We’re all getting tired of winter, so when the sun came out for a few short hours, everyone at my house headed outdoors to soak it up. I followed them with a hot bowl of bagna cauda, a tray of bite-sized vegetables and a loaf of crusty French bread for dipping.

Bagna cauda is a simple Italian mixture of olive oil and butter infused with garlic and anchovies. The proportions are basically up to the cook. What’s your pleasure? Some prefer more oil while others go heavy on the melted butter. A hint of garlic or enough to keep the vampires away—after all we’re all in this together, so garlic breath is not an issue. Then there are the anchovies, those controversial little critters you either love or hate. Do you want a subtle sophisticated flavor or a fish-infused jolt? Personally, I prefer a mixture of 2/3 cup of good olive oil with ¼ cup of butter, lots of garlic and no more than four anchovy fillets. Some cooks delight in eight to 10 fillets, in which case I must pass on the sauce and fill up on the veggies, bread, and a crisp glass of white wine to drown my disappointment.

As we all sat around the old garden table laughing and sharing the feast, the winds picked up and things got cold really fast. I was reminded of the early vineyard workers of Piedmont, Italy, who depended on this pungent dish to warm them up in the fields on cold winter days. Like the peasants that originated it, the vineyard workers consumed their bagna cauda in large rustic pots set over an open flame. Today, I served it in a terra cotta pot set over a candle to keep it warm. No matter your heat source, never boil the sauce or you risk spoiling it quickly.

Italians serve fresh local vegetables like fennel, cardoons and peppers for dipping, while I chose cauliflower florets, peppers, cucumbers, broccoli and artichokes for my platter. In California we are fortunate to have an abundance of winter produce choices that can be served raw, blanched or roasted.

Many home cooks go into the kitchen and madly chop a bunch of vegetables for immediate consumption, and while this works well for cucumbers and peppers, there is a much better way for sturdier items like broccoli, cauliflower and carrots. Take the time to blanch these vegetables in salted boiling water for several minutes, then plunge them into ice water to stop the cooking process. You’ll be amazed at the difference between hard, gray-green raw broccoli florets and the tender, emerald green morsels you get after blanching. A veggie worthy of all that delicious sauce!

I’m also a great fan of roasting vegetables like artichokes. Simply halve them and cut away the thorny tips of their leaves with scissors. Rub with olive oil, then place a clove of peeled garlic, a lemon slice and sprig or two of fresh thyme on each half and place face down on a baking sheet. Roast them in a 375-degree oven for approximately 50 minutes, or until the leaves pull away easily. Try this once and you’ll never boil an artichoke again.

Bagna cauda is the essence of simple food shared with friends and family; both warming and fortifying us for the next big storm.

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White chili is filled with wonderful flavors and textures: beans, shredded chicken, chiles, onions, garlic, cumin…. So why does it so often end up as a boring dish that’s just hot and nothing else?

I took a look at my old family recipe that I had not made in years and immediately saw why it’s always been a poor second cousin to the fiery red chili I love. With a few simple cooking techniques learned from Mexican and Indian cuisines, I’ve finally made white wonderful.

The obvious: Give up the seemingly quick and easy, expensive canned and bottled ingredients for fresh. If your chili is flavorless, you’re wasting your time.

Beans. Many standard recipes call for several jars or cans of fully cooked white cannellini beans that cost two to three dollars each. Home cooked great northern beans are economical and your best choice for texture and flavor. When combined with the other ingredients, great northerns absorb all the flavors, giving you a tasty, tender bean rather than the overcooked, mushy results you get with canned.

Chicken. White chili recipes often require breast meat that can be bland when poached in water. Long, ago, I learned that dark, flavorful thighs are preferred in Indian curries because they absorb the onion, garlic and spices while imparting their chicken goodness to the gravy. I decided to use half thighs and half breasts for flavor and the white color.

