Hola! Welcome to Yolanda Resendiz’s home kitchen where we cook, style and photograph her classic Mexican recipes for Beyond Wonderful. Yolanda is a talented, self-taught home chef and her kitchen is filled with laughter, lively conversations and shared work. It is the very essence of the joyful sense of community that permeates kitchens across her native land.

Our photographers and I are veterans of Yolanda’s marathon, multi-dish cooking sessions and have become her dedicated prep assistants; peeling, chopping and preparing fresh produce and herbs, roasting and peeling chiles and marinating and roasting meats. At the same time we’ve taught Yolanda—an instinctive cook who does not use measuring cups or spoons—to precisely measure all her ingredients so we can write accurate recipes for your kitchen. This is a challenge when she’s moving quickly, juggling 10–12 recipes in various states of completion!

Since most of Yolanda’s more involved recipes include illustrated, step-by-step how-to pages, I assign one photographer to record each step of a recipe. Having the images also helps me back at the office when I’ve missed something in all the activity.

I’m currently working on recipe and how-to pages from our latest session that began early Saturday morning. We arrived and got settled at Yolanda’s long kitchen table piled high with all the ingredients needed for the day. As I went over the schedule with the group, Yolanda served a Mexican breakfast of scrambled eggs with cactus, beans, warm tortillas, and unlimited mugs of steaming hot coffee.

Fortified, we got our prepping assignments as Yolanda checked her bubbling pots on the stove. I find that there is always one dish that stands out from the rest—the one that I make in my own kitchen later. Today’s was barbacoa des res, or steamed beef shanks wrapped in roasted maguey (century cactus leaves). This popular Mexican dish is a party favorite and gets its rich flavor from the cactus—so don’t even think of trying to skip that element.

Maguey is not something that you pick up at the local supermarket or Mexican market. Instead, you have to find a plant nearby or substitute banana leaves that are readily available, and also yield fairly good results. Yolanda and I walked to a neighbor’s house to cut the leaves from a huge, ancient plant. She told me that all the neighbors share their garden bounties with each other. Today we took the cactus; tomorrow the neighbor would receive a bag of freshly picked apples.

Yolanda surveyed the plant, picked four, four-foot long leaves and cut them at the base with a sharp chef’s knife. I didn’t have a clue what to do with these gray-green giants, but when Yolanda handed them to me I quickly became aware that they had nasty looking prickles around the outer edges.

We hauled them back to Yolanda’s garden where her husband, Tomas, had set up two large camp stoves. This is not an exotic way to process these leaves, but simply a necessity because all of the burners on the inside stove were in use. Yolanda removed the prickles from the first leaf and started roasting it on the open flame. Soon the leaf softened and turned dark green. “Barbara, you want the leaves to bend so that we can wrap the meat in the steamer.” I was impressed. “All right, it’s your turn, you finish trimming and roasting the leaves and I’ll get the steamer ready.” Things moved quickly and brightened significantly when Tomas brought me an ice cold beer.

Yolanda arranged the roasted leaves in the steamer basket, added the beef shanks and covered them with the protruding ends of the cactus. Tomas helped Yolanda seal the steamer so that it could slow cook for five hours. I asked if one could use other cuts of meat and learned that lamb and pork are good choices, or cow’s head if you’re truly adventurous. “You get the best flavor from a cow’s head,” Yolanda assured me. “Just have the butcher at a Mexican or Latin market cut it into pieces and cook everything the same way.” She told me that in Mexico, they dig a big hole in the ground, add a heat source, lay in the roasted maguey and then slow cook the meat for hours. I thought that sounded very cool, and was told it got even better when you put a pan under the meat to catch the juices. “Barbara, it’s the best juice—so rich. It makes a great consommé.”

As the steamer pot did its work, we moved on to a slew of other delectables; roasted goat meat, caldillo soup, apple and pineapple salad, Mexican Kahlúa flan and pitchers of prickly pear juice known as agua de tuna (no relation to the fish).

Five hours later, we opened the steamer pot, peeled back the cactus leaves and inhaled the most wonderful scent. The meat was fork tender and amazingly good. I decided right there to make this at home—with the whole cow’s head. Life should always be an adventure, and there is a large maguey growing wild at the bottom of my hill.

Get a printable copy of barbacoa des res for easy reference.

Read more about Beyond Wonderful’s International Home Chef, Yolanda Resendiz and her classic Mexican recipes.

They are addictive! Delicious! Nutritious! And they don’t contain any evil preservatives, flavor enhancers or end up on your hips. Roasted pumpkin seeds are crisp bursts of flavor, and one of my favorite autumn snacks. And if our Beyond Wonderful photographer does not get here soon, you won’t know what they look like because I can’t stop eating them. It’s hopeless. Crunch.

