Potato salad season opens today! Here are 5 you'll love

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By Leslie Brenner

Today is the official unofficial season opener for summer’s most craveable side dish — the underdog show-stealer of every picnic or potluck. We can all pretend we can do without it, and then boom! A great potato salad blindsides us with deliciousness.

Here are five — three American, and two Japanese-style — that will round out your celebrations from now through Labor Day. (And probably beyond!)

Why Japanese-style? Because potato salad is a delicious example of yoshoku — Western dishes that migrated to Japan in the late 19th century and became truly Japanese. There’s something truly fabulous about this particular yoshuku fusion; Japanese flavors really make potatoes sing.

1. Herb-Happy Potato Salad

Herb-happy potato salad

Red potatoes, red wine vinaigrette and either shallots or scallions come together under a flurry of fresh, soft herbs with this light, quick potato salad that’s a snap to make.

2. Salaryman Potato Salad

Salaryman Potato Salad: Each portion of the Japanese potato salad gets topped with half an ajitama marinated egg

Salaryman Potato Salad: Each portion of the Japanese potato salad gets topped with half an ajitama marinated egg

Mayonnaise-based and built on russets, this cucumber-laced Japanese potato salad gets umami from HonDashi (instant dashi powder — a secret weapon of many a Japanese chef). Each portion is topped with half an ajitama, the delicious (and easy-to-make) marinated egg that often garnishes ramen. We fell in love with the salad at Salaryman, Justin Holt’s erstwhile ramen house in Dallas, and chef Holt was kind enough to share the recipe.

3. Jubilee Country-Style Potato Salad

Old-fashioned American potato salad, prepared from a recipe adapted from ‘Jubilee’ by Toni Tipton-Martin

When I came upon this recipe in Toni Tipton-Martin’s award-winning book, Jubilee: Recipes from Two Centuries of African American Cooking, it was so luscious it sent me into a potato-salad binge that went on for weeks. Eggy, mayonnaise-y and old-fashioned (in a good way!), it reminds me of the potato salad my mom used to make. Try not to eat the whole bowl.

4. Sonoko Sakai’s Potato Salada

Potato Salada (Japanese potato salad), prepared from a recipe in ‘Japanese Home Cooking,’ by Sonoko Sakai

For a different style of Japanese potato salad, try Sonoko Sakai’s “Potato Salada” from her award-winning book, Japanese Home Cooking. It’s dressed with homemade Japanese mayo and nerigoma (Japanese-style tahini), but sometimes we cheat and use Kewpie mayo (our favorite brand of commercial Japanese mayonnaise) and store-bought tahini. We love the carrots, green beans and cukes in this one!

5. Best Potato Salad Ever

Best Potato Salad Ever is made with a new-wave gribiche.

I cringe a little every time I see the moniker of this bad boy, which I named before discovering Toni Tipton-Martin’s, Justin Holt’s or Sonoko Sakai’s. Still, I do think Best Potato Salad Ever is worthy of at least tying for the title. The secret to its wonderfulness is New Wave Sauce Gribiche — soft-boiled eggs tossed with chopped herbs, capers, cornichons and shallots, plus Champagne vinegar, lemon juice and Dijon mustard. How could you go wrong, right?

Have an excellent, potato-salad-filled Memorial Day weekend!

Recipe for Today: Heading toward the weekend, we’re thinking endless guacamole

Guacamole, made the traditional way — with the same ingredients Diana Kennedy used in her recipe in ‘The Cuisines of Mexico,’ but in different proportions

By Leslie Brenner

Is there anything more festive than a molcajete filled with guacamole? As a party-starter — whether it’s a party of two or twenty — it can’t be beat.

Our friends who garden seem to all have cilantro that’s gardening at the moment, and its delicate lacy blossoms make the nicest garnish, if you can get them.

Of course you’ll need ripe avocados, which is why we’re talking about this now. Memorial Day weekend — summer’s unofficial kickoff — is just about here, and if you grab a few avocados that are not quite ripe, you can put ‘em in a paper bag and they’ll be ready to smash just when you need them.

Whether your Memorial Day festivities skew toward carne asada or burgers on the grill, or even a fabulous vegan mixed grill, you don’t need to overthink the party-starter. Haven’t made plans? Mash up some guac, tear open a bag of chips and invite a friend. See? The party’s here.