Stock. I prefer homemade chicken stock for absolutely best flavor, but realize that many home cooks reach for canned convenience. Make it low sodium and you’ll be fine.

Onions, garlic and spices. Sauté everything in the chicken fat, rather than ordinary oil, for richer flavor. When it comes to dry spices, I depend on the Indian method of roasting the cumin and coriander in a cleared area of the pan for 30 seconds before mixing them into the mixture.

Chiles. No canned chiles for this dish unless you absolutely can’t find fresh, mild pasillas and anaheims, as well as the hotter and more common jalapenos. My secret is fire-roasting the chilies for a deep smoky flavor. While it’s great fun to do this in the ashes of a wood-burning fireplace (try it if you have one!), the simplest approach is to use a gas range. Just follow these easy steps:

1.    Place the chiles over a high flame, turning them as they blacken.

2.    Remove the blackened chiles from the flame and immediately cover them with a clean towel.

3.    Let them sweat for 10 minutes.

4.    Remove the towel and peel off the charred skin with a paring knife or your fingers. Remove excess pieces of skin with a paper towel.

5.    Make a slit in each chile and carefully remove the seeds.

6.    Rinse the chiles in cool water to remove any remaining skin bits or seeds.

One last tip: Chiles have different heat levels throughout the year. The same variety that blew out your eyeballs one week may be meek another. Check with your produce person and always taste and adjust as you cook.

Now, this is a white chile you can be proud of. Ladle it in to bowls and top with chopped cilantro and lime wedges for spritzing. Add some hot, golden cornbread and life is good.

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As a child, I thrilled to red and pink paper hearts, inscribed with simple words of love. Today, I give the three-dimensional, edible kind: heart-shaped red velvet cupcakes heaped with extra love in the form of luscious, finger-licking cream cheese frosting. Irresistible!

This moist, rich classic cake will tickle your taste buds with a hint of chocolate and thrill with its festive color. Red velvet cake has been around for almost 90 years, beginning as a signature dessert at New York’s famous Waldorf Astoria hotel. In a land of angel and devil’s food, vanilla and chocolate, this cake stood out like a drop-dead gorgeous lady wearing a hot red dress in a room filled with basic black.

I first made red velvet with the standard recipe that you find everywhere on the web. Its flavor and moisture were OK but not sensational. The screaming color was actually a little scary, and not at all sophisticated. I hit the kitchen and started playing with the ingredients: cake flour, cocoa, salt, sugar, butter, vanilla, buttermilk, baking soda and vinegar. With a few adjustments—mainly swapping out the butter for double the amount of vegetable oil and a bit more sugar—things improved dramatically. An additional tablespoon of cocoa toned down the red color and added more depth of flavor.

Next, bubbles—lots of air bubbles caused by the intensity of multiple acidic ingredients. Since I’d balanced the ingredients as much as possible, brute force seemed the best approach. So, I banged the cake tins on the counter several times to release the bubbles, then ran a knife gently through the batter. Perfection!

As my hearts baked, I made a huge bowl of cream cheese frosting. Once the cakes were thoroughly cool, I piled them high with the frosting and tried selling the beaters to everyone circling me in the kitchen. They were not amused and came at me with their outstretched spoons. Licking my fingers, I had to admit pure love for the baker that invented this stuff. How can anything taste so good?

Love is sweet. Happy Valentine’s Day!

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Crab curry is at once exotic, delicious, spectacularly beautiful and simple to prepare. Seafood curries are a personal favorite, so I asked my friend Leela Manilal to share her crab recipe. She was happy to do so; especially since she’s a longtime fan of our local San Francisco Dungeness crabs, and still thrills at a visit to Fishermen’s Wharf for the just-off-the-boat delicacy. We headed to Alioto’s outdoor stand where the fishmonger cleaned and cracked several beauties that we would eat out of the shell.