Until recently, I could take or leave pumpkin seeds. Some of my batches were too salty while others were not evenly roasted (meanings lots of chewy, spitable stuff). That changed on my recent trip to Dan Avakian’s produce market where I bought lots of roasting pumpkins. I told Dan about my mediocre seeds and asked what I should do. “Didn’t I tell you how to salt and store them in the refrigerator for three days before roasting?” Well, no, he hadn’t, so I listened carefully. He detailed the salting process, then held up his huge hand, pointed his finger at me and revealed the ultimate secret. “Barbara, once you’ve salted them, all you have to do is roast your seeds on a pizza pan with holes in it in a 325-degree oven for approximately 20 minutes. That’s all.”

The skies did not open nor did I hear any mystical music or voices above me, so I told Dan that I was skeptical about this quick method—several of my friends slow-roast their seeds in a 200-degree oven for hours. Arching an eyebrow with great pause, Dan said, “That’s way too long for me. I’m too impatient. This works.” Armed with my new knowledge, I headed home and got to work.

There is no set recipe for roasted pumpkin seeds since your amounts will differ each time you make them. But follow these simple instructions and you’ll master the process quickly.

You’ll also be happy to know that the photographer just arrived and she is artfully styling the one cup of remaining seeds. Wait! She’s eating them. Stop!

How To Roast Pumpkin Seeds

1. Place the seeds in a colander and run cool water over them. Swish everything around with your hands and remove all of the pumpkin strings and goop.

2. Place the wet seeds in a zip-top bag and sprinkle them with salt. Seal the bag and squish to distribute the salt. Store in the refrigerator for 3 days.

3. Remove the seeds from the bag and place them on a pizza pan with holes, or a baking sheet.

4. Pat the seeds dry with a paper towel or clean kitchen towel.

5. Toss them lightly with melted butter or olive oil.

6. Sprinkle the seeds with your favorite herbs and spices. Do not add salt at this point or the seeds could become inedible. Personally, I prefer freshly grated Parmesan cheese and ground black pepper on my seeds. But you could try garlic powder, chili powder, curry powder or specialty and ethnic blends.

7. Toss the seeds to coat evenly.

8. Place the seasoned seeds in a preheated 325-degree oven for 20 minutes, or until golden brown. Be sure check the seeds halfway through the process to prevent burning.

9. Remove the pumpkin seeds from the oven and let them cool for five minutes. Taste and adjust the seasonings.

10. Store in an airtight container. (That is if you don’t eat them all immediately.)

Print out our illustrated step-by-step How To Roast Pumpkin Seeds for easy reference.

Grab your hammers and cleavers, we’re roasting pumpkins for holiday pies, cakes and breads—and the most scrumptious pumpkin pancakes around. We just completed testing the pancakes and everyone here gave them rave reviews. I plan on showcasing the pumpkin pancakes at our special family holiday breakfasts and at the cabin on snowy mornings. They are that good.

So are you up for roasting pumpkins? “No, no, no, no”, you say. “That’s not for me.” As a novice cook, I felt the same way. Pumpkins came in a can from the supermarket for the express purpose of making pies once a year. Who knew that fresh pumpkins were easy to use—and suitable for so many dishes?

Then I met Dan Avakian, our Beyond Wonderful produce expert. Dan encouraged me to start roasting my own pumpkins and taught me how. It was painless and today, it’s so easy that I can roast and freeze a year’s supply in one afternoon.

Today, my kitchen counter is filled with edible pumpkins that I bought at Dan’s open-air produce market last Saturday. I stocked up on my favorite, orange Sugar Pie variety. Dan showed me other possibilities like the Green Fairytale, Cinderella, Australian Queensland Blue (aka Jarradale) and Lumina whites. With so many choices, I had lots of questions and felt lucky that someone as knowledgeable as Dan was there to answer them. It reminded me that you should always get to know your local produce people and fearlessly ask them anything on your mind. Not only will they guide you to your best options and values, but they’ll also suggest new ideas that will enhance your menus.

The one thing about roasting pumpkins that most people don’t know is that you cannot eat the decorative varieties grown for Halloween jack o’ lanterns. If you have some uncut ones left over, use them as autumn decorations.

Let’s get to work. The pumpkin roasting process takes a few hours of prepping, baking and pureeing—so if I’m doing a large batch, I set up an assembly line to move things along efficiently. Of course if you’re just doing one pumpkin it’s all even easier. Either way, it’s great fun to knock off the pumpkin stem with a hammer, split it with one good whack of a cleaver and scoop out slimy pumpkin goop and seeds with your hands. Your reward is a deeply flavorful and marvelously textured product that beats anything in a supermarket can.

