Summer is my favorite time of year for many reasons. Where I live in the Pacific Northwest, the warm weather is a welcome break from the months of overcast days. The average temperature in Seattle only exceeds 70°F between late June through early September and is rarely over 80°F. With the specific climate we have, we have a lot of farms growing apples, cherries, grapes, and hops. Washington’s farms are a huge part of what makes summer here so special. The state produces an incredible variety of crops, but apples remain king, with Washington responsible for roughly 70 percent of all apples grown in the United States. We enjoy incredible farmers markets. Summer is the season of glorious fruits and vegetables, transformed into recipes acting as ambassadors for the region.

Many cultures around the world have their own classic recipes which have evolved based on their local agriculture. So famous are these regional dishes and/or their agriculture that some cultures are defined by them. Take, for example, Georgia, known as the Peach State, which has around 70 roads in the state named after peaches. In Atlanta, Peachtree Street is one of the city’s major routes. Similarly, Idaho is known for potatoes, and Nebraska is known for corn. If you want to know more about a region and its people, it’s wise to first look at what the people there grow and eat.

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Summer salads are ubiquitous. Undoubtedly, you can travel anywhere in the summer and enjoy a salad comprised of delicious local ingredients. Most people think of greens when they hear salad, but my favorites almost always omit or limit them. Lisa and I are lucky enough to live close to a farm stand that is open all summer. There’s something super inspiring that happens when you walk around a farmer’s market, and I always end up blowing past any budget I had going in. In mid-August, our farm stand has great peaches and tomatoes. I picked some up, not knowing what I was going to make, but certain that whatever salad I used them in would be wonderful.

Welcomed summer salad contenders include Caprese, Tomato Cucumber Feta, Mango Salad, along with salads made with grains like tabbouleh and pasta salads. Lisa and I landed on a Grilled Peach salad. Just typing this makes me drool. It is the best meal I’ve had all summer. After the first bite, I was sad that we only made enough for two people. The recipe was found in one of my America’s Test Kitchen books, The Complete Salad Cookbook. Although I made some changes – let’s be honest, mistakes, I feel the finished salad I made reflected the recipe’s vision. Just like when I’m at the farm stand, recipes like this inspire you to use other ingredients in new and exciting ways, at least until the end of summer.

Grilled Peach and Tomato Salad with Burrata and Basil

The peaches I bought were a little bit on the small side and also not quite ripe. Luckily, peaches continue to ripen even after they are picked. I had some time to figure out their destiny, which was as a part of the Grilled Peach Tomato Salad. To ripen, leave peaches out at room temperature. If you want to slow down this process, you can put them in the fridge - they will last for about one week. If they start getting wrinkly, they will also likely be mealy and headed toward smoothie town. To tell if your peach is ripe, it’s as easy as checking how soft it is. Hard and firm are not adjectives that describe a ripe peach. You’re looking for soft, enough for your thumb to leave a small impression when pressed. It will be juicier, and the pit will also be less resistant to removal. There is nothing on this planet like a perfectly ripe peach.

After gathering all the ingredients we were going to use - peaches, tomatoes, burrata cheese, and basil - I got to work. This was the easy part. Despite my phone predicting perfect weather, it decided to rain, and thus, grilling peaches on my Weber was out of the question. My first instinct was to wait until the next day, but according to the reports, it was going to rain for the next couple of days. Anyone with kids will tell you that you’re constantly pivoting and “making it work.” The same philosophy holds true in any kitchen. So we decided to try cooking the peaches on our grill pan and finish them in the oven. Despite having grilled peaches before, I was a little nervous cooking them inside for some reason. I guess that’s why I forgot a simple step, which I am telling you right now: Don’t forget to butter your peach halves before you put them on the pan. Even though I didn’t ruin the peaches, I didn’t achieve the quintessential grill marks I was looking for, and they stuck to the pan enough to be annoying. If you watch our video, you’ll see what I mean. Finally, I covered the pan and put it in the oven for around 15 minutes. The skins slipped right off, and I was on to the next step.

The rest of the recipe is straightforward. I diced, then seasoned a giant heirloom tomato with salt, chopped some basil, and made an unbelievably simple vinaigrette - so simple I’m not sure salt, oil, and vinegar qualify. I had to remind myself that simple is good and even if you’re tempted, you don’t need to meddle with it. I mixed up the diced tomato and peaches with the vinaigrette while I tore up a few balls of burrata cheese, my current favorite cheese. Everything was plated up, and after topping with the cheese and basil, I drizzled just enough olive oil to make the salad even more gorgeous.

Looking back, I think the thing I remember most about this salad isn't the burrata or even the peaches. It's that everything about making it required adjusting. The peaches weren't quite ready. The weather didn't cooperate. My original plan went out the window. But that's cooking, and honestly, that's life. Sometimes the best meals happen because you stop fighting circumstances and work with what you've got. Summer eventually ends, the farm stands close, and the peaches disappear. That's exactly why meals like this feel special when they come around.

For most of my life, chicken wings meant one thing: Buffalo wings. Sure, you could order barbecue or teriyaki if you felt adventurous, but the gold standard was always a basket of crispy wings swimming in buttery hot sauce. Lemon pepper wings existed somewhere in the background of my culinary consciousness, but I never gave them much thought. Then I learned about Atlanta's obsession with "lemon pepper wet," and suddenly everything I thought I knew about chicken wings was up for debate. The idea of lemon pepper wings wasn't entirely alien to me; they just conjured up visions of the stale plastic bottle of lemon pepper seasoning sitting in the back of my spice cabinet. Occasionally I'd sprinkle some on vegetables or chicken breasts, but it never felt particularly exciting. To think lemon pepper would completely change the way I thought about one of my favorite foods was unimaginable.

Not too long ago, I was reading an issue of one of my many back issue copies of Cook’s Country, which is part of America’s Test Kitchen. Within the April/May 2022 issue, I kept going back to the recipe and article on page 9. I was fascinated that the people of Atlanta prefer wings prepared in a way other than what I expected to be the last word on hot wings. I read that their favorite variation is known as “lemon pepper wet,” in which crispy fried wings are coated with a zesty, peppery dry seasoning blend and topped with either clarified butter or buffalo sauce. How good could it be? The dry ingredients list alone was as long as my arm and included dehydrated lemon zest. The perfectly classic Buffalo wings I have made for the last many years only required a dusting of flour with salt and pepper before frying up and slathering with a bottled hot sauce and melted butter. I was ready to dismiss the recipe as gimmicky until I read one interesting ingredient - citric acid.

Citric acid is the kind of ingredient you see in sour candy that makes it so good. If the recipe I was making needed more acidity, I would usually add vinegar or lemon juice. I tend to steer away from adding ingredients that seem unnatural, but as it turns out, citric acid is found in lots of baking and canning recipes. Citric acid is a concentrated powder that raises the acidity level of a food or solution it is added to. To give you an idea of how to measure the sourness, ¼ teaspoon citric acid = 1 tablespoon bottled lemon juice. Be aware, citric acid is not as good as lemon juice when controlling oxidation, so it isn’t an ingredient you should substitute if you don’t have lemon juice. When I looked for it in the grocery store, I couldn’t find it, so I ended up ordering some online. Later, I found out that you can usually find it in the jarring and canning section and not the spice aisle.

I like to have my wings wet. I don’t mind them swimming in sauce. There’s a perfect balance of texture, though. You run the risk of a soggy or slimy chicken wing if it’s drenched the way I like them. The article I read has a solution for this - flour, baking powder, and cornstarch are added. If you’ve ever fried anything with cornstarch, you know it gets puffy and crispy. The first time I did this was when making General Tso’s chicken and it was amazing. The coating stayed crisp and crunchy and the puffy coating held on to the sauce. At this point, I knew I would give the recipe a shot. Afterall, I almost always have chicken wings in my freezer.

I wasn’t sure I’d have Buffalo style wings ever again.

For the most part, I followed the America’s Test Kitchen recipe to the letter, but since I didn’t own a microwave oven at the time, I dehydrated the lemon zest in my oven. That step only added about 20 minutes, and I’ll be sure to explain how to do both methods in the recipe. And even though the list of dry ingredients is long, you should already have most of the spices. The only outliers are maybe dried coriander or turmeric. I think it took me a little over an hour from beginning to end to make this recipe for the first time. And if you don’t have a deep fryer like me, cooking in a Dutch oven or shallow frying are definitely recommended options. I just wouldn’t bake them since the wings rely on the texture you can only achieve by frying.