As he worked, Leela confided that “Dungeness crabs are so much nicer and sweeter than those horrible little green creatures that we get in Delhi”. She told how they are shipped hundreds of miles inland from the coastal regions of Mumbai and southern India and sold live from buckets in local markets. Leela giggled and related the chaos that ensues when the little critters escape, sending shoppers scurrying as clerks attempt to recapture their wares. Being no stranger to Indian markets, I had to admit how spoiled we are in San Francisco with this beautiful wharf and the promise of a walk by the bay once we collect our tidily wrapped crabs.

Crab curry is a fairly quick, easy assembly when you prep the garlic, ginger, onions, spices, tomato, coconut milk and tamarind before beginning. With everything ready at hand, you can focus all of your attention on the fine art of creating the gravy, adding liquid bit-by-bit and tasting as you go.

Most all of the ingredients for this dish are available at good local markets. You can find ghee (a form of clarified butter) and tamarind paste (an acid much like citrus, made from the pods of the tamarind tree) at Indian grocery stores or online. Western cooks often use vegetable oil for their Indian dishes, and this is perfectly acceptable. But ghee imparts a taste and aroma not otherwise possible. Its addition is well worth a trip to the store.

Tamarind paste may give you the culinary heebie-jeebies the first time you encounter it. Twenty-five years ago, Leela handed me a jar of black, gooey mystery stuff that made me question if it was safe to eat. Be brave! Take off the lid and give it a sniff. Tamarind paste smells a little like raisins and is used extensively in Indian curries and chutneys.

Once you’re in the kitchen and things are sizzling, keep in mind what Leela taught me years ago: Adding liquids a little at a time makes all the difference in Indian cooking. Stir and let the liquid absorb the flavors and reduce before adding more. If you pour all the coconut milk or water in at once, the gravy becomes diluted and runny. Patience equals perfection.

When Leela and I made this crab curry, I was surprised that the gravy was not the usual red or golden color but a deep chocolate brown. Yummy and smooth, but not visually pretty. When plating the finished dish, fill a serving platter with hot Basmati rice then arrange the orange-tinged crab pieces on top. Spoon the gravy into the crevices and then drizzle over the top. Don’t pour it freely or everything will swim in brown. Decorate the crab curry with chopped green cilantro and lots of lime pieces for spritzing—and color contrast.

Dig in! At my table we don’t stand on formalities with crab curry. Within seconds the room fills with the sounds of breaking shells, lip smacking and moans of pleasure as we lick the scrumptious gravy off our fingers. Truth is we make absolute pigs of ourselves. During all of this, Leela looked up with crab leg in hand and said, “will you teach me how to make chocolate ganache? I want to master truffles.” I agreed and grabbed another leg. Stay tuned.

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Carbonara is an Italian classic that first appeared in the 1940s—exactly where is debated by food historians. My favorite theory has the Allied soldiers of World War II sharing their humble rations of powdered eggs and bacon with the local, hungry population of war-torn Italy. The Italians supplied dried pasta, and together they all prepared a dish that both nourished and gave them a sense of community. The soldiers became so fond of pasta carbonara that when they returned home to their respective countries, they introduced the dish to their families and local restaurants. These days you’ll find all kinds of spaghetti carbonara on restaurant menus; dressed up with cream and onions or speckled with peas. But traditional cooks—and I’m one of them—swear by five simple ingredients: pasta, cured meat, cheese, eggs and black pepper.

Alas, simplicity is often complicated with unnecessary snobbery as some cooks insist that only specific cured meats and cheeses merit the name carbonara. In Italy, particularly Rome, diners prefer their locally available guanciale and push it as the only true cured meat for carbonara. This very fatty, mild-tasting meat is made from unsmoked pig’s cheeks or jowls and must be cut in small, matchstick pieces to capture the striations of meat. While reasonably priced at six dollars a pound at my local Italian market, guanciale is often hard to find and requires an adventurous spirit.

My favorite is pancetta, an unsmoked, flavorful Italian bacon that adds tasty morsels of meat to the carbonara rather than crunchy pieces of fat. It runs around 16 dollars a pound—or eight bucks for this recipe—and is well worth the extra expense.