1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

2. Remove the pumpkin stem by giving it a good whack with a hammer.

3. Cut the pumpkin in half—top to bottom—using a sharp cleaver or chefs knife.

NOTE:

Never use a dull or thin knife or you may cut yourself or break the knife.

4. Pull the sides of the pumpkin apart.

5. Scoop out the stringy pumpkin goop and seeds with a large spoon or your clean hands. Save the seeds for roasting.

6. Place the pumpkin halves—cavity side down—on a baking sheet.

7. Bake in the preheated oven for 45 minutes.

8. Remove the pumpkins from the oven and turn them over—cavity side up. Reduce the heat to 350 degrees and bake an additional 15–30 minutes, or until a fork goes through the flesh easily.

9. Remove the pumpkin halves from the oven and let them cool for one hour. Peel the outer skin away with your fingers. (The peel comes off easily once cooked.)

10. Puree the pumpkin using a food mill, food processor, blender or immersion blender. Add a few tablespoons of water to the pumpkin get the process going.

11. Store the pumpkin puree in the refrigerator for several days or freeze it in airtight zip-top bags. Be sure to lay the freezer bags on a cookie sheet when freezing so that they will remain flat and easy to handle. Otherwise you’ll end up struggling to pry bags off of your freezer shelf.

Print out our illustrated step-by-step How To Roast Pumpkins and recipe for Pumpkin Pancakes for easy reference.

In the early 1970’s, Marcella Hazan was busy working on The Classic Italian Cook Book—her first of six books that would change the way Americans view and cook Italian cuisine. Across the country in my tiny San Francisco kitchen, I was perfecting an awesome version of spaghetti and meatballs. Unlike my friends who poured canned tomato sauce on overcooked pasta, or worse yet, opened a can of Spaghetti-O’s, I sautéed onions and garlic with ground beef, added dried herbs, a little wine and canned tomato sauce. Who knew my proud creation bore little resemblance to the classic sauces and pasta of Hazan’s world? Life was about to change.

Decades later I, along with millions of American and international home chefs, have learned the cooking techniques and classic recipes of Italy through Hazan’s books. Others more fortunate have attended her popular cooking schools in New York, Bologna and Venice.

Earlier this week, Hazan came to town for the Cooks with Books dinner celebrating her life and latest book, Amarcord: Marcella Remembers. Fans packed the Left Bank restaurant to meet and share a meal with the woman they know as the godmother of Italian cuisine—a woman knighted in Italy and the recipient of two Lifetime Achievement awards from the James Beard Foundation and the IACP.

I arrived early, but started socializing and ended up at the back of the check-in line. As it turned out, the long wait was a great chance to learn a bit more about the star of the evening. One lady mentioned that Hazan had survived World War II and a series of terrifying air-raids with her family on an Italian farm. Another guest added that Hazan has two PhD’s in science. I knew that that Hazan had married Victor, love of her life, greatest supporter and writing collaborator, 53 years ago. Personally, I hoped that he’d be there as I’m a sucker for a good love story.

Some might say we owe a debt of gratitude to Victor for all that Marcella has given us. A native New Yorker and accomplished food and wine expert in his own right, Victor moved his bride to the city in 1955. Marcella did not speak English and found herself in a completely alien world with no friends or family. She couldn’t work in her field, and worst of all did not know how to cook. What to do? Victor gave her his favorite Italian cookbook, Ada Boni, with lots of encouragement. Before long she was teaching classic Italian cooking in her small apartment.

Somebody poked me excitedly and said, “Look!” There sat Marcella Hazan, now 84, dressed in red with her snow-white hair glowing under the lights. The CWB staff had seated her comfortably with Victor standing at her side. She greeted her fans in a low, husky, accented voice, smiled easily and signed their books.

Hazan’s assistant told me that she was a little tired, having been on this grueling book tour for three weeks. Others observed that Marcella and Victor had a great sense of humor and took good care of each other. Both are still passionate about food and constantly talk about where to eat out next as they travel.

The Cooks with Books dinners are always prepared from the author’s book, but Amarcord is a memoire with no recipes. Therefore the chef chose a menu from Hazan’s earlier work, Marcella Says…

Amuse Bouche
Avocado and Parmesan Crostini
Sweet Pickled Onions

First Course
Mushroom and Potato Soup with Sundried Tomatoes

Entrée
Lamb Chops Calabria Style with Tomatoes, Peppers and Olives

Dessert
Apple Cake with Raisins and Rum

As guests enjoyed their dessert, Hazan took the microphone for a question and answer session. When someone yelled out, “Do you still cook every day?” Hazan replied coolly, “Do you eat everyday? Of course I cook.” The crowd roared.