Recipe for Today: Try Mely Martínez's Chicken Veracruz-Style for a vivacious weeknight lift

Pollo alla Veracruzana, or Chicken Veracruz-Style, prepared from a recipe in ‘The Mexican Home Kitchen’ by Mely Martínez

By Leslie Brenner

One of our favorite recipes from Mely Martinez’s delightful cookbook, The Mexican Home Kitchen, this easy weeknight dish gets its verve from a tomato sauce revved up with pimento-stuffed olives, raisins and capers. That combo may sound unlikely if you’re not familiar with the flavors of Veracruz, but give it a try anyway — we think you’ll be surprised and delighted.

Martínez’s original calls for fresh tomatoes, but you can substitute a can of chopped ones if you’re not finding nice ripe ones yet.

Enjoy your Recipe for Today!

If you like Recipe for Today, please share it on your social channels or email it to a friend who will enjoy it. Thank you!

Recipe for Today: Ginger, garlic, fish and greens in parchment takes us to our happy place

Halibut with garlic, ginger and baby bok choy roasted in parchment, from ‘Vietnamese Food Any Day’ by Andrea Nguyen. A wide range of types of fish can be used in the dish.

By Leslie Brenner

How does this sound: a dish that’s light, easy and quick to prepare, that features whatever fish looks best in the market, that’s super healthy and creates no mess to clean up? And what if it’s not only perfect for a weeknight, but so delicious and lovely to behold that you’d happily present it to someone you truly wanted to impress?

Well, that’s how we felt too, the first time we made the gingery halibut parcels from Andrea Nguyen’s Vietnamese Food Any Day. To achieve it, toss sliced baby bok choy in sesame oil, set a portion’s worth on a sheet of parchment, top with fish (the award-winning author suggests halibut or salmon), spoon onto it a quick sauce of ginger, garlic, oyster sauce, soy and a touch of oil and seasoning, scatter on slices of scallion, wrap it up, and slide it into the oven. Fourteen minutes later you have something wonderful.

How wonderful? I’ve made it four times in the last six weeks. It’s crazy that this simple combo of ingredients turns into something this delightful; the whole is much more than the sum of its parts on this one. Every fish I’ve used so far — halibut, petrale sole and striped bass — cooked perfectly in that package. In that 14 minutes the bok choy achieves ideal texture, the flavors all come together and the sauce envelops all in gingery, umamiful happiness. Salmon will be next. Or scallops. Or snapper.

I like to serve it with brown rice, spooned right onto the parchment to mingle with the sauce; jasmine rice is wonderful with it as well, and gets to the table much quicker.

Enjoy your Recipe for Today!

If you like Recipe for Today, please share it on your social channels or email it to a friend who will enjoy it. Thank you!

Recipe for Today: The Greenest Gazpacho

Our recipe for green gazpacho (the greenest!), vegan and gluten-free, tangy and craveable.

By Leslie Brenner

Cucumbers, celery, green bell peppers, parsley and a serrano give this green gazpacho its gorgeous color. Raw almonds or cashews add body, and sherry vinegar provides zing and olive oil (use your best, freshest one) makes it silky and deep.

Because there is no bread in it, it is not technically a gazpacho, but that vinegar-and-nut vibe definitely makes it eat like one — not the vibrant tomatoey kind that’s the word “gazpacho” usually brings to mind, but its cousin ajo blanco, or white gazpacho. (Ajo blanco, beloved in its birthplace of Málaga, Spain, is made with bread, garlic, almonds, salt and sherry vinegar — and in summer, garnished with green grapes.)

Our Greenest Gazpacho is just the thing for a meatless Monday. (It’s vegan! And gluten-free!) It’ll keep you cool and happy all through the summer.

Recipe for Today: Asparagus, all dressed up!

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By Leslie Brenner

We have a new feature at Cooks Without Borders: our Recipe for Today. Every morning, the green announcement bar at the top of all our pages offers a link to something that sounds delicious to us that day: Recipe for Today!

It’ll be right for the season, holiday-appropriate if something’s going on, and keyed to whether it’s a weekday or weekend.

As often as we can manage, we’ll also feature it in a quickie story, like this one.

Asparagus with a new-wave gribiche is one of our favorite ways to celebrate spring. It’s great for a weekend brunch, a picnic in the park, a dinner with friends, a potluck or even a festive celebration. The New Wave Gribiche in our recipe is inspired by L.A. chef (Gjelina, Gjusta) Travis Lett’s modern take on classic French sauce gribiche, made with eggs, capers, cornichons, herbs, shallots and other good things.