The wings obviously knocked me out. The vibrant orange and flecks of dried lemon zest were more inviting than any wing I had ever been acquainted with. Being used to bright red, burn-your-face-off wings to mild and saucy wings with celery sticks and blue cheese, this newcomer had a lot to say. Holy cow. I want to be honest with you. These wings are the best wings I’ve ever had. It’s not even close. I had the kind of feeling you get when you look down at your plate before you’ve even swallowed your first bite, and feel bad because you wish you had made more. I wanted to call people to tell them about this joyous meal. I hugged my wife and kids and remember it like it was yesterday. I wasn’t sure I’d ever have Buffalo-style wings again. That part, of course, isn’t true, but you still get the idea.

I’m a firm believer that you shouldn’t get stuck in a routine, eating the same food all the time. Changing it up is healthier for every aspect of your life. I know I say it a lot, but having a connection to what you eat is super important, and you tend to not do that when you’re on autopilot in the kitchen. I’m happy I tried an old favorite, reimagined in an exciting new way. It allowed me to rethink all the recipes I tend to think are solved and don’t need improving. Using different spice blends, techniques, and flavor profiles doesn’t always work when you’re making something you already cook well, but you start to see the connection in everything when you venture into uncharted territory. Sometimes it does, and it is one of the most satisfying things you can imagine. I had almost convinced myself that making this recipe was a waste of time, but I’m happy that some mystical force convinced me otherwise. Cooking this meal helped me realize why I love chicken wings so much - the texture and ritual of it, and it didn’t only have to do with the Buffalo sauce I have known my whole life - which I still adore. So call your friends and family, give them the good news that you’re cooking up some wings, and prepare yourself for something very special.

A lot of people at some point in their life realize that learning to cook at home is one of the most important home skills you should invest a significant amount of time in. You don’t need to love cooking, but whether you’re just one person, or part of a large family, the better prepared you are in the kitchen, the better life tends to be. Not only does it save you money in the long run, but you get to eat whatever you want without the restriction of a restaurant’s menu. This is the first part in a series to help anyone just starting out or someone just trying to fill in any gaps. I’ll try to explain the hows and whys of everything so it’s not just a list of items. The first part is about the pantry and dry items. It is a breakdown of those staples—and why building a pantry slowly and intentionally changes the way you cook every day. The second part will cover perishable items and refrigerator management along with maintaining a shopping list. Finally, the third part will cover equipment like cookware and gadgets – and how to use them. I truly hope you get something out of it.

Starting a pantry—whether you’re in your first apartment or settling into a new home—is one of those small things that quietly changes how you cook.

A well-stocked pantry isn’t just for seasoned cooks. It’s arguably even more helpful when you’re just starting out, because it removes friction. It means that when you open a recipe or decide to cook something on a whim, you’re already halfway there.

The goal here isn’t to buy everything at once. It’s to slowly build an inventory of ingredients you reach for often—things that live in your kitchen long enough that they start to feel like part of your routine.

Most of the items below will last a long time in your pantry, sometimes a year or more. Because of that, it’s never a bad idea to grab one or two items when you’re at the grocery store just to keep things topped off.

And truthfully, there have been plenty of times where I’ve had a little too much of something sitting around. But even that ends up being useful. An overstocked pantry has a funny way of pushing you toward creativity—you start cooking based on what you have, instead of what you planned.

Yellow Onions, Garlic and Russet Potatoes

I group these together because, in my kitchen, they basically live together. They’re stored in mesh bags, usually in the garage or pantry space, and they get used constantly. They’re also some of the most economical ingredients you can keep on hand.

Even though they last longer than most fresh produce, they still need attention. The general rule is simple: use the oldest first. In restaurant kitchens this is called FIFO—First In, First Out—and it’s one of the easiest habits to bring home.

As I’m writing this, I somehow have more than 10 pounds of russet potatoes sitting around. It wasn’t intentional, but here we are. I told my wife, Lisa, that I was going to make a batch of potato chips in the deep fryer this weekend to make a dent in them. We had originally planned scalloped potatoes, but at this point I’m just trying to bring the inventory down to something reasonable—somewhere in the 2–5 pound range feels right for normal life.

Same idea applies to onions and garlic: enough to cook freely, not so much that you feel like you’re running a small farm.

• Potatoes

  They are useful in so many ways that it’s hard not to spend this entire list writing about them. Commonly, I like to use potatoes as starch to naturally thicken sauces, in roasting, mashing and frying. Their versatility is almost limitless, as is the ease of prepping and cooking them. For people relatively new in the kitchen, they are also great to practice basic knife skills like dicing. And best of all, they’re super inexpensive.

  STORING:
  Keep potatoes in a cool, dark, dry place—garage, pantry, or under a sink if it stays dry. Avoid refrigeration. If they turn soft, sprout heavily, or develop green patches, it’s time to let them go.

• Yellow Onions

  Like potatoes, onions are super versatile. They are the base and foundation of so many recipes, along with other ingredients like carrots and celery, traditionally. But like potatoes, you can make them the showcase of many recipes. Their forgiving nature also allows you to cook them, using many methods like sauteing, frying, roasting, and stewing. They are the most used aromatic in almost every culture’s cooking. Their natural sweetness is perfect for recipes like French Onion Soup and Onion Rings along with many classic sauces.

  STORING:
  Keep onions in a ventilated, dark place. I usually suspend mesh bags of them in my garage pantry area. Don’t refrigerate whole onions unless they’ve already been cut. If they begin sprouting or developing soft spots or mold, toss them.

• Garlic

  Garlic is an ingredients which has earned a permanent spot on my kitchen counter, at least a few heads, that is. It’s sharp when raw, sweet and mellow when cooked, and it quietly supports almost everything it touches. It’s rarely the center of a dish, but when it’s missing, you notice immediately. A few heads go a long way if you cook regularly.

  STORING:
  Keep garlic in a cool, dry, well-ventilated place—never sealed tightly in plastic. Mesh bags or open baskets work best. Garlic likes airflow. Once the cloves become soft or heavily sprouted, it’s time to replace them.

Flour and Cornstarch

Flour is one of those pantry staples that quietly unlocks a lot more cooking than people expect.

All-purpose flour is the one I always recommend starting with. It’s versatile enough for baking, thickening, dredging, and general cooking without requiring too much thought. Once you cook more regularly, you can branch into bread flour, self-rising flour, or alternative flours like almond or gluten-free blends.

Cornstarch plays a different role but is just as useful. It’s one of the simplest ways to thicken sauces or soups and can completely change texture with very little effort.

• Flour

  There’s something comforting about always having flour around. Even if you’re not a big baker, flour quietly solves a lot of kitchen problems.

  STORING:
  Keep flour in airtight containers somewhere cool and dry. Flour absorbs odors and moisture pretty easily, so sealing it properly matters more than people think. Whole grain flours spoil faster and are often best kept in the refrigerator or freezer.

• Cornstarch

  Cornstarch is one of those ingredients you don’t think about until you need it, and then suddenly it feels essential. It thickens sauces beautifully, helps create crispy coatings when frying, and is useful in everything from gravies to desserts.

  STORING:
  Keep cornstarch sealed tightly and away from humidity. It lasts a very long time as long as moisture stays out.

Baking Soda, Baking Powder, and Sugars

Even if you don’t consider yourself a baker, these are pantry staples worth keeping around. Most people think of them only in the context of cookies and cakes, but all three show up in plenty of savory cooking applications too. Like many pantry ingredients, they don’t take up much space, aren’t particularly expensive, and have a habit of saving you an unexpected trip to the grocery store.

I’ve also found that keeping these ingredients on hand makes it much easier to say “yes” when inspiration strikes. Whether it’s a last-minute batch of pancakes for the kids, homemade biscuits with dinner, or a dessert you decide to make on a rainy Sunday afternoon, you’ll already have the foundation ready.

• Baking Soda

  Baking soda is one of those ingredients that quietly does a lot of work behind the scenes. In baking, it reacts with acidic ingredients like buttermilk, yogurt, lemon juice, or vinegar to create lift and help baked goods rise. But it has uses outside of baking too. A small amount can help brown foods more effectively, tenderize certain ingredients, and even help beans soften more quickly during cooking. Because recipes usually call for relatively small amounts, a single box can last quite a while.

  STORING – Keep baking soda in an airtight container in a cool, dry place. While it has a long shelf life, it does lose potency over time. If you’ve had the same box for years, it’s probably worth replacing.