When a woman in the back asked about salt, I was reminded of a fascinating passage in Amarcord, where Hazan relates how precious salt was to her family during the war years when it was almost unobtainable. Luckily, her uncle worked for the local electric company and did not have to pay for his home supply. His clever wife plugged in a small electric heater and constantly boiled seawater from their nearby lagoon until only salt remained. Carefully she gathered and packaged her treasure and shared it with her sister’s family. They kept some, and used the remainder to barter for honey and fresh milk from their neighbors. In the context of such stories, one finds new appreciation for the value of even the most humble ingredients.

The evening hit a high note when a group of Hazan’s former students gathered to share old photos and mementos. Hazan’s emotion was apparent as her students expressed how profoundly she had touched their lives.

Indeed, all of us have richer culinary lives because of the love and passion for Italian cuisine that Hazan has shared for decades. She is a legend of enormous talent, but also someone we can all relate to. After all, like most of us, she started out in the kitchen with nothing more than a cookbook and the love and encouragement of family.

Cheers and long life to Marcella and Victor!

Get a printable copy of Marcella Hazen’s Apple Cake with Raisins and Rum.

There is a small cabin at Lake Tahoe that always embraces me with its quiet beauty and ability to shut out the chaos of modern life. Earlier, a long walk along the beach enhanced my appetite and sent me happily into the cabin’s tiny kitchen where I made a large pot of homemade French onion soup for dinner. This simple meal-in-a-bowl melds the complex flavors of a rich beef broth, brandy, dry white wine and caramelized onions with crunchy toasted slices of French bread and gooey, bubbling cheese.

The family deserted me for a racy, loud Scrabble game by the roaring fire in the living room. I settled in for some alone time, gathered all my ingredients, and started peeling and thinly slicing 12 cups of onions for the soup. They were more pungent than usual and I teared up quickly. It didn’t matter what I did, my eyes were suffering. Soon everyone in the other room was complaining and opening doors to escape the onions. Ultimately, they fled outside.

Obviously I had to stay with it, but wondered if the poor people of ancient Rome and Greece had this problem when they prepared onions for their original soup, or if their naturally grown produce was milder than what we find in our markets today. Did they know how to prevent tearing? Guess I’ll never know.

As I began sautéing the onions the tears receded and the house filled with that wonderful scent that tells you something delicious is coming. I poured a glass of red wine, the others returned to their Scrabble game and we all breathed deep.

Later, as I served steaming bowls of soup topped with the toasted bread and melted cheese, everyone laughed about the burning eyes but agreed that the soup was almost orgasmic in taste. I told them that King Louis XV of France created this classic at his hunting lodge during the 1700s. Apparently Louis got hungry and discovered that the cupboard was basically bare. He rummaged around and found some onions, butter, and champagne for soup, along with some stale bread and cheese. We all raised our glasses to King Louis, and agreed that even a King couldn’t help but slurp a soup this tearfully good.

French Onion Soup

2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
10–12 cups thinly sliced onions*
1 ½ teaspoons salt
½ teaspoon sugar
4 teaspoons flour
8 cups homemade beef stock*
¼ cup brandy
½ cup dry white wine
¾ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
8 1-inch thick slices French bread, toasted
3 cups cheese, grated***

*For an accurate quantity, do not separate the slices into rings until after you measure them.

**Use homemade beef stock for best flavor. If you use canned broth, try chicken broth, which has better flavor than canned beef broth. Keep in mind that canned broth is quite salty, so you may want to reduce the salt in the recipe.

*** Gruyere, Parmesan Reggiano, Swiss, and Asiago chesses are all good choices.

Instructions
1. Combine the butter and olive oil in a large, heavy bottomed skillet over medium-low heat.

2. Add the onions and salt and sauté for several minutes, then cover with a lid and cook 12–15 minutes, until the onions become translucent.

3. Remove the lid, increase the heat to medium, add the sugar and toss well. Cook, stirring frequently, until the onions are a deep golden brown—approximately 30 minutes.

4. Add the brandy and deglaze the skillet.

5. Add the flour and stir to coat the onions evenly. Continue cooking for 2–3 minutes.

6. Remove the onions from the heat and add the stock, wine, and pepper.

7. Return the pot to the stove, turn the heat to medium-high, partially cover the soup with a lid and bring to a lively simmer. Continuing cooking for 30 minutes.

8. Remove from the heat and adjust the salt and pepper.

9. Ladle the soup into individual, heat-resistant soup bowls and top each with a toasted slice of French bread and a generous portion of grated cheese.

10. Place under the broiler until the cheese melts and turns pale golden brown.

11. Serve immediately.

Serves 6–8

Get a printable copy of French Onion Soup.

I love Indian food and could happily eat it forever. So when it came time to develop the Beyond Wonderful Indian section several years ago, I asked my great friend, Leela Manilal to help create the recipes and how-to cooking techniques with me. Leela and I have cooked together for 25 years and I knew that she would be the perfect International Home Chef, India.