Enjoy your Recipe for Today!

If you enjoy Recipe for Today, please share it on your social channels or email it to a friend who will like it. Thank you!

Family gift from the Great Confinement: the perfect, easy roast chicken

Perfect easy roast chicken with crispy, brown skin. Our recipe requires no basting, no flipping and no advance preparation.

Perfect easy roast chicken with crispy, brown skin. Our recipe requires no basting, no flipping and no advance preparation.

By Leslie Brenner

Yesterday was bittersweet. Wylie, my 24 year-old son and partner-in-cooking during The Great Confinement, finished packing up his silver Honda Fit, took one last look around to see what he left behind (inoperable culinary blowtorch, heavy suede jacket, melancholy parents) and — with his girlfriend Nathalie in the passenger seat — hit the road for California.

It’s a scene that’s been happening all across the country during recent weeks, apparently, as life begins to return to normal. Whatever that was.

The reasons for the bitter part of bittersweet are obvious. The sweet part is my feeling of gratefulness for the time we all had together — Wylie was with us during the entire pandemic.

I can’t exactly say that while Wylie was here I taught him to cook. That started long ago. He asked for a crepe pan for his birthday when he was, I think, seven. He spent the last year of his time in college in Los Angeles wowing his housemates with Santa Maria barbecues or giant pans of baked ziti.

But when he rejoined us a year and a half ago to regroup post-college and embark on a job search, he still had a lot to learn — as we all do. I’m pretty sure that’s when I taught him how to deglaze a pan, though he’ll probably dispute that. I definitely taught him to make corn tortillas and miso soup, soufflés and Chinese dumplings.

What I can say is that while he was here, Wylie grew up culinarily. Cooking nearly every meal during the year of confinement allowed both of us to fully immerse ourselves in the kitchen.

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Of course for me there was (and always will be) plenty to learn as well. We both learned from cookbooks, videos and websites, along with conversations with cooks — Monish Gujral in India, who taught us about murgh makhani (butter chicken, which his grandfather invented); An-My Lê in New York, my brilliant photographer-friend and home cook who taught us about bánh xèo (sizzling crepes) and pho ga; Yuyee Sakpanichkul here in Dallas, the chef-owner of Ka-Tip, who talked me through the way to build a Thai curry.

What surprised me most in all this was how much I learned from Wylie. He’s a quick study, and when he wanted to master a dish, he dove headlong into it — watching chef videos, reading websites (always seeing what Kenji had to say at Serious Eats), consulting cookbooks. Most of what he wanted to learn was French (Thomas Keller became one of his faves) or meat-centric. (Kenji, in case your internet has been out for the last few years, is J. Kenji López-Alt; his fans call him Kenji.) Yet Wylie is seldom satisfied that his teachers have shown him the best way. He absorbs their wisdom, and then pushes forward, questioning assumptions, making improvements. (I suppose the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree; that constant tweaking and evolution is the animating ethos of Cooks Without Borders.) 

One of the most useful things I learned from Wylie is his take on roast chicken. I had taught him everything I know on the subject, beginning with the late Judy Rodgers’ method of salting the bird a day or two before you want to roast, air-drying the skin, then tucking fresh herbs between skin and flesh and roasting simply in a skillet in a very hot oven. No need to baste, but you flip it twice. The result is an exquisite bird with wonderfully crisp skin. He tried that, tried Thomas’ Keller’s wet-brine method, which he was sure would be better (it wasn’t), tried CWB’s viral rendition of Lucky Peach’s lacquered roast chicken (impressed, but he tweaked the glaze). He tried other versions, too. We invested in a stove-top rotisserie, which makes a fabulous and very easy bird, but fixing the chicken on the rotisserie axle is a bit of a headache, and the thing can only accommodate birds smaller than three pounds, which aren’t easy to find.

After a year or so of experimenting, Wylie had settled into his preferred method. He feels salting ahead of time is best, but more often than not, when we want a roast chicken, we want it right now. One day, I suggested trying to pick up a supermarket roast chicken, something Wylie’s father and I used to do all the time when I was working at an office, and Wylie scoffed. “It’s just as easy to roast our own,” he said, “and so much better.”

