Vinaigrette (p. 95) and a warm baguette. Oysters and artichokes are another favorite New Orleans combination. For your convenience I’ve called for canned artichoke hearts, but if you’re feeling expansive (and industrious), use fresh artichoke hearts. Your efforts will be rewarded.

The Crescent City Farmer’s Market has had a huge impact on the quality of cooking and eating in New Orleans, and on my own life as well. Over the years it has grown from one location where you could get only bell peppers and tomatoes, one day a week, to four bustling locations (open four days a week) where you can buy anything from Creole cream cheese to colorful varieties of eggplant and Swiss chard, lemongrass, Thai basil, soft-shell crabs, tamales, hibiscus flowers, sweet potato pies, and mayhaw jelly! Happily, post-Katrina, the farmers are back, and this vital part of the community is still up and running. My only complaint is that I can’t just run in and grab what I need in a hurry. When I go, I spend at least an hour perusing produce, catching up with farmers, and socializing with all the other shoppers and chefs I know. The market is a modern-day village green. Of course, this is also what I love about it. If you’re lucky enough to have a real farmer’s market in your area (they’re sprouting up everywhere), be sure to seek it out. It’s bound to have the makings for this soothing and delicious chicken and vegetable soup, among other satisfying meals. Feel free to substitute local seasonal vegetables for any of the ones listed here.

This recipe came about much like the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup commercial—“You got chocolate on my peanut butter,” etc. One day a long time ago, I had some peanut sauce left over from making pork satés, and I was in the process of putting together a cream of celery soup. I started thinking about how people have been known to eat celery sticks with peanut butter, so I swirled the rich sauce into the delicate soup. With a little extra garlic, chile paste, and soy sauce, the result was pretty darn tasty—and I’ve been making it ever since.

I belong to the growing cult who believe that celery is an underappreciated vegetable. Used raw, it has a juicy, nutty crispness that stands on its own with just a couple of other ingredients. When cooked, the flavor becomes deeper and richer, as it does in this soup. Don’t be fooled by the deceptively simple sound of this soup. This celadon puree is elegant and comforting, and can serve as the basis for more complex variations, such as adding leeks, asparagus, broccoli, or poached shredded chicken. Judicious seasoning is important, as salt will really round out the flavors. Croutons made from multigrain bread are the perfect garnish.

The secret to this soup, a luscious puree of caramelized garlic and onions thickened with French bread, is patience. I originally developed it at Savoir Faire. At the time I had a boyfriend who frequently traveled to Mexico. He would rave about sopa de ajo—a broth flavored with garlic and egg—and it sounded so earthy and scrumptious that I decided to try to make it. My approach to recipe development typically involves looking up several versions of a dish, then taking what I like from each of those recipes. That’s exactly how this soup was created. I trained with French chefs, so a puree leapt to mind. Then I read that in Latin countries soups are often thickened with bread. One version relied on fish stock, but I thought chicken stock would be more universally appealing. So I stirred all my ideas together, my mentor Daniel gave it his enthusiastic blessing, and my first true culinary creation was born. When we initially started making this soup, my dishwashers had to peel 10 pounds of garlic at a time. Thankfully, these days at Bayona, we buy peeled garlic by the gallon. In order to develop the proper deep, rich flavor, it’s essential to take your time cooking the garlic. You need to stir the mixture a lot over low heat and wait until the onions and garlic get very dark and caramelized. I love garnishing this soup with tiny croutons that provide a crunchy contrast to the silky body.

In 1995, I was lucky enough to be invited as a guest chef at the Oriental Hotel in Bangkok. I brought my sous chef and pastry chef with me, and for two weeks we toured the temples and markets of the city, seeing (and eating) many unusual and beautiful things. I vividly remember the profusion of flowers and the tasty and sometimes strange street food (such as the edible insect cart, which we avoided), and the gradual change from barely tolerating hot chiles to actually craving them on a daily basis. When I returned, my sous chef, Ronald Carr, helped me develop this dish to showcase the new flavors that I’d fallen for. This substantial salad could be served for lunch, dinner, or as a first course before something light, such as grilled fish. To lighten up the salad, you can add an extra handful of shredded cabbage or even more of the crispy noodles (keep in mind that the salad will be a bit drier if you do this). Small or medium shrimp work just fine in this recipe, and they’re less expensive than larger varieties.