A retired journalist who divides her time between New Delhi, India and the San Francisco Bay Area, Leela is returning state-side next month and staying through March. That means lots of cooking sessions and new recipes for you—and better yet, it means great eating for me. I’m also making plans for my tenth trip to India, coming this spring. I’ll blog regularly from the road, sharing recipes and culinary adventures.

To get in the mood for all things Indian, I’ve cooked a special dinner for my family tonight: chicken curry, a big pot of Basmati rice and chana masala. While chopping and sautéing, it occurred to me that chana masala—a simple dish of garbanzo beans (chickpeas) with onions, ginger, garlic, tomatoes and spices—is an easy introduction to Indian cuisine for novice cooks. Plus, like many Indian dishes, chana masala gets more flavorful the longer it sits. Make lots and you’ll have wonderful leftovers for lunches the next day. For Western cooks, this adds an exotic element to your menu, and it’s gentle on the food budget.

Hungry? Check out all of our Indian recipes catalogued on Leela’s International Home Chef page.

Chana Masala

Ingredients

1 medium onion
6 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 1-inch piece fresh ginger, minced
1 tablespoon crushed garlic
1–2 green chiles, seeded and minced*
½ teaspoon red chili powder
1 tablespoon ground coriander
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
½ teaspoon ground turmeric
1 cup water
2 cups canned chopped tomatoes, drained**
3 15.5-ounce cans garbanzo beans, drained
1 tablespoon amchur powder***
1 teaspoon garam masala

 * Use Thai or serrano chiles. The heat of chilies changes with the seasons, so use your judgment when adding them.

** Use canned tomatoes from Modena, Italy or Pomi brand tomatoes found in fine grocery stores—Their flavor is superb!

*** Amchur powder is made from dried green mangoes and available online at ecommerce stores like http://www.namaste.com, or at Indian grocery stores. While it enhances the recipe, it’s not absolutely essential.

Instructions

1. Peel and quarter the onion, place it in the food processor, and process until smooth. Disard the extra liquid.

2. Heat the oil in a medium, heavy-bottomed skillet over a medium-high flame. When very hot, add the onion and cook until browned, approximately 4 to 5 minutes. Adjust the heat as needed so that the onion does not burn.

3. Stir in the ginger and cook for 2 minutes; add the garlic and cook for another minute.

4. Add the green chiles, chili powder, coriander, cumin and turmeric, and mix to blend.

5. Lower the heat to medium, add 1/2 cup of the water and the tomatoes. Continue cooking and stirring for two minutes.

6. Add the remaining water and mix well.

7. Stir in the garbanzo beans.

8. Lower the heat to medium-low and cook for 10 minutes.

9. Add the amchur powder and garam masala and mix well. Cook for two minutes and remove from the heat.

Yield: 6 servings
Preparation time: approximately 30 minutes

Get a printable copy of Chana Masala for easy reference.

My Parisian friend Alx Wagner and I have spent a lot of time in the kitchen teaching each other new recipes and techniques and trading culinary stories. Since it’s apple season she suggested that we make a couple of French tarte tatins—those wonderful caramel-flavored apple tarts—for dinner. I thought they might be too much work for a weeknight meal considering our large group of houseguests and family. “No, no. I have a very easy recipe and it is sooo good. I make it all the time at home.” Who could argue?

We headed to the market for the day’s supplies; some apples, caramel sauce and a box of best-quality, pre-made pie crusts. Neither one of us wanted to fuss with making our own caramel or pastry today. Alx filled a sack with Golden Delicious apples and said, “These are one of the best for this tart because they hold their shape well. Don’t buy apples that you’d use in pie or they could become mushy.”

As we strolled up and down the aisles collecting the ingredients, Alx told me that the tart was accidently created by French woman, Stephanie Tatin, 120 years ago. Stephanie owned l’ Hotel Tatin in the Loire Valley with her sister Carolina, and was known for her apple pies. One day things went badly for her—or did they? The dining room was hopping when she set a pan full of apples with sugar and butter cooking. Distracted, she smelled the soon-to-be-burned apples and worked quickly to save the dish. Stephanie covered the apples with some pie dough and shoved them into an oven to finish cooking. When the crust was golden, she removed it—probably held her breath—and inverted the apples onto a plate. Voila! Unbeknownst to her, a classic was born.

Back in my kitchen, Alx and I peeled, cored and halved enough apples for the two tarts. She melted some butter in my well-seasoned iron skillet and tossed in some apples. A few flips of her wrist and all were well coated. Alx lowered the heat and said, “Let them cook for about 15 minutes—tuning them after 8 or 9 minutes. You want the apples softened but still firm.”