If you want to send food snobs wickedly over the edge, use readily available smoked slab bacon (that reminds one of bacon and eggs for breakfast). It costs around seven dollars a pound, or $3.50 for this dish. I don’t know about you, but if I get a hankering for carbonara and can’t have my favorite pancetta, I’ll fry up bacon in a heartbeat.

The cheese is fairly easy. Italians often prefer percorino romano; a salty sheep’s milk. Others—myself included—like parmesan-reggiano, the richly flavored, nutty tasting cow’s milk cheese from Parma, Italy. Try them both and then decide your favorite; you may even want to mix them up. Spaghetti is most common pasta used, but fettuccini, penne and rigatoni are also great choices.

Once you select your ingredients, there are a few tips you need for preparing out-of-this world pasta carbonara.

1. Start with perfectly cooked pasta. Cook it in ample water with a handful of salt. Master this cooking technique and your pasta will be restaurant quality.

2. Grate your cheese from larger pieces; do not waste your money on flavorless supermarket cheese in a shaker container.

3. Add the raw eggs to your hot pasta off the heat of the stove, or you risk scrambled eggs. Tasty but ugly.

4. Create a creamier sauce by adding a few tablespoons of the hot pasta cooking water. Don’t add too much water or your pasta will be swimming.

5. Fry the small pieces of meat slowly on a medium to medium-low flame to render them of their fat. You want the meat crispy, not charred—especially with guanciale.

6. Add several tablespoons of the rendered fat to the pasta—not all of it, as some meats release far too much fat to work well.

7. Keep to the five traditional ingredients: pasta, cured meat, cheese, eggs and black pepper. Less is more.

Perfetto!

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This popular southern meal was first introduced to me by my late father-in-law, Felix Adams. He knew that I would love it and wanted someone to joyfully carry on his Mississippian family tradition. As I devoured my first plate, Felix told me how this good luck meal was originally prepared by West African slaves on the rice plantations of South Carolina’s Gullea area for their families. They combined locally grown legumes known as cowpeas (basically black-eyed peas) with rice, then flavored everything with pork and simple seasonings. Collard greens came to symbolize economic prosperity, and corn bread is just plain good.

While slave cooks had long appreciated the value of black-eyed peas, it took a recipe in Sarah Rutledge’s 1847 cookbook, The Carolina Housewife to get the attention of the upper-class southern ladies. Today the dish is sometimes served with Champagne at the stroke of midnight. Some tuck a coin into the mixture before serving, believing that the lucky recipient will have an especially fortunate new year. Personally, I think that if you’re willing to risk choking to death or breaking a tooth during a ruckus celebration, you’re going to need all the luck you can get.

Today, I keep my hoppin’ john fairly traditional but make it more festive by cutting in red, orange, yellow and green bell peppers to resemble New Year’s confetti. Plate it with the brilliant green collards and deep golden corn bread, and you have a meal that is as beautiful as it is delicious.

Here’s to a prosperous, healthy, happy new year with lots of good eating in 2010.

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Love those fat little tummies. Mmmm. Nibble those tiny feet and bite off their spicy gingerbread heads. Dark, moist ginger babies are irresistible and the perfect holiday baking project for kids of all ages.

Santa’s impending arrival has the kids in my family bouncing off the wall so I keep them busy in the kitchen making memories. Sammy, five, loves to cook and got right into mixing and stirring the batter. As I measured the spices and flavorings, he adventurously sniffed each and discovered to his chagrin that individually, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves and cardamom are bitter and don’t always smell good. Black pepper makes him sneeze. Worst of all molasses—the one ingredient that makes gingerbread divine—was pronounced “sninky… yucky… disgusting!” Imagine his delight when he realized that mixed up into batter, everything tastes “amazing!” and fills the kitchen with the sweet smells of Christmas that he knows and loves.