• Baking Powder

  Baking powder serves a similar purpose to baking soda, but it’s a little more self-sufficient. Because it already contains an acid, it doesn’t need additional acidic ingredients to activate. It’s responsible for the rise in everything from pancakes and muffins to biscuits and quick breads. I always keep a container around because there are few things more disappointing than deciding to bake something only to discover your baking powder expired years ago.

  STORING – Store baking powder tightly sealed in a cool, dry pantry. Like baking soda, it gradually loses effectiveness with age. If you’re unsure whether it’s still active, a quick internet search will show you a simple test using warm water.

• Sugars

  Most people think of sugar as a baking ingredient, but I use it in savory cooking all the time. A pinch can balance acidity in tomato sauces, help vegetables caramelize, or round out a vinaigrette. It’s less about making food sweet and more about creating balance. For most home cooks, I recommend keeping at least two types on hand:

  • Granulated sugar for everyday baking and cooking.

  • Brown sugar for baking, sauces, marinades, and barbecue applications.

  From there, you can branch into powdered sugar, turbinado sugar, demerara sugar, or specialty sugars if you find yourself using them regularly. One thing I’ve learned over the years is that sugar lasts a very long time. It may harden, clump, or become inconvenient, but it’s remarkably resilient.

  STORING – Keep sugars in airtight containers to prevent moisture from getting in. Brown sugar is notorious for drying out and turning into what feels like a brick. A sealed container will dramatically extend its life and keep it easy to work with.

One thing I appreciate about these ingredients is that they don’t demand much attention. Unlike produce, they won’t complain if you forget about them for a few weeks. They’re simply there when you need them, quietly waiting to help turn a handful of pantry staples into breakfast, dessert, or dinner. That’s exactly the kind of ingredient I like having around.

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Spices (Cayenne, Cumin, Granulated Garlic, Kosher Salt, Black Peppercorns)

Spices are where cooking starts to feel personal.

Even the simplest dish can shift completely depending on how it’s seasoned. A well-stocked spice shelf means you’re never starting from zero—you’re just deciding which direction to take something.

At minimum, I like keeping cinnamon, paprika, chili powder, chili flakes, oregano, cayenne, garlic powder, and ground ginger around. From there, it builds naturally based on what you cook most often.

Spices last a long time, but they do lose intensity, so refreshing them every so often makes a noticeable difference.

• Cayenne, Cumin, Granulated Garlic

  These are the backbone of a lot of everyday cooking—heat, depth, and familiarity across cuisines.

  STORING:
  Keep spices away from heat, moisture, and direct sunlight. The cabinet directly above your stove is honestly one of the worst places for them, even though almost everyone stores them there at first. A cool cabinet or pantry shelf will keep them flavorful much longer.

• Salt and Pepper

  Kosher salt and whole black peppercorns are non-negotiable. If everything else disappears, these are the first things I replace. Freshly cracked pepper tastes dramatically better than pre-ground, and once you notice the difference, it’s hard to go back.

  STORING:
  Salt lasts essentially forever if kept dry. Peppercorns also keep their flavor for a surprisingly long time if stored whole in airtight containers.

Dry Beans, Rice, and Pasta

These are the pantry workhorses.

They’re also some of the most globally significant ingredients you can cook with. I spent time in Charleston, South Carolina, and the rice and bean traditions there are deeply rooted and worth exploring. There’s a lot to learn from chefs preserving heritage grains and techniques—I recommend anything written by Sean Brock.

Beans especially are worth keeping both canned and dried, but I’ve started leaning more toward dried beans when I have the time. They take longer, but the texture is better, the flavor is deeper, and you control the seasoning completely. They’re also more economical.

• Beans

  Versatile, filling, and a reliable source of protein. A little patience goes a long way here. The dried beans which I always have are: Black beans, Pinto, Garbanzo, and some kind of red bean. There are others on my shelf, but these are always there.

  STORING:
  Keep dried beans in airtight containers somewhere cool and dry. Older beans can take much longer to cook, so it’s worth rotating through them rather than letting them sit untouched for years.

• Rice

  Rice is one of the most universal staples in cooking. It can be a base, a side, or the center of the plate depending on how you treat it. I almost always keep multiple varieties around because different dishes really do benefit from different rice. I keep brown, long and short grain white rice, Arborio, Basmati, Jasmine and occasionally, some variety of wild rice.

  STORING:
  White rice stores extremely well in airtight containers. Brown rice has more oils and spoils faster, so it’s often best refrigerated if you don’t use it regularly.

• Pasta

  Fast, dependable, and endlessly adaptable. One of the easiest ways to turn pantry staples into a full meal. Some pasta I always have: long pasta like angel hair, spaghetti or bucatini, penne or ziti, elbow or shells, and finally lasagna.

  STORING:
  Dry pasta is wonderfully low maintenance. Keep it sealed and dry, and it’ll last for a very long time.

Acids: Lemons and Vinegars

Acid is one of the most underrated tools in cooking.

It’s what makes food feel finished. Without it, even well-seasoned dishes can fall a little flat. A squeeze of lemon or a splash of vinegar can completely shift the direction of a dish. For a really great explanation and in much better detail, I recommend the book, Salt Fat Acid Heat: Mastering the Elements of Good Cooking by Samin Nosrat. It’s outstanding and I have given it as a gift more times than I can remember – Seriously, I’m not exaggerating!

• Lemons

  Fresh lemons brighten almost anything—vegetables, sauces, roasted meats, even simple grains. They show up more often than you’d expect once you start reaching for them regularly.

  STORING:
  Lemons can sit on the counter for several days, but they’ll last much longer in the refrigerator. I usually keep a bowl out for the ones I’m actively using and extras in the fridge.

• Vinegars

  Balsamic, red wine, white wine, apple cider—each brings its own character. A small splash can cut richness, balance sweetness, or sharpen flavors in a way nothing else quite does.

  STORING:
  Vinegars are incredibly shelf stable. Keep them tightly sealed in a cool pantry or cabinet away from direct sunlight, and they’ll last a very long time.

Oils: Neutral and Not-So-Neutral

If onions are the foundation of many recipes, oils are the vehicle that gets everything moving. Whether you’re sautéing vegetables, making a vinaigrette, frying potatoes, or finishing a dish right before serving, having a few different oils on hand is one of the easiest ways to set yourself up for success in the kitchen.

I don’t think you need a dozen different oils crowding your pantry shelves, but having at least one neutral oil and one flavorful finishing oil will cover most of your cooking needs. Over time, you’ll probably discover favorites and start collecting a few more.

• Neutral Oils

Neutral oils are exactly what they sound like. They contribute very little flavor of their own and allow the ingredients you’re cooking to be the star of the show. Because of their relatively high smoke points, they’re also ideal for high-heat cooking methods like sautéing, roasting, shallow frying, and deep frying.

Some common examples include:

• Canola oil

• Vegetable oil

• Avocado oil

• Grapeseed oil

• Peanut oil

If I could only keep one neutral oil in my pantry, I’d probably choose avocado oil because of its versatility and high smoke point. That said, I regularly use canola oil because it’s economical and readily available.

One thing worth mentioning is that oils aren’t immortal. Unlike dry goods, they can eventually become rancid. If you open a bottle and it smells off, stale, or oddly bitter, it’s time to replace it.

STORING – Keep oils in a cool, dark place away from direct sunlight and heat sources. A pantry shelf or cabinet works perfectly. Properly stored, most oils will maintain their quality for several months after opening.

• Olive Oil and Other Flavorful Oils

Some oils are ingredients all by themselves.

Extra virgin olive oil is probably the most common example. Depending on where it’s produced, it can be grassy, peppery, fruity, or even slightly bitter. I use it constantly in salad dressings, marinades, pasta dishes, and as a finishing oil drizzled over vegetables, soups, or good bread.

Sesame oil is another pantry staple I always like having around. A few drops can completely transform a dish. Its nutty aroma is unmistakable and adds tremendous character to stir-fries, noodle dishes, dipping sauces, and dressings.

Other oils worth experimenting with include:

• Toasted sesame oil

• Walnut oil

• Chili oil

• Garlic-infused oil

• Pumpkin seed oil

The nice thing about flavorful oils is that a little goes a long way. They’re often less about cooking and more about adding a final layer of flavor.

STORING – Like neutral oils, store these in a cool, dark place. Some specialty oils are more delicate and may benefit from refrigeration after opening. Always check the label and trust your nose if you’re unsure.