This irresistible salad became a signature at Savoir Faire. I coat the oysters with bread crumbs flavored with sage, rosemary, and parsley—and strongly encourage you to use all three. The smell alone will have your mouth watering. Fried in this coating, the oysters take on a rich flavor that suggests stuffing. Placed atop a fresh spinach salad, the dish becomes a playful twist on Oysters Rockefeller (raw oysters on the half shell, topped with a spinach-bread crumb mixture and baked). The Rosemary-Dijon Dressing (which should be made first so the salad will come together easily at the end) is one you’ll make again and again—it’s delicious on just about any mix of greens.

This is another dish that Ashley taught me. It’s too good not to share. Cornmeal-coated oysters are crisp-fried and placed atop a salad of black-eyed peas, scallions, and red peppers. A chiffonade of spinach and celery root adds additional flavor and crunch (but it’s the killer sweet, hot Jalapeño Dressing that steals the show). Feel free to add a few more handfuls of greens to make this a more substantial salad. This is a great lunch salad with a fat wedge of corn bread and a cold beer.

All along the Gulf Coast, crab is plentiful and almost cheap during the summer. It has a luxurious flavor, but it’s still light, and in this ceviche-like salad the lime and basil enhance the warm-weather flavors. The salty capers are a good foil for the sweetness of the crab and carrots. Serve this refreshing combination on lettuce leaves, as described below, or in a parfait or martini glass, garnished with a wedge of lime and some tortilla chips.

These days the phrase “pasta salad” registers as a bit of a throwback. But as long as I’ve been making this salad, people have raved about it and asked for the recipe. Orzo is a small rice-shaped pasta. It’s easy to overcook, so watch it closely and taste it toward the end of the cooking time. I actually prefer orzo imported from Greece—it’s a bit more toothsome than Italian varieties. Serve this salad as a meal on its own, or alongside grilled fish, lamb chops, or roast chicken.

I used to think that lentils were bland in a brown rice (good-for-you-but-boring) sort of way. But the luscious combination of ingredients in this salad changed all that. Loretta Keller, a former sous chef who is now an acclaimed chef in San Francisco, gave me this recipe. The lentils and dressing are great on their own, but they’re even better paired with goat cheese, with its creamy texture and tangy flavor, and ripe garden tomatoes. This salad makes a quick and easy lunch, especially with a loaf of crusty sourdough bread or some crostini (thin slices of toasted bread rubbed with garlic, sprinkled with salt, and drizzled with olive oil).

I have always loved leeks, but now they have a particularly romantic context in my life. The first time I met my (then future) husband, Chip, he cooked chicken with leeks, a dish that knocked me out. (I guess I should mention that he worked as a professional chef in New Orleans for ten years.) He blanched the leeks, so they were bright green and pliable, then wrapped them around a stuffed chicken breast. It was the most beautiful, seductive presentation. Since then, every time I cook with leeks I think of that dish—and him. Leeks have an interesting, subtle flavor that suggests asparagus or salsify (a root vegetable). A lot of Americans don’t know how to use them, and they tend to be pricey. But this simple bistro presentation shows that they are worth the splurge. This is the most basic French preparation for leeks, and one of the most delicious. It’s also the recipe that sold me on them forever.

This refreshing summer salad—a play of sweet and salty flavors—was inspired by some friends of mine reminiscing about the food they ate on a trip to Israel, where the pairing of fresh melon and feta cheese is fairly common. I was never one to sprinkle salt on my watermelon, but somehow with the addition of cucumber and citrus dressing, the contrast is incredibly refreshing.

If you’re making this salad ahead of time, you’ll want to lightly salt the cucumbers, let them sit in a colander to drain for 10 minutes, drain, then pat dry with a paper towel. If you’re going to serve this salad right away, you can skip that step.

Just in case you’ve been wondering what to do with that walnut oil that someone gave you for Christmas …

When I was a kid, I used to think that beets tasted just like the dirt they were grown in. Happily, I am older, wiser, less fussy, and can appreciate the sweet earthiness of these beautiful vegetables—and I do find that dressings made with a little fruit vinegar bring out the sweet and temper the earthiness. A bright, tangy goat cheese is such a perfect match that it’s become ubiquitous on bistro menus.