I got out two pie plates and Alx spread several generous tablespoon of caramel sauce on the bottom of each. This is all the flavoring this tart needs—there are no spices like we use in our American pies. Alx arranged the apples round side down, then I laid the pastry over the top of each tart and we tucked it snugly under the apples around the edges. We put the tarts in a preheated, 350-degree oven to cook until golden—about 35 minutes.

While they baked, I poured us each a glass of wine and learned how the fame of Stephanie Tatin’s amazing tart spread far and wide. Restaurants sent spies so they could recreate the dessert. Even legendary restaurateur Louis Vaudable of Maxim’s Paris added the tart to his menu. The rest is history.

As we pulled the tarts from the oven I worried that they would stick, making for an ugly presentation. “Don’t worry, I’ve never had one stick before,” Alx reassured me. I ran a knife around the edges to loosen things up and silently asked the cooking gods to be good to us. Both tarts dropped easily onto their platters as a delicate caramel scent filled the air.

“Always serve Tarte Tatin warm, never cold,” Alx advised. “I like it with thick cream on the side—not too sweet.” My Parisian guests were thrilled to see the tart, while my family thought it was a fancy open-faced apple pie! Everyone agreed this should become a regular on my table.

The great thing about Alx’s easy tarte tatin recipe is the brilliant use of bottled caramel sauce and pre-made pastry dough. Things come together quickly, making it a real option for a weeknight dessert or unexpected guests.

Here’s to you, Stephanie Tatin, for not abandoning your burning apples. What would apple season be without your wonderful creation?

Get a printable copy of this easy tarte tatin.

Give me a plate of Chef Gianni Audieri’s gnocchi with a glass of wine and I’m a very happy lady. So when Gianni offered to teach me how to make these classic Italian potato dumplings in his Fior d’ Italia kitchen, I was out the door.

Gianni greeted me at the bar and we made our way through the restaurant to the kitchen. There I met master gnocchi maker, Jesus Avarca, who had prepared everything needed for the day’s gnocchi production and my lesson. Gianni smiled and said “he’s the best around—faster than a machine.” We moved to a station stacked with freshly baked potatoes that filled the air with their warm, earthy scent. Gianni picked up his sharp knife and began cutting the potatoes in half and scooping their flesh into a large stainless steel bowl. He worked quickly at what seemed like a huge amount, but I realized that the home chef would only require four potatoes, not fifty.

Soon there was a pile of potato skins and I confided that they were my favorite part of roasted potatoes. Gianni told how he used to fry the skins and serve them at the bar as munchies, “but people are watching their fat today so we don’t do it so much anymore.”

Jesus took the potatoes to a large food mill and began processing them, then offered me a turn. As I turned the mill, Gianni stressed how important this step was to produce fluffy potatoes for the dough. At home, a potato ricer would work well.

Next, Jesus mixed the butter and egg yolks into the potatoes. I wondered if the potatoes were too hot for the yolks, but Gianni assured me that while the butter would melt, there would be no scrambled eggs today. “It’s important that you not add too much butter or egg yolks, because the excess fat will make the gnocchi fall apart when cooking,” he counseled.

Jesus began adding the flour—a small, consistent amount at a time—and mixed it to form the dough. “Barbara, do you know the secret to perfect gnocchi?” asked Gianni. “Add as little flour as possible or the gnocchi will be tough and chewy. I use Idaho russet potatoes because they are low in moisture and require less flour.”

Soon there were two large balls of dough that Jesus began dividing into equal parts. Both men worked to roll the pieces into long snakes the width of a finger. Then Jesus took over, cutting the snakes into ¾-inch gnocchi with lightning speed. My photographer nudged me and said that he was having trouble photographing Jesus because he was moving too fast—even using the camera’s sports setting, the images were a blur. Gianni laughed heartily, “see, I told you—he’s better than a machine, and they are all perfect!”

It got even more impressive as Jesus took a simple table fork and gently pressed each tiny dumpling against the back of the tines, while at the same time creating a perfect thumb indentation on the reverse side to capture the sauce later. Amazing! They both laughed and handed me a fork. “Here, you try it.” I gave it my best shot—slowly—but the tines went too deep. The thumb print was pathetic, flattening the gnocchi beyond recognition. Gianni threw my attempts back in the dough. “Practice and you’ll get the hang of it quickly,” he reassured me. “Jesus has been doing this for 26 years at Fior.”

Within minutes there were hundreds of tiny dumplings. Gianni scooped some onto a tray and dumped them into a large pot of salted, boiling water on the stove. “Barbara, cook them for about 3 minutes. They’ll float to the top when they are done.” Like popcorn, they began popping to the surface. Gianni removed the large basket from the water and plunged the gnocchi into a huge waiting ice water bath to stop the cooking.

“You can serve them right away without the bath, but we store them for our daily orders. I drizzle them with olive oil, give them a good toss and store. At home you could refrigerate them for several days.”