A Quick Word on Fat

One of the biggest lessons I learned as I became a better cook is that fat isn’t something to be afraid of—it’s a tool. Fat carries flavor, creates texture, and helps ingredients reach their full potential. The goal isn’t to use as much as possible. It’s to use the right fat for the job.

A well-stocked pantry isn’t just about having ingredients. It’s about having options. A bottle of neutral oil and a bottle of good olive oil can open the door to hundreds of recipes and techniques. That’s a pretty good return on investment for two ingredients that take up very little shelf space.

Final Thoughts

Building a pantry takes time. And please just use my experience as a super basic guide. I intentionally did not include items like breadcrumbs, cornmeal or dried peppers and other grains. I also excluded some baking ingredients like dried fruit and nuts and nut butters. And finally, canned and jarred goods are so vast and cover more than I’m willing to go into here. Suffice it to say, yes, you should also have preserves and canned tomato products. I wanted this list to be manageable. Maybe one day I’ll be lucky enough to write a cookbook and will have the room.

My pantry certainly didn’t happen overnight, and honestly, I’m still adjusting and refining it constantly depending on how I’m cooking and what I’m excited about at the moment. But having these ingredients around changes your relationship with cooking in a really meaningful way. It gives you freedom. You stop feeling like every meal requires a special grocery trip, and instead start realizing you already have the foundation for dozens of meals sitting quietly around your kitchen.

I also think it helps you become a more instinctive cook. You start opening the refrigerator or pantry and excitedly think, “What can I make?”

That’s a pretty great feeling.

There are so many parts of cooking I love talking about beyond just recipes—kitchen habits, techniques, ingredients, food history, mistakes I’ve made, and the little things that slowly make cooking feel more natural and rewarding over time.

And if you enjoyed this kind of long-form newsletter, like I said, keep an eye out for the next 2 parts. I’ll try and get them done in the next month or two; I want to make sure I’m also writing about recipes and the stories which accompany them. Thanks a ton, -Andrew

Recipes really do travel in strange and wonderful ways. Sometimes they come from old cookbooks or clipped magazine pages, and sometimes they come from a friend of a family member on the other side of the world, told mostly from memory during a holiday gathering. That’s exactly how this Shakshuka recipe found us.

My brother-in-law Kevin told us about it after mentioning a dish he used to make all the time when he was living in Australia with his husband, Gregg. While they were there, they made a lot of close friends, and during an Australia Day celebration, one of those friends, Mieke, shared her version of Shakshuka with him. Kevin doesn’t really remember where she originally learned it, and honestly, I kind of love that. Some recipes stop belonging to one place or one person after enough years of being passed around kitchens. They just become part of people’s lives.

And now it’s become part of ours too.

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What I love about Shakshuka is that it feels impressive while being incredibly approachable. Eggs poached in a spiced tomato sauce somehow manage to feel comforting, hearty, and a little dramatic all at the same time. It works for brunch, dinner, or honestly anytime you want something warm with a big piece of bread nearby.

The real backbone of the dish is the spices.

Cumin does a lot of heavy lifting here, bringing this warm, earthy depth that works perfectly with tomatoes. Coriander brightens things up a little with a citrusy, almost floral note that keeps the whole dish from feeling too heavy. And turmeric, which I think people sometimes underestimate, adds this gentle bitterness and warmth that helps tie everything together. I also almost always want black pepper nearby when using turmeric. They just belong together.

One thing I think makes a huge difference with dried spices—and something newer cooks often skip—is blooming them first. It sounds more technical than it is. Really, you’re just briefly cooking the spices in oil before adding your liquids or vegetables. Thirty seconds can completely change how a dish tastes. The second those spices hit hot oil, your kitchen fills with that smell that tells everyone nearby something good is happening.

It’s one of my favorite parts of cooking.

This recipe also gave me another excuse to talk about aquafaba, which still feels a little magical to me. If you’ve never heard of it before, it’s simply the liquid left over from canned chickpeas. Most people pour it straight down the drain without thinking twice, but it’s surprisingly useful. It behaves a lot like egg whites and can be whipped, folded into recipes, or used as a binder in all kinds of cooking.

I love little kitchen discoveries like that—things that make you stop and rethink ingredients you’ve ignored for years.

But more than anything, I think I’m drawn to recipes like this because they remind me how connected food really is. A dish that may have roots somewhere in North Africa or the Middle East ends up being shared in Australia, passed to my brother-in-law, and eventually cooked in our kitchen in the Pacific Northwest. Along the way, it changes a little. Different cooks adjust spices, ingredients shift, techniques evolve. The recipe keeps moving.

That’s how good food survives.

And honestly, I think that’s why I enjoy cooking so much. It rarely feels like you’re just following instructions. You’re participating in something much bigger—something built by countless people cooking for friends, family, and strangers over generations.

This Shakshuka absolutely deserves a spot in that tradition.

It’s simple, deeply flavorful, and the kind of meal that naturally makes people gather around the stove asking when it’ll be ready. And if you happen to tear up some bread and eat it straight from the pan while talking with people you care about, I think you’re probably doing it correctly.

RECIPE

When we started brainstorming ideas for the theme of Recipes Recommended, the first idea we had was to fine-tune recipes we would find on the back of packages of food we would buy from the grocery store, grading how good, well-thought-out, or lazy they were. Lisa and I had a mix of both good and bad, and a fair amount of confusing ones. We actually still plan on making a few of them. For instance, there is a really great chicken casserole we found on the back of a bag of rice. I scanned it, and it’s been sitting in our general “food” folder, where I periodically go back to, wondering if I’ll ever get to half of them or if it’s even worth it. After some honest discussion, we realized that food and recipes are, more than just something that is a part of your day-to-day, extremely meaningful. And making recipes for a laugh and writing about it, albeit kind of fun, isn’t what we aim to do. We also realized that the best cooking inspiration happens when you talk with real friends and acquaintances casually about their lives and the food they grew up eating. Times were different for our parents and their parents, where recipes have been passed down and taught over the years. I love receiving scans, photos, or actual handwritten recipes from the people in my life, and I am almost always touched by the heart that went into making them, even if it was a recipe transcribed from the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook. So, when I invariably start talking about our Substack and YouTube channel with anyone, the topic of heirloom recipes comes up, along with stories about the relationship they had with the person they got them from. Sometimes it’ll stir up memories of licking batter from one of two hand mixer beaters, sharing the other with a sibling, and sometimes it’s memories of meaningful meals after a graduation or other equally joyous celebration. This is the real meaning of cooking for me, and when my oldest and closest friend Noah gave me two recipes he received from his grandmother, Evie, I polled some friends and put her Lemon Delight Pound Cake at the top of our queue.

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Described as a “family favorite,” this recipe has ingredients I was excited to work with, namely apricot nectar. I truly didn’t know what I’d find when I searched online to research it. I thought it might be something like rose water. But as it turns out, and you may already know, it’s made from the puree of apricots. It is known for its sweet and tangy flavor and is often used as a base for cocktails, smoothies, and other refreshing drinks. I found some in the juice aisle at my regular grocery store, and the only other ingredient I didn’t already have in my pantry was lemon extract. No big deal, and also not expensive like vanilla extract.

Also, to be clear, I only have a fraction of the experience in baking and pastry compared to all other cooking. Eager to improve my skills, and with this being a great beginner recipe to understand some things to watch out for, I ended up seeking advice from my friend Mandy, who used to be a head chef, baking in several high-end establishments. I am always in awe of her expertise, and she definitely gave me some good advice when reviewing this recipe. She gave it the thumbs up and confirmed some techniques I had questions about, and I was then comfortable making my first pound cake.

There are really only two steps: making the batter and pouring it into a Bundt pan or loaf pan, and making the icing. We made our batter, apricot nectar and all, and instead of just pouring it in, I lined it with parchment paper first, ensuring that I’d be able to use it as a cradle when removing the cake. After the cake was baked, and the skewer I used to check the doneness came out clean, I made the icing with just lemon juice and powdered sugar. As easy as that. When the cake was still warm, I used that same skewer and poked about 2 dozen holes in it, and poured the icing over the top, letting it soak into the cake. Lisa confirmed to me that this is really common, despite me not previously knowing about the technique. Side note: if I were to use the recommended Bundt pan, the idea is that you pour the icing this way over the bottom of the cake, and when cooled, then pour the rest over the top. I just let it cool on my loaf and poured as much of the remaining icing as I could on top.