Wylie’s solution to lack of time to salt and air-dry is hilarious: He pats the bird dry, sets it on a rack on a sheet pan and puts the pan on the floor with a small Vornado fan pointed at it for a half hour or so. Very effective! Then he finely chops a lot of thyme, distributes it between skin and flesh (sometimes suspended in butter), seasons inside and out, puts a whole lemon in the cavity and roasts — very simply. He uses Judy Rodgers’ basic method, heating a dry skillet on the stove, then setting the bird on it breast-up (at which point it makes a terrible loud farting sound!), and immediately putting it in a very hot oven.

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Unlike Rodgers, however, Wylie doesn’t flip the bird. Rodgers’ method calls for turning it breast-down after 20 minutes, then flipping it back breast-up for the last five or ten to crisp the skin back up. Wylie doesn’t believe that there’s much (if anything) to gain with the flip, and certainly not worth the risk of the breast skin tearing in the process. He wants that perfect, crisp, browned skin.

After having eaten an adulthood’s worth of Judy birds and a year’s worth of Wylie birds, I daresay he’s right.

Last night, hours after he and Nathalie drove off, I needed roast chicken. Had Wylie been here, he would have insisted on roasting the chicken himself. Instead, I channeled him, with edits. 

As I started putting it together, I realized that I finally had something I’d long been seeking: the best streamlined way to roast a chicken with minimum effort and maximum impact.

The Perfect Easy Roast Chicken, resting after its 50-minute, no-basting, no flipping stay in the oven

The Perfect Easy Roast Chicken, resting after its 50-minute, no-basting, no flipping stay in the oven

Busy all day, I hadn’t thought of taking the bird from the fridge and letting it come to room temp. No matter. I rinsed it and patted it dry, tucked some thyme under its skin and salted it inside and out. Pepper on the outside, too. I tied its ankles together, heated a skillet, plopped down that bird, and shoved it in the oven, set at 450. Our ridiculous smoke alarm went off three times (though the kitchen was not smoky), making us curse and miss Wylie. I pulled out the chicken and took its temperature in the thickest part of the thigh, which the experts always tell you to do: 190 degrees — overdone!  How was that possible after just 40 minutes?

And then a lightbulb went off, and I finally understood that the thickest-part-of-the-thigh dictum is wrong. How many times have we pulled out the bird when thickest part registered more than 165, let it rest, carved it, and found that next to the bone, it was underdone.

So instead I inserted the thermometer next to the drumstick bone: 145. Not done. Back in went the chicken for another 10 minutes, I took the temp in the same place, and got 165.

Out came the chicken to rest — resplendent in its golden-brown skin. I made a little pan-sauce, having minced a shallot finely enough to meet Wylie’s exacting standards. (I used to be sloppier.)

I carved the bird, missing Wylie’s sharp carving knife. (He built an impressive knife collection while here.) We dined, Thierry sipping a glass of rosé, me sipping fizzy water, having reclaimed our two old accustomed places at the table for dining à deux. We toasted Wylie and Nathalie — and the adventure they’d driven off into.

And the chicken? It was perfect.

Introducing Makers, Shakers & Mavens — Cooks Without Borders' live, interactive video event series (it’s free!)

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We’re kicking off our new free live event series with two grain revolution superstars

By Leslie Brenner

Are you a baker — or a cook who cares about sustainability, flavor and health? Do you have a sourdough baking habit? Are you interested in heirloom and heritage grains?

If so, you’ll want to join us for an exciting live video Q & A event:

Makers, Shakers and Mavens: The Grain Revolution with Roxana Jullapat and David Kaisel
Thursday, May 27, 3 p.m. PST, 5 p.m. CST, 6 p.m. EST 

Join Juliet Jacobson and me as we talk about ancient, heirloom and artisan grains with two important leaders in the grain movement. David Kaisel is the founder and owner of one of the country's top artisan mills: Capay Mills in Northern California. Roxana Jullapat is the renowned Los Angeles baker and co-owner of Friends and Family, and author of the just-published cookbook Mother Grains. Attendance is free (limited to 100 people), and we know you’ll want to be there with your questions for Jullapat and Kaisel. 

Cooks Without Borders Makers, Shakers and Mavens: The Grain Revolution with Roxana Jullapat and David Kaisel
Thursday, May 27, 3 p.m. PST, 5 p.m. CST, 6 p.m. EST 

Treat yourself to a copy of Jullapat’s fabulous book in advance of the event. Here is our review of the cookbook, with links to purchase. Want to test-drive a recipe or two first? The review includes those as well.