Pouring the spicy batter into the molds can be tricky; little kids are hilarious with their tongues hanging out of the sides of their mouths in deep concentration. Sammy carefully filled several dozen molds and proudly passed them to me—”ta-dah.”

Cousin Jackson, also five, joined us at the kitchen table to decorate the cooled ginger babies. I’d set out small bowls of brightly colored buttercream frostings, tubes of red, green, orange, pink and white icing for drawing, and lots of sprinkles, edible fairy dust and my favorite cinnamon red-hot candies.

The little chefs proudly showed off their masterpieces, then settled by the fire with hot chocolate and treats, giggling as they bit off spicy gingerbread toes and heads. Could live be any sweeter?

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Tiny Christmas elves turned my kitchen into Santa’s workshop earlier this week when they decorated several hundred holiday sugar cookies and gingerbread people.

Every year they arrive; perhaps it’s the rocking Christmas music that attracts them, or the long kitchen table laden with pots of brightly colored buttercream frosting, sprinkles, edible glitter, red hots and whimsical decorations. Then again, it could be the delicious trays of cookies waiting for their magic.

As head elf, I crank up the holiday spirit with Santa hats, aprons and festive party favors. Nothing breaks the ice like blinking necklaces of colored lights and silly, flashing Rudolf noses to remind the children of their friend at the North Pole.

Sammy and Jackson got into the party spirit dressed as elves. They selected their cookies, swiped their mini spatulas in the black frosting and immediately started eating it. In a flash, both boys were giggling and displaying their black tongues for all to see as the rest of the guests—young and old—got in on the silly fun.

The joy of cookie decorating is infectious; I’m always delighted when the adults replace the elves at the work table as they run off to play. Our oldest guest (85 years young!) produced three wildly colored cookies that we hung on the kitchen cookie tree.

Beyond Wonderful intern Theo Andersen donned a full Santa suit—with cool black shades—and listened to each child’s Christmas list. Ho-ho-ho! Did you know that this Santa is always hungry and joyfully accepts cookies from all?

To keep the elf energy up and prevent a sugar overdose, I set out lots of savory snacks on a low table for easy access. Deli meats like salami and ham are always popular. Add some cheese, bread and crackers with fresh fruit and veggies, a few drinks and you’re set. This time I included black olives for the littler kids.

After a few hours, the elves of all ages wound down and were ready to transport their cookies home. I find that inexpensive, different-sized cardboard gift boxes with tissue paper do the job well. Close each with a festive sticker to make it feel special.

This year I was reminded, as always, that kids are magic—especially when surrounded by so much sugar and creativity. Take your cue from them, and your own cookie party is sure to be sweet success.

Read “Cookies… and Just a Touch of Chaos” for lots of tips on how to organize your own holiday cookie decorating party.

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Print our illustrated, step-by-step instruction on How To Roll Dough.

Oh, but it’s smelling really good in my kitchen today. Come on in and meet my great friend, Leela Manilal who’s here from New Delhi, India for the next few months. Leela is our Beyond Wonderful International Home Chef, India and we’re preparing lots of sumptuous curries and beautifully spiced vegetable dishes for the website.

Leela and I have cooked together both in India and the Bay Area for over 25 years, uniting our families, friends and readers through the simple pleasures of our food. No matter where we cook, we require lots of fresh, seasonal produce, so we always head to local markets for all our ingredients. This trip, I wanted Leela to meet our produce expert, Dan Avakian and experience his open-air market in Alameda. Leela and Dan were familiar with each other’s work on Beyond Wonderful and soon became fast friends, sharing their vast culinary knowledge.

While my two friends got acquainted, I grabbed a cart and started stocking up on the basics of our Indian kitchen; onions, garlic, ginger, chiles and cilantro. We also needed potatoes for aloo dum (potatoes in a spicy yogurt sauce), so Leela examined all of the different varieties to find one that closely resembled what she uses at home. She finally held up a small red roasting potato and said, “Barbara, we need two pounds of the tiniest, most uniform ones you can find.” I started bagging what I thought was small and she quickly stopped me. “Tiny, we want tiny. These are too big.” As I worked, I wondered who was going to peel these little suckers.