This wasn’t an especially complicated recipe, but like I said, it’s a great recipe to learn some basic baking, and I’m always thrilled to learn new things. Also, connecting with a lifelong friend and learning a little more about his family was great. The cake was delicious and got rave reviews from my own mother-in-law, Kim. She even boasted about it on Facebook.

RECIPE

Whenever I get going talking about cooking with friends—especially new friends—the conversation almost always finds its way to stocks and broths eventually. It doesn’t matter if we start with soup, sauces, or just weeknight cooking in general. At some point, I’m probably going to start talking about chicken stock.

And honestly, if nobody stops me, I could probably keep talking about it for hours.

Stocks and broths are the backbone of so much cooking. They quietly sit underneath countless dishes, adding depth, richness, and flavor in ways people don’t always notice until they’re missing. From simple soups to more complicated sauces, they make food feel fuller and more complete. Any time you have the option to cook with stock instead of water, you probably should.

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Because I use chicken stock in at least a third of the meals I make, it’s become one of those kitchen staples I think about constantly. And luckily, making it really isn’t complicated.

The basics

At its core, stock is just a combination of a few simple things working together: aromatics, bones or trimmings, and water.

That’s it.

The aromatics are where a lot of the personality comes from. In a classic chicken stock, you’re usually working with mirepoix—onions, carrots, and celery. It’s one of those foundational combinations that shows up everywhere for good reason. Other cuisines build flavor differently. You’ll see ginger, chilis, and garlic in some broths, or things like lemongrass and shallots in Thai cooking. Different ingredients, same idea: building flavor from the ground up.

Then you have the bones and trimmings. This is where the body and richness come from, especially if you roast them first. Roasted chicken bones add color, texture, gelatin, and depth that water alone could never dream of bringing to a dish. Some stocks come together quickly, like delicate seafood stock, while others—especially beef stock—can simmer for a day or two before they’re really finished.

And finally, water.

I usually use filtered water because our tap water at home isn’t my favorite, but if your tap water tastes good, use it. Stock only has a handful of ingredients, so every part of it matters.

Your sad vegetables still have purpose

One thing I’ve learned over the years is that stock is incredibly forgiving.

That limp celery sitting in the crisper drawer? Perfect. The carrots that are looking a little tired? Throw them in. Parsley stems you’d normally toss? Save them.

My wife probably still thinks it’s strange that I keep bags of vegetable scraps and herb stems around specifically for stock, but working in professional kitchens really changed how I look at food waste. Chefs don’t like seeing usable ingredients thrown away when they can still contribute flavor somewhere else.

That said, not every vegetable belongs in stock.

Beets can completely overpower everything and turn your stock bright purple. Potatoes release too much starch and make things cloudy and strange. Zucchini and squash don’t add much flavor and mostly just muddy things up. Generally, if I’m unsure about something, I’ll look it up before tossing it into the pot. Stock is forgiving, but it still benefits from a little restraint.

Whole chickens make more sense than you think

If you cook with chicken stock regularly, it’s worth getting comfortable with buying whole chickens and breaking them down yourself.

It’s significantly cheaper in the long run, and you end up with exactly what you need for stock—backs, wing tips, bones, and trimmings. Over time, you naturally build a freezer stash without even trying very hard.

Rotisserie chicken carcasses work great too. Anytime we finish one, the bones go straight into the freezer instead of the trash. Once you get into the habit, you start looking at leftovers differently.

Not as scraps. As future stock.

Stock vs. broth

People use the terms “stock” and “broth” interchangeably all the time, and honestly, in home cooking, it’s usually not a huge deal. But there is a difference.

The simplest explanation is that stock is typically made with roasted bones, while broth focuses more on meat and vegetables. Stocks are usually simmered longer, which pulls gelatin and collagen from the bones and gives them a richer texture and deeper flavor.

When I refrigerate homemade stock, it usually turns into something close to Jell-O by the next day. That’s exactly what you want.

Broths tend to be lighter and thinner, which makes them great for things like rice, beans, or grits where you want flavor without too much richness. Stocks, on the other hand, really shine in soups and sauces where that deeper body matters.

Of course, you can use either for almost anything. I definitely do. But it’s worth thinking about what role the liquid is playing in the dish and how much you want it to stand out.

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You should always have stock around

I really believe making homemade stock is one of the best habits a home cook can develop.

It’s inexpensive, incredibly useful, and honestly just satisfying to make. There’s something rewarding about turning scraps and leftovers into something genuinely valuable. It makes you feel more connected to your food and to the process of cooking itself.

And once you start keeping stock in your refrigerator or freezer regularly, you notice the difference immediately. Soups taste better. Rice tastes better. Sauces taste better. Even simple weeknight meals feel a little more thoughtful.

It’s one of those small things that quietly improves almost everything you cook.

I’m not really sure where I got the idea, when I was younger, that elegant food was somehow off-limits to me. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself there were certain dishes only highly trained chefs or people with extraordinary skill were allowed to make. If I saw something in a restaurant that felt fancy or refined, I immediately assumed it existed in a world I wasn’t invited into.

I think part of it came from wanting to respect ingredients, which isn’t a bad instinct on its own. But back then, it was misplaced. Instead of inspiring me to learn, it made me hesitant to even try. So I stuck mostly to comfort food, boxed meals, and recipes that felt safe and impossible to ruin.

That mindset didn’t really start to change until my mid-twenties, around the same time I got serious about cooking and enrolled in culinary school. But it wasn’t just school that changed things. I also became a little less afraid of trying new foods and cooking with ingredients I’d built up in my head as intimidating.

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Seafood was one of those things.

And somehow, I had convinced myself that mussels in white wine sauce were wildly expensive and reserved exclusively for anniversary dinners or special occasions. Like they belonged in candlelit restaurants and nowhere else.

I could not have been more wrong.

I have to imagine I’m not the only person who feels intimidated by unfamiliar food. Honestly, I still catch myself doing it sometimes. But these days, I’m much more willing—almost obligated—to challenge those weird assumptions I’ve built up over the years. If you’ve ever looked at something like foie gras and immediately thought, absolutely not, was it because it seemed strange? Too expensive? Too complicated? Or did it just feel like something you weren’t supposed to cook yourself?

I’ve felt all of that. And now, a lot of the things that once intimidated me have become some of my favorite meals to make at home for my family.

So I want to talk about mussels.

More specifically, I want to talk about a mussels dish that completely changed the way I thought about cooking “fancy” food at home. Once you make it once, not only does it stop feeling intimidating, but it opens the door to trying all kinds of new techniques and ingredients you might’ve avoided before.

I love ordering mussels at restaurants during happy hour and sharing them with my wife, Lisa, but I honestly love making them at home even more. Most grocery stores carry them now, usually in those netted sacks packed on ice, and if you live near the coast, they’re even easier to find. I stopped into a local Asian grocery store recently and found a beautiful bag for under ten bucks. That alone completely shattered the version of this dish I’d built up in my head over the years.

As soon as I bought them, I started mentally flipping through recipes I already knew while also thinking about ways I could tweak things or combine ideas. I eventually landed on Moules Marinières, the classic French preparation with mussels steamed in white wine, butter, shallots, and garlic. It’s one of those dishes that sounds impressive but is built almost entirely on simplicity. Good ingredients, treated carefully, with some crusty bread nearby to soak up the broth.

That said, before you cook mussels, you do need to prep them properly.

I’m not trying to scare anyone off, but seafood deserves attention. Bad shellfish can make you seriously sick, and there are a few steps you really shouldn’t skip. First, when you’re buying mussels, make sure they’re stored on ice. That’s non-negotiable. Next, take a quick look through the bag. If a bunch of them are already hanging open, pick a different one. Open mussels are often dead, and dead mussels should never be eaten.

Once you get them home, keep them cold until you’re ready to cook. Luckily, mussels cook incredibly fast, so you won’t be waiting long. Before cooking, rinse them under cold water and scrub off any grit or debris stuck to the shells.

Remember those open mussels from earlier? Here’s how you double-check them. Give them a gentle tap against the counter or cutting board. If they slowly close back up, they’re alive and perfectly fine to use.

Then there’s the beard.

If you’ve never worked with mussels before, you’ll notice these little wiry fibers sticking out from some of the shells. Those are called byssal threads, or the “beard,” and they’re how mussels attach themselves to rocks and other surfaces in the water. Fascinating? Sure. Appetizing? Not especially.

Thankfully, they’re easy to remove. Most pull right off with a quick tug, though stubborn ones sometimes need a little encouragement from kitchen scissors.