Sign up now to reserve your spot!

The Grain Revolution event is part of our new series of live Q & A events with fascinating experts in the food world, Makers, Shakers and Mavens.

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Want to be notified about future events? Sign up for our free newsletter — which also sends free recipes to your inbox.

Make hummus, not war: In the face of unspeakable destruction in Gaza, show solidarity through cooking

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By Leslie Brenner

The humanitarian catastrophe that is devastating Gaza — which began with Israeli police preventing Palestinians from gathering near one of East Jerusalem’s ancient city gates during the holy month of Ramadan — is tragic, outrageous, and needs to stop.

For an American of Jewish descent who deplores the actions of Israel’s far-right-wing government, the feelings of shame, outrage and powerlessness can be overwhelming.

What can we do from thousands of miles away, besides plead for a cease-fire? We can support the civilians of Gaza by thinking about them as people. By learning about them, and trying to understand Palestinians and their plight.

Even before the current waves of bombs and rockets, the territory was suffering mightily: According to a United Nations report published last year, it has the “world’s highest unemployment rate,” with more than half its population living below the poverty line. Now more than 200 people there have been killed, including at least 61 children.

As a cook, it’s hard not to think immediately about Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi, who wrote their incredible cookbook Jerusalem together and published it a decade ago. And about Tamimi and Tara Wigley, who published Falastin last year, celebrating the cooking of Palestine. (Ottolenghi wrote the foreword, explaining that with Falastin, Tamimi and Wigley “picked up the baton where it was left after Jerusalem.”)

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Though saying so feels woefully inadequate for the moment, peace begins with understanding. If you don’t know anything about Palestinians, get your hands on the book. Plan a dinner of Chicken Musakhan, Palestine’s national dish. Read about the people, their culture of tahini, the way they make bread. Watch Tara Wigley talking with Cooks Without Borders about her experiences traveling and researching in Palestine for the book.

Meanwhile, make hummus — now, or tonight. Brilliant in its simplicity, it’s a dip enjoyed by Palestinians and Israelis alike. (And don’t forget that there are legions of Israelis who are against what their government is doing, just as legions of Americans deplored anti-human American policies like permanently separating families coming across our borders.) You can use dried chick peas, for the Ultimate Hummus, or use canned ones for a pretty great Cheater Version. Make your own pita bread (khobz in Arabic), or pick some up at Trader Joe’s.

Protest on a plate. Empathy, in a dip.

Cookbook Review: Roxana Jullapat's 'Mother Grains' has all the makings of a new classic

‘Mother Grains: Recipes for the Grain Revolution,’ by Roxana Jullapat. Jullapat is the renowned baker and co-owner of Friends & Family in Los Angeles.

By Leslie Brenner

Mother Grains: Recipes for the Grain Revolution, by Roxana Jullapat; photography by Kristin Teig, 2021, W. W. Norton & Company, $40.

As we begin to break through to the liberation side of The Great Confinement, finding the silver linings of what we’re leaving behind feels like a sunny way to try to make sense of the world and what we’ve been through.

One of those silver linings is that as a society, we seem more able to take some control of our food choices, and we are moving on from long-held assumptions about the foods available to us. Sourdough obsession illustrates that in microcosm. People couldn’t get great bread. They dove in, devoted themselves to the science and feeding of sourdough, to the baking of bread, and figured it out. It has been transformative for many.

Related to that phenomenon is a new interest in grains: where they come from (geographically and historically), who farms them, how they’re milled and how supporting, purchasing, baking or cooking with and eating them can improve lives all around and in many ways.

I’m not a frequent bread baker, but when I do make my occasional no-knead, Dutch-oven number, it is always whole grain. During pandemic I became hooked on the heritage flours offered by a local(ish) miller, Barton Springs Mill. Outside of baking, I also became obsessed with the heirloom corn sold by Masienda, the Los Angeles-based purveyor that sources its dried corn (and masa harina made from it) from small-scale farms in Mexico. That has been life-changing for me, as I no longer have to settle for tortillas made from commodity corn and bread made from commodity flour. The flavors and textures I’m enjoying are so much better — as is the way I feel about supporting the farmers and millers who make it all possible.

Both Barton Springs Mill and Masienda are part of a larger “grain revolution” — which is the subject of Roxana Jullapat’s outstanding new cookbook, Mother Grains.