My attitude improved significantly when Leela told me that these potatoes can be substituted for paneer (Indian cheese) in a wonderful spiced spinach dish that she taught me to make last spring in New Delhi. Funny how fast you can find two extra pounds of “tiny potatoes” when inspired.

The autumn citrus displays at the front of the market caught Leela’s eye. Even though they weren’t on our working list, neither of us could resist the juicy red grapefruits, fragrant oranges and lemons. Leela was especially taken with the large, loose-skinned Mandarin oranges because they reminded her of the ones in India. Dan peeled one and gave it to her as she told how her family loves eating these oranges in her Delhi garden on sunny winter days.

I always learn a lot when I hang out with Dan at his market, and love the recipes he offers as we talk produce. Today, he suggested a citrus salad using one grapefruit, two oranges and two Meyer lemons—sliced or segmented. “The dressing is easy: mix some of the citrus juice with best-quality extra virgin olive oil, toss and sprinkle freshly ground black pepper over the top.” Simple. Delicious. Seasonally economical.

As I packed the car with our bounty, Dan handed me a bag of Mandarins for his new friend “to remind her of home.” I smiled, knowing that she would always think of Dan when eating Mandarins on sunny Indian winter day.

Pumpkin pies are traditional fare at my Thanksgiving table, so I always try to make an additional dessert that lends a twist of the unexpected—a sinfully delicious show-stopper that dazzles the crowd.

One of my all-time favorites comes from Chef Catherine Christiansen, our Beyond Wonderful baking expert. She conjured up a rich, creamy cheesecake with homemade caramel sauce, freshly whipped marshmallow fluff and salty Spanish peanuts. Each bite is an adventure in taste and texture: sweet, salty, smooth and crunchy. Definitely a close your eyes, savor and moan kinda confection.

Having baked this several times I can tell you that it’s a great make-ahead dessert—in fact, that’s the key to its success. I make the caramel sauce and marshmallow fluff first and refrigerate them. The next day I bake the cheesecake and let it sit in the refrigerator overnight. Assembly is a breeze, and that’s a good thing when a hungry crowd is circling.

It occurs to me that making the sauce and fluff could be intimidating if you’ve never made them before. Do not fear as they are both super simple. First, the caramel sauce is basically warm cream and melted sugar. Master the sugar and you’re home free. Always melt your sugar in a heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium-high heat, lowering the flame as needed to prevent burning. Shake the pan as the sugar melts; do not stir it.

Usually one cooks the sugar until it is golden brown, but this recipe requires that you achieve a deep sable color. Be patient. Do not up the heat when you get bored, or you’ll burn the sugar and have a foul-smelling kitchen. Not to mention that you’ll have to start the process over again.

The marshmallow fluff is easy, easy, easy. In fact, your electric mixer does all the work. Just drop a couple of egg whites and some corn syrup into your mixer and beat them on high speed for five minutes until tripled in volume. Mix in a bit of vanilla and confectioner’s sugar and you have fluff. Originally I thought that this would be overly sweet but it is not. Go figure. The supermarket variety has always been too sweet for me. Perhaps that’s because it is made with flavor enhancers and stabilizers.

When it’s time to plate the cheesecake, know that the caramel sauce should be slightly warm so that it drizzles easily. Use a tablespoon or soup spoon to drizzle the sauce back and forth across the plate, then set a slice of cheesecake on top. The marshmallow fluff topping is up to you—to pig or not to pig. Be generous with the Spanish peanuts as they make all the difference in this magical confection.

I guarantee your holiday guests will gobble this up faster than you can say “food coma”. And if they don’t, it means more cheesecake for you. Now that’s something to be thankful for.

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