The final step is the float test. Put the mussels in water, and if any float to the surface, toss them. Floating mussels are usually dead, and at that point it’s not worth taking chances.

After that, you’re ready to cook.

And honestly, that’s kind of the point I’m trying to make here. Once you get past the intimidation factor, none of this is actually that complicated. It just requires a little care and willingness to learn something new.

I love thinking about people living along the coast of France casually making mussels at home with good bread and wine like it’s no big deal. Because really, it shouldn’t be. Food shouldn’t feel unreachable or reserved for special occasions or more qualified people.

You’re allowed to make beautiful things.

And the more you push yourself outside your comfort zone in the kitchen, the more confident you become—not just with one recipe, but with cooking in general.

I know firsthand how easy it is to build strange mental barriers around food. That’s part of why it means so much to me seeing my son and daughter already wanting to help in the kitchen. They’re still young, but they’re curious about ingredients and excited to participate. They see cooking as something joyful instead of intimidating.

I hope they keep that feeling.

And honestly, I think more adults should try to get back to it too.

RECIPE

Hungarian mushroom soup ended up being a lot more than just something warm to make on a cold day—it’s one of those recipes that quietly pulls you in. It’s rich, a little smoky, and somehow feels both simple and layered at the same time. I first came across it in the Moosewood Cookbook, which, if you’ve ever flipped through it, has a way of making vegetarian cooking feel approachable without watering anything down. In this post, I wanted to spend a little time not just making the soup, but understanding where it comes from, how to treat the ingredients right (especially the mushrooms), and why recipes like this stick around.

Where this soup comes from

Hungarian mushroom soup has roots in a place where mushrooms aren’t just an ingredient—they’re part of the landscape. Hungary has a long tradition of foraging, and a lot of its cooking reflects that kind of closeness to what’s seasonal and available. This soup leans into that, building flavor with things like paprika, which gives it that unmistakable warmth and depth.

It’s the kind of dish that feels like it came out of someone’s home kitchen, not a restaurant. Nothing flashy, just thoughtful. The Moosewood Cookbook, which came out in the ’70s, does a great job of bringing recipes like this to people who might not have grown up with them. It’s very much in the spirit of what I’ve been drawn to lately—recipes that travel through people, not just pages.

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Cleaning mushrooms (the part I used to overthink)

Before actually making the soup, I had to get past something that used to weirdly intimidate me: cleaning mushrooms. It turns out it’s a lot simpler than I made it.

The biggest thing is starting with good mushrooms—firm, not slimy, nothing questionable. From there, don’t soak them. I know it’s tempting, but they really do just absorb the water and get weird. A damp paper towel or a soft brush does the job just fine.

If they’re especially dirty, a quick rinse right before using them is okay—as long as you dry them right away. And trimming the ends of the stems is usually all they need. Nothing complicated, just a little attention.

Why I keep coming back to vegetarian recipes

Cooking this also reminded me why I’ve been leaning more into vegetarian dishes lately. It’s not really about cutting anything out—it’s more about paying attention to what’s already there.

You start to notice how much flavor you can build with things like mushrooms, onions, herbs, and spices. And yeah, there are the obvious health upsides, but for me it’s more about how these recipes feel. They’re often a little lighter, a little more intentional.

There’s also something to be said for the environmental side of it. Without getting too deep into it, plant-based meals just tend to ask a little less of everything—water, resources, all of it. And if it still tastes this good, it’s kind of an easy choice.

Why this one sticks

At the end of it, this soup fits into that category of recipes that do more than just feed you. It’s tied to a place, a way of cooking, and now, at least a little bit, to my own kitchen.

Making it is straightforward, but it still feels like you’re part of something bigger. From taking a minute to clean the mushrooms properly to that moment when everything comes together and the kitchen smells like paprika and butter—it all adds up.

And that’s kind of the whole point for me. Not just making something that tastes good, but making something that feels like it came from somewhere.

The Recipe: Moosewood’s Take on Hungarian Mushroom Soup

With all that in mind, this is Moosewood’s take on Hungarian mushroom soup—creamy, comforting, and packed with the kind of flavor that doesn’t need much explaining once you taste it.

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Recipes Recommended was inspired by collecting handwritten recipes, usually from friends and family. It’s a tradition in many families for parents to pass along recipes to their children and also teach them how to cook and feed their families. My mom was teaching me throughout her whole life. Growing up, I always assumed that she wrote all of the recipes she made for us. When I got older and thought back on it, I quickly realized that my mom collected recipes from all over the place. Nowadays, if I see a recipe on the back of a box or in a magazine that I really want to try, I’ll write it down in one of my recipe notebooks. I think the following recipe may be just like that.

Grandma Sue

I have a good friend, Dustin, and when I told him about our new blog and how we are making recommended recipes and sharing our thoughts, he was happy to ask his grandma, Sue, for her Pea Salad recipe. She married her husband six months after meeting him on a blind date when she was 16, then traveled around while he was in the Navy. Eventually, she and her husband settled down on Vashon Island, Washington, to start a family. Dustin recalls having this salad at all big family gatherings and holidays. Grandma Sue was married for 49 years and cooked every meal in the house except breakfast for Dustin’s Grandpa. If this recipe is the one that stood out, we’re happy to make it!

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Of the ingredients that don’t typically jump to the front of the line when I’m developing recipes, seasoned salts are one. Let’s be clear, there is nothing wrong with using them, and I don’t want to come off as snobby by recommending making your own dry spice blends. You just don’t have as much control over what the blends are made of and they may contain added artificial colors. Additionally, seasoned salts and other blends tend to be old and may have been on your grocery store’s shelf for much longer than you would think. Here’s a recipe to make your own seasoned salt:

That being said, a bunch of recipes from my parents’ generation and earlier aren’t what they are today. My mother and father were both Baby Boomers and grew up eating more food from cans than I did. They also saw the advent of convenience cooking like TV dinners. It was a different time, and it’s always a good idea to keep that in mind when you’re reviewing a new recipe. Rest assured, I do draw a line and will never share a recipe starting with boxed rice or pasta requiring a helper.

Pea Salad that has it all

Dustin texted me a picture of the recipe given to him by Sue. I love handwritten recipes and like to think that she’s had it for many years; the paper stained by past meals made following this recipe like many of my own cookbooks. I am quickly realizing that handwritten recipes are often in shorthand, for the person who wrote it down. This pea salad recipe needed a little bit of cleaning up as the ingredient amounts and steps were lacking. I was immediately curious about exactly how much 5 bacon was, and also I knew I was going to convert the dried herbs amounts to fresh, which is typically 3 to 1 fresh to dry. And finally, I knew that 1/8 cup of sliced green onion was far too little, so I upped that amount to twice that.

Here is how we cleaned it up:

YourTube Short Here!

So how was it?

I had tempered expectations, which wasn’t fair. I looked at the amount of salt and was nervous that the herb’s flavor would be completely lost, but I was wrong. Finishing the salad with crumbled bacon reminded me of salad bars -- don’t let Lisa get started talking about how much she loves salad bars and any restaurant that still has them. There was a lot of texture, crunchy water chestnuts and bacon, creaminess from the dressing, and the peas being the undeniable star. Usually, peas taste muddy and mealy to me. Not here. They were bright and complemented the other components amazingly well. The seasoning was a little salty, but nowhere near what I was fearing. I think we honored the original recipe with the addition of fresh herbs and we’d be happy to make this again. It would be perfect for a picnic or, as Dustin’s family enjoyed it, during holidays.

I love how simple this recipe is. Lisa asked her mom if she had any pea salad recipes, so we could compare them, and Kim, Lisa’s mom, told her that she thought it was a pretty common recipe, which may have been included on the back of a frozen bag of peas or maybe a jar of mayonnaise. Be that as it may, it stuck with Sue, and she wrote it down. Dustin has fond memories, and now I’m here writing about my experience with it. Regardless of its origin, I’m happy to have been a part of its history.