“Now, tell me—what’s the secret to perfect gnocchi?” chef Gianni asked. With the pride of a student, I replied, “Use as little flour as possible or the gnocchi will be tough and chewy.” He was charmed, and with a twinkle in his eye offered a final note of encouragement. “Practice with the fork and thumb. You’ll get the rhythm in no time.”

All that education had given me quite an appetite, and the sauce station was right in front of me. Which one did I want for lunch? Gorgonzola looked good; marinara would be tasty. Then I saw a beautiful pinky-orange tomato cream sauce—salsa di pomodoro Napoli—and knew that it was the one.

I left the kitchen and got comfy in a quiet back booth, ordered a glass of wine and was delighted when Gianni arrive with two large bowls of the freshly made gnocchi. Each bite was heaven as the sauce clung to the perfectly-formed dumplings. This was a wonderful day; a respected friend shared a treasured recipe, and I have a new skill to practice and—hopefully—perfect. Now, it’s your turn. Salute!

Get a printable recipe for Gnocchi and Tomato Sauce, and an illustrated, step-by-step How To Make Gnocchi.

Read more about Giannia Audieri in Barbara’s blog—”Secrets of Squid Frying Calamari at Fior d’Italia“.

The last time that my family and I were in Paris we ate a lot of croque monsieurs; those tasty grilled ham and cheese sandwiches that you find in cafes and bars all over France. I was never sure if it was the ambience or my imagination, but they didn’t taste anything like our American counterparts. When my Parisian friends Alexandra Wagner, Antoine Coulon and Shefali Manilal—all great cooks—arrived at my home for their San Francisco holiday, I wanted to learn how to make these delectable sandwiches from the experts.

I stocked my refrigerator and pantry with everything needed for scrumptious meals and cooking sessions, especially ham and lots of different cheeses. Early the first morning, Alexandra—or Alx —joined me in the kitchen while I made coffee. We agreed the croque monsieurs could work just fine for breakfast.

With a cup of strong coffee in one hand, I rooted through the refrigerator and collected a loaf of good white sandwich bread, some thinly sliced plain ham and a block of gruyère cheese. Made in Switzerland, this cow’s milk cheese has a rich, nutty flavor and is the classic choice for croque monsieur.  But when Alx saw my choice she immediately objected. “No, no, let’s use the gouda. It’s what we use in my native Belgium and I prefer its flavor.” I grabbed the cheese, the butter dish and my trusty iron skillet. We were ready to go!

As we set up our assembly line, Alx told me that originally, French workers brought croque monsieurs to work and stowed them on their hot radiators so they would be crispy and oozing gooey cheese in time for their mid-day meal.

She took a slice of bread, added the cheese and ham and topped it with the second slice of bread. Alx spread soft butter on both sides of the sandwich while I melted butter in the skillet. As I grilled up the first four sandwiches, Alx suggested that we do a couple of variations. Her favorite included placing an extra slice of cheese on top and broiling it for several minutes until the cheese bubbled merrily.

While several sandwiches broiled, I learned that croque monsieurs first appeared on Paris menus in 1910, and that Marcel Proust mentioned them in his 1918 work, À la recherche du temps perdu. That was about all the chit-chat I had time for, because the heavenly smell of broiling cheese was pushing my appetite over the limit!

I was also eager to try croque madams—the same basic sandwich with a fried egg on top. Soon the skillet was sizzling as Alx fried a batch of eggs sunny-side-up and artfully slid them onto four more beautiful grilled sandwiches.

Unlike monsieur, madame appeared in 1960 and is said to have gotten her name because the egg resembled an old-fashioned woman’s hat or an ample breast. Personally, I figured some poor mother did it to get extra food into her kids. I giggled as it occurred to me that beautiful madame was on top of monsieur—way to go!

As the good morning kitchen smells wafted through the house, the family and guests sleepily made their way downstairs, poured steaming cups of coffee and came to consciousness. Antoine told how he and Shefali love to make croque monsieurs for late Sunday suppers after a busy weekend. “Many cafes and home cooks serve these on top of a small green salad dressed simply with oil and vinegar for a complete meal,” said Alx. I asked if they ever made croque monsieurs with bechamel or mornay sauce like I’d read about. Alx said, ”yes, you can do that but it’s so fussy. These are simple and so good.”

With a second cup of coffee, I was ready to take on a croque madam. I put one on a plate and headed to the garden where Alx joined me. The first bite was heavenly—everything I remembered. Suddenly, I was transported to the little Paris sidewalk cafe in the Marais District where we ate these every day. As I took another bite I pondered the difference between this and plain old ham-and-cheese. I noted that the thinly sliced boiled ham with gouda is more delicate that the thicker-cut, often smoked ham with cheddar or American cheese typically used here. And the secret ingredient—if there is one—is butter, butter, butter. No margarine or vegetable oil allowed, or you will never know the pleasures of monsieur and madame in that hungry, devouring, savoring-every-crumb kind of way.