I was a little embarrassed to tell my wife, Lisa that I had never made a soufflé. After thinking about it for a minute, that feeling left me and we chuckled about how often we would see tv shows or movies from our childhood, where soufflés were presented as this mythically impossible thing which only the best of the best cooks could pull off. We were told that the slightest sounds or heavy footsteps could make a soufflé fall. God forbid you even think about looking at a soufflé while it’s cooking; the glance alone would probably make it explode. It’s so weird that soufflés showed up so frequently. The scenario was always something like a father who needs to land a promotion or finalize a deal will invite his boss or client to his house for dinner - that’s pretty weird also, but shows are limited by their sets, I suppose. During the dinner, the father or whoever will be tasked to make a soufflé to really impress the guest. Sometimes the trope is that it’s overheard that the guest loves soufflé or simply that if the cook is able to make a perfect soufflé, the guest will absolutely have to give the promotion or agree to the big deal. Without fail, the soufflé falls because of some series of wacky close-calls; sometimes it’s kids running around or maybe the family dog opens the oven door and ruins everything. You can take a breath though, everything works out. The promotion is given, and the deal is struck in the end. The soufflé, it will turn out, had nothing to do with the decision at all. Phew... It did still stick with me, and subconsciously I steered away from making one. Until now.

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A friend of our family, Louise, reached out to us to recommend a recipe she enjoyed while growing up. Her mother, Carolyn, would bake cheese soufflé for breakfast or lunch occasionally in a 5-cup ramekin. She would serve it with sautéed ham steak and something green. I shuddered a little at the idea of cooking a soufflé, but knew that I needed to overcome this lifelong fear of mine and pull off the Band-Aid. I had all of the ingredients, and Lisa and I set a time to film us making it. I wasn’t going to back out.

When I am recommended a recipe, I always try to follow it to the letter, and then if I make it again, I’ll make some changes. I did some research and although there are many recipes for cheese soufflé, there were two main changes which I decided to make as they differed wildly from the original. The first is the temperature. I don’t own a 5-cup soufflé ramekin, but I do own a lot of 1-cup ramekins. That adjustment was easy to make and didn’t betray the recipe at all in my opinion. The second change is the temperature and time to bake. The original called for 300 degrees for 1 hour. 100 percent of the recipes I read called for a temperature of 375 and to bake for about half the time. I settled at 22 minutes for my smaller soufflés as that was the time for that amount in several recipes I found. Lastly, I added a small amount of cream of tartar to the egg whites, also an element in every recipe I researched. It keeps the egg whites stiff.

We were ready to cook, and my nerves were still pretty high. Luckily, I read that the soufflé batter will keep for a while when refrigerated. If the first attempt failed, I’d have another crack at it.

The list of ingredients is super basic. You’ve cooked with them forever, but this recipe calls for a couple of techniques which aren’t the most common. Because soufflés are known for their cloud-like fluffiness, the batter requires whipped egg whites. You need to first separate the yolks from the whites, and despite everything you’ve seen and read about the process, there’s a much easier way. I’m not saying my technique is foreign to the cooking universe, just easier. Just like the romanticized versions of soufflés you’ve watched like me, you’ve most likely been told to crack your egg and to move the whites and yolk back and forth, letting the whites dribble into a bowl beneath until you are left with a yolk. Although yolks are more durable than you think, I’m always afraid that a jagged eggshell is going to pierce it and I’ll have to start over. The simple solution is to just use your hands. Make sure they’re clean and crack your eggs, one at a time into your palm. Let the whites run through your slightly open fingers, and after moving back and forth between your hands a couple of times, you’re left with perfectly separated yolks. Even if you prefer the other method, mine usually does a more efficient job.

The next steps for making the batter are straightforward. You need to make a roux and add milk and cheddar cheese. There are many variations to the cheese, and it’s definitely a place where you can put your own spin on it. I’d recommend cheeses like Gruyère or Swiss. Adding chives or some other herbs would also be delightful. Right after adding the egg yolks to the batter, we whipped the whites with the cream of tartar. We used a hand mixer, and it took about three minutes. We then gently folded it into the batter, creating a fluffy pillow-like mixture. We were ready to face what we were dreading - time to bake our soufflés.

After spraying our ramekins with cooking spray, we lined up half on a small baking sheet. Following the recipe, we poured in the batter, leaving about half an inch from the lip of the ramekins. Then I took a breath, held Lisa’s hand, said a little prayer, and popped the soufflés into a preheated oven.

About halfway through the cooking, we turned on the light and to our delight, saw what I can only describe as angelic. Domes of pale yellow, reaching to the heavens from their cooking vessels. Keeping in mind that we didn’t have much time to take pictures before the soufflés would deflate, I told Lisa that she had 2 minutes max.

I think I got the promotion, and I am certain that I landed the big deal with my clients, and the best part is that the soufflés were delicious.

I really hope you enjoy this recipe, and if you take anything away from this, I want it to be, let go of silly fears when you’re cooking. You’re going to fail a lot. But you’re also going to have a lot of success. I think this recipe reminded me of that. Life is too short to worry about falling soufflés.

RECIPE

Looking, as I often do for inspiration, I gravitated again to one of my mom’s recipe binders. They’ve been around for almost 40 years now, and some of the plastic protective pages where she would store her clipped and taped-together pages from food magazines are starting to fall apart. As if yanked by the hand of my mom, a recipe slipped out of its disintegrating three-hole plastic pocket and fell literally into my lap. Staring up at me was a picture of what looked like beef and peaches, swimming in a beige sauce with bits of who-knows-what, resting on maybe the ugliest plate you could choose for taking a picture. It was just a terrible shot, but it got me to look closer to identify what the heck I was looking at. I think the recipe was clipped from a Bon Appétit magazine, but there isn’t an indication anywhere, so I’m only guessing. Pork with Calvados and Apple Cider. As I was reading this, it was the beginning of October, and the air was starting to get cooler here in the Pacific Northwest. There’s a demarcation to the seasons, and to me, it’s always been about what food I’m enjoying and also when weekly farmers’ markets start to disappear. Apples are plentiful here, and I love utilizing them in ways other than just snacking on them. I have two small children, and they get homemade applesauce and applesauce-based food often. So, seeing a way to cook apples that weren’t headed for a pie made me super interested.

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Poaching pears is one of my favorite things to impress non-cooks with. A go-to fancy dinner I would make for people when they wanted to help in the kitchen was some cut of pork, usually a bone-in chop with pears braised in red wine and finished with blue cheese, which I put under the broiler for probably a little too long. It was the first cooking I did where I relied wholly on instinct and commonly held complimentary flavors and textures. I didn’t reference a dozen recipes as I do now. I was a bohemian behind the stove, drinking terrible wine with my friends, and I was happy. I still make variations of this concoction, but with my better knowledge and technique, it’s probably about 5% better. Although, there is certainly a lot of value in winging it and dancing with your friends to great music while letting things go in the oven or stove for just a little too long.

Glancing over this new recipe made me think of how I used to cook, and also how I was maybe a little less uptight about every detail. As fate would have it, I had all the ingredients I needed, including Calvados, an apple brandy from the Normandy region of France. I had it for another recipe I made maybe a year ago. I hadn’t pulled it out of my booze cabinet since, other than to show it to people. At the time of writing this blog, I’ve made the recipe three times and will probably need to get more soon. The rest of the ingredients are what I usually have around anyway, maybe with the rare exception of when I don’t have whipping cream. I was ready to go the same day I found this recipe, maybe a couple of hours later. I used and have since used them two more times, Cosmic Crisp apples instead of Golden Delicious apples. In the corresponding video we shot, I mention that some varieties of apples didn’t exist back when my mom saved this recipe. I know that when she passed away, she regularly enjoyed Honeycrisps, which I remember still amazed her with how sweet they are. The recipe asks for the addition of sugar when browning in butter, but like I said, the apples I’ve used are so sweet and have such a high sugar content, I didn’t go overboard. Rest assured, everything worked out just fine.

I really love one element, maybe more than any other, in this recipe, and that’s how the pork tenderloin is prepared. Almost exclusively, I only cook my pork tenderloins whole. It never dawned on me that it’s the perfect candidate for cutting into portions and pounding into thin medallions. My brain immediately went to German cooking and schnitzel but on a much smaller scale. It is so simple and makes so much sense. Also, because the surface area of the meat is much bigger, the pan sauce we make with the brown bits left over is even better.

I know it sounds a little bonkers, but the prep for this fancy French meal takes longer than the actual cooking. All told, I think I started cooking around five o’clock and had the kids in their seats before six to eat. Peeling apples, mincing the shallots, and stripping the thyme leaves was really the biggest time sink. Cutting the pork and pounding it took less than five minutes. I served this with egg noodles, mostly because my small children can’t resist them, but also it just seemed like that’s what my mom would have done. I’m sure some red potatoes would also be nice, and the skin would add a nice contrast. This one is definitely a candidate for one of those “dance in the kitchen with a bad bottle of wine and let your friends help” kind of recipes. I also don’t think you can screw it up. The French were onto something when they decided to cook everything with tons of butter and heavy cream. Add a little brandy, and now you’re talking.

I always love picturing people from long ago, in far less modern kitchens developing these dishes. For this one, I was picturing some 90-year-old French apple farmer with his granddaughter, slowly cooking slices of apples until they turned golden, while they thickened up a cream sauce, which he fortified with the apple brandy he made from last year’s harvest. It warms my heart so much. It reminds me why I love cooking so much and why cooking for my family is what I live for. I hope you also remember to have fun and to spend time with people you love—bad bottle of wine with the accompanying dance party or not.

When I was a lot younger, in fourth grade, to be exact, my family took my sister and me to Paradise Island, an island in the Bahamas connected to the country’s capital, Nassau, by a very long bridge. It seemed like it took an hour for us to cross. The whole time, I was mesmerized by palm trees laden with green coconuts and crystal-clear blue water where you could see the ocean floor. Awaiting us was a hotel named the Ocean Club. This hotel holds a very special place in my family, and although I haven’t returned since I was young, my sister Gretchen and her husband, Bill, have spent important anniversaries there, as has my father. Although it took me a day to get over homesickness, I soon fell under the spell of this enchanting locale. Spending the days on the beach and at the pool, ordering wildly expensive cheeseburgers and Coca-Colas which had pull tabs, Gretchen and I did what normal kids did: we got red as lobsters, swam, and hunted for sea life until the sun went down. At night, my parents would leave us in the hotel room with free HBO while they went off to dine at one of the amazing local restaurants. What I didn’t know is that a few days in, we were able to join them at their favorite restaurant, Café Martinique. I think it’s still there, but it has moved to the mega-luxury hotel, Atlantis, on the same island.

When we arrived, the maître d’, a giant of a man named Boy—yes, that was his real name—in a booming voice, greeted my father by his first name as they had been friends for a lifetime. In my estimation, Boy was about 8 feet tall and shook my hand as though I was an adult, and not a 10-year-old boy, something which wasn’t lost on me. We were then escorted through an elegant dining room to a table next to a window facing the beautiful marina. It’s hard to believe that I have such a vivid memory of this so many years later, but what really struck me, and why my life has followed the path it has, came about 30 minutes later.

The first course came, and my father had a hearts of palm salad, slathered in some mustard-based sauce, while my mother had shrimp in an even more rich cognac and cream concoction. I remember the herbs and garlic touching parts of my tongue which had been dormant until that moment. Finally, our entrées arrived, and as my father was apt to do, he smiled with eager anticipation while I raised my fork to my mouth. The Chateaubriand I was sharing with him just looked like steak, but the moment I tasted it I was forever changed. Do you know what this is? my father asked. Still savoring my bite of food with wide eyes, I shook my head. He said, that’s Béarnaise sauce, and this is why I brought you here. Everything in my life had changed at that exact moment. I asked my mom, is there a special cook who makes this? To that, she told me about the saucier and how there are many different cooks who all work together to make meals in fancier restaurants. It’s hard to explain how I felt after that, but it was as though the veil had been lifted from my eyes, and I had clarity, as limited as it could be for my early life, but it stuck with me.

I like telling this story because not only is it true, but it’s something I think fondly of periodically when I get stuck in the mire of uninspired meals I’m planning for the next few days. I love to share new flavors and food history with my family and friends, and how and why I love to cook. We are beginning to plan out a series of Mother Sauces and also some basic ones over the next few months. Béarnaise Sauce, or Sauce Béarnaise if you’re fancy, is a derivation of Hollandaise sauce, one of the major Mother Sauces. It’s made by incorporating a reduction of white wine, shallots, black peppercorns, and tarragon to Hollandaise. It’s typically an accompaniment to steaks, delicate fish, and vegetables like asparagus. It’s sublime. Béarnaise would be considered a Daughter, or child sauce to Hollandaise. There are several other familiar Mother Sauces such as Béchamel, Velouté, Espagnole, and Tomato. We will cover them all here soon.

But there are other very important sauces we see a lot, and one we made a video on not long ago is Beurre Blanc. Like many French dishes, it relies heavily on butter and is just as much the star of the meal as whatever protein or vegetable you’re serving with it. I’d venture to guess you’ll remember the sauce more. You’ve likely seen it and probably had it yourself on occasion. It’s a butter and wine sauce, hence Beurre (Butter) Blanc (White, for the wine). It’s simple, elegant, and fast. Once you master it, you’ll have the confidence to get out of your comfort zone and start making those seemingly impossible dishes you’ve only seen in movies and cooking shows.

Perhaps the simple, less noticed things like sauces and accompaniments are all it’ll take for you to have that same wide-eyed epiphany that I had. Below is our recipe:

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When my mother, Loralee, passed away, she left behind a bunch of binders full of handwritten recipes, as well as other food magazine and newspaper clippings. Although when I was young and not very interested in cooking beyond microwaving a Hot Pocket when I got home from school, I do have very fond memories of my mom cooking dinner for my family most nights. I appreciate the fact that she tried her hardest to not get stuck in the cycle of making the same meals over and over. Sometimes there were winners, and sometimes there were nights where Mom felt like trying out a new recipe from our local newspaper. Of course, there were the fads and bizarre entrées by today’s standards. But the effort she put in, without the oohs and ahhhs I would happily give today, was a lot more impressive than I gave her credit for; it was just every day for a high schooler like me. And I had no idea what kind of impact it would have on me, leading me eventually to culinary school.

Don’t get me wrong, my mother was by no means a master chef. She did, however, have courage in the kitchen where most people don’t. She didn’t fear trying new ingredients and definitely didn’t shy away from serving them to me and my sister. My mother was also a pack rat when it came to recipes. This was a time when there was no internet and computers were barely more than word processors. So, she, along with what I imagine are a lot of people of the time who cooked for their families, kept all of her recipes collected in multiple three-ring binders. One I have actually came from Bon Appétit magazine. I like to think she mailed away for it, using proof of purchase, or she won it in some raffle at the PTA.

My father was a lawyer, and one thing you could always count on was to find a yellow legal pad in half the rooms in our house. Of the recipes I leafed through in the first couple of days of having my mom’s binders, I ran across a recipe for Cheese Strata on a sheet of yellow legal pad paper. It’s not a recipe I have a strong nostalgic bond with, but rather her beautiful handwriting and the familial connection of the yellow paper I felt. I talked with my wife, Lisa, and she suggested that we make this one first as a recipe we recommend to you. Funny thing though, when I talked to my sister, she let me know it was her recipe, taken in part from Martha Stewart and that my mom just really liked it. I think you will, too.

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Welcome!

Hello! If this is the first time you’ve visited us, or found us through our other channels, welcome to Recipes Recommended. My name is Andrew, and we are a husband and wife team who were inspired by our own family recipes, my background in cooking and my wife, Lisa’s amazing photography, to create a community to all share stories, recipes and become better cooks. We dive into a lot of our favorites, as well as friend’s and families recipes and see what makes them so great.

Why this matters to us

I have a cooking background of over 20 years, and have worked in several restaurants. Lisa has been a photographer just as long. After my mother passed away, I received her binders of recipes and magazine and newspaper clippings, spanning decades. I was brought down memory lane, and with my cooking expertise, decided to recreate some of the recipes, while telling a story. After sharing this with some friends and family members, they also shared some of their heirlooms, and we decided to document it on a YouTube channel.

Recipes Recommended YouTube Channel

Our Growing Community

Not only are we sharing recipes and stories, but also some really clear cooking fundamentals. Our very first video, which admittedly wasn’t great, was on how to make some fool-proof hardboiled (steamed) eggs. It’s a technique I learned a long time ago, and thought it would be a great resource. You can find over 50 videos over on our YouTube channel.

What we really want to do is grow and learn with you. Hearing other people’s stories means the world to us. Some of the best and longest lasting memories start in the kitchen and dinner table.

Why here?

We had an official website to go along with Recipes Recommended, but decided that for the time being, Substack would be a much cleaner, and easier place to keep our recipes and blog posts. We may eventually go back to having a traditional Food Blogging site, but for the time being, this is how we’re going to share everything with you!

Your first taste

Our first recipe to share here, is one I’ve edited from Americas Test Kitchen - Baked Jalapeño Poppers. I use a lot of their recipes because I love them, and they always share a lot of the nitty gritty on why things work. This is just a recipe we cook often, so it makes sense to add. Lisa puts her heart and soul into editing our videos, and they always make me look like a far better cook than I am. You can check it out here:

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