Get printable recipes for the Croque Monsieur Sandwich and the Croque Madame Sandwich.

Gather a group of foodies and chefs together for a meal and the topic is always food: ingredients, recipes, war stories and tools. When award winning culinary author, columnist and teacher Marie Simmons showcased her 20th cookbook—Thing’s Cooks Love: Implements. Ingredients. Recipe—at the latest Cooks with Books event at the Left Bank Brasserie, the buzz never stopped.

This beautifully designed book is the first publication from Sur la Table, the Seattle-based culinary retailer. Its goal: to teach cooks–—both novice and accomplished—how to stock their kitchens, select and master tools and successfully prepare over 100 recipes. As the evening unfolded and I spent some time with the author and her book, it was easy to see why Marie Simmons was the perfect choice to write this.

The evening was warm and it seemed like the entire world was out enjoying life as guests began arriving. Marie chatted and laughed with those gathered as she took up residence at a table just outside the room and started signing books. While this was an intimate gathering, I’ve always wondered if authors get squirrely signing hundreds of books at larger signings. When I asked her about it, Marie laughed and related how she once signed what seemed like thousands at a giant warehouse store. A worker had set up a long table, opened the books to the proper page, and stacked them high the full length of the table. “Marie Simmons” soon degenerated into a scribble as she worked her way through the chore. Hearing this story again made me realize how fortunate I am to enjoy the richer author experience provided by great events like Cooks with Books.

As I watched her work and interact with fans, it was obvious that Marie is one of those rare people that immediately puts people at ease and makes them feel like they have her full attention. In the dining room, Marie’s table was filled with close friends there to support her, colleagues and CWB guests. Within minutes we all introduced ourselves and were in deep foodie conversations. All were hungry, munching on fresh bread and butter and enjoying wine created by Marie’s husband, John Simmons.

Marie joined us for the first course, a vibrant, red-orange tomato saffron broth with saffron cream. When she got up to speak, she announced that the tomatoes were left out of the recipe ingredients list in the book. “We all read the galleys and made corrections but somehow they got left out. Use three pounds of tomatoes when you make this at home.” It’s somehow nice to know that even the most seasoned pros aren’t above an editing error now and then!

Chef Scott Howard came to the room and we learned that he used heirloom tomatoes in the broth. One woman detected a slight hint of seafood and asked Chef what he used. “No seafood in the broth.” He’d used three varieties of heirloom tomatoes and told us each has its own distinctive taste. This could explain the complexity of flavor.

Risotto is one of my all-time favorites so I was happy when this creamy rice dish with granny smith apples, hazelnuts and prosciutto arrived. We all loved that the prosciutto was crisp like a thin cracker. Chef Howard told us that he baked the prosciutto slices between two pieces of parchment paper to achieve this effect—one he felt was a good contrast to the soft risotto and apples.

Throughout dinner Marie worked her way around the room talking with each guest and answering questions. At times she turned and addressed the entire group with tips, background stories and observations that would help them later in the kitchen.

One guest at our table shared that she was originally put off by the book and had viewed it as a giant advertisement for Sur la Table’s often expensive, name-brand products. Marie shared that she’d had similar concerns, but had worked hard to provide a treasure trove of information and recipes that would help and inspire readers. While she loves the implements featured in the book, Marie knows that many cooks can’t always afford them so recommends alternatives both in the book and at her store appearances.

During one appearance at a cooking store, Marie began offering affordable alternatives to pricey equipment and noticed that the manager looked tense. Later he happily informed her that they had sold five thousand dollars worth of products—both the featured ones and her alternatives. Sur la Table should realize that in her concern for all cooks, Marie Simmons is really a brilliant marketer.

I peeked in my book to find out what tool was used for the main course of pork medallion sauté with figs, and discovered it was a simple meat pounder. Contrary to what many believe, this is not just a clumsy club to beat veal, chicken, and beef into shredded submission, but a useful tool that should be selected for its weight and balance and ability to flatten. As I scanned the tips and recommended care I learned more than I ever knew was possible.

As Chef Howard’s fresh apricot and blueberry tart arrived, several of us started talking about the spirit of the night. The energy level remained high, due in part to Marie. One of her friends noted that, “she’s passionate about her work and sharing it with others. Marie is a good friend and a great person.” As a self-taught cook and reader of thousands of cookbooks over the years, I recognized in Marie the mentor we all wish we’d had during our novice years. There’s a lot to be learned from her new book and I can’t wait to get started.

Get a printable copy of Marie Simmon’s Pork Medallion Sauté with Figs recipe.