Spelt Blueberry Muffins with streusel topping, from Roxana Jullapat’s ‘Mother Grains.’

Spelt Blueberry Muffins with streusel topping, from Roxana Jullapat’s ‘Mother Grains.’

Jullapat, the renowned baker and co-owner of Friends & Family in Los Angeles, became inspired by the grain farmers and small mills whose products she worked with back when she and her husband, chef Daniel Mattern, had a restaurant called Cooks County (it opened in 2011). “I began using whole grains in our breads and pastries and, for the first time, paid attention to how these new ingredients could transform the way I baked,” she writes in the introduction.

Born in Orange County, CA to immigrant parents — a Thai mother and Costa Rican father — Jullapat lost her mother when she was just two years old; her father moved the family to Costa Rica and remarried. She grew up there, then studied journalism in college, contemplated grad school after getting her degree, but wound up returning to California and attending the Southern California School of Culinary Arts. There she met Mattern, and they both wound up working at Campanile, Nancy Silverton and Mark Peel’s celebrated restaurant. Jullapat went on to serve as pastry chef at two other wonderful restaurants — Lucques and A.O.C. (Mattern was chef de cuisine at A.O.C.)

After she and Mattern closed Cooks County in 2015, Jullapat took two years to experiment with heirloom grains from all over the United States and around the world — and to travel. “I went to Bhutan,” she writes, “where I tasted Himalayan crepes thin and thick and sampled earthy Bhutanese red rice. Then I headed to Turkey, where whole ancient wheat berries are common in savory dishes . . . . Back in Costa Rica, I discovered heirloom blue corn grown organically in the northern region of Nicoya.” Between trips, she visited Southern California farms that were leading the local grain movement.

The book offers a wealth of knowledge about the eight ancient “mother grains” that inspired the title: barley; buckwheat; corn; oats; rice; rye; sorghum and wheat. Did you know that rye is a newer grain — only 2,000 or 3,000 years old — and that it originated in Anatolia, near modern-day Turkey? That it thrives in cold, damp climates, which is why it’s ubiquitous in Scandinavia, Russia and Eastern Europe? Or that buckwheat is a pseudograin, like quinoa, which means it comes not from a grass but from a leafy, flowering bush?

Did you know that flour — especially whole-grain flour — is perishable, and that purchasing from artisan mills or local distributors is a great way to ensure freshness?

Spelt, I learned from the book, is probably the best-known “ancient” wheat, the one Jullapat considers a “gateway” for bakers starting to explore ancient grains. (Other ancient wheats are einkorn, emmer, also known as farro, khorasan wheat and durum.)

Want to discover spelt’s charms? Treat yourself to Jullapat’s Spelt Blueberry Muffins. I did, and they turned out to be far-and-away the best blueberry muffins I’ve ever tasted.

In fact, Jullapat’s recipes are generally spectacular — which is why I think her book deserves to become a classic. I’ve marked dozens of pages of recipes I want to try, and nearly all of the seven I’ve made so far have been exceptional.

The Macadamia Brown Butter Blondies that Jullapat has baked “every day since opening Friends & Family opened in 2017” are a case in point. Brown butter and barley flour give them a wonderful depth, but don’t worry — they’re rich and decadent enough to charm all comers, including kids.

Macadamia Brown Butter Blondies, from ‘Mother Grains’ by Roxana Jullapat. Jullapat writes that she has baked them ‘every day since opening Friends & Family in 2017.’

Macadamia Brown Butter Blondies, from ‘Mother Grains’ by Roxana Jullapat. Jullapat writes that she has baked them ‘every day since opening Friends & Family in 2017.’

They’re baked in a round cake pan, “ensuring that each piece has a chewy, toasted exterior and a soft center.” Jullapat points out that because they’re so easy to make, they keep for a few days and they travel well, “they’re an ideal homemade gift you can ship to friends and family all over the country.”

Not all the recipes are sweet. In fact one of my favorites is a savory: Buckwheat Blini with Dungeness Crab Salad.

Blini, as you may or may not know, are leavened pancakes that are traditional in Russia. There, they’re topped with sour cream or melted butter and treats like smoked salmon, whitefish, herring or caviar. According to Anya von Bremzen, author of Mastering the Art of Soviet Cooking, blini are saucer-sized, “never cocktail-sized, and these days people prefer wheat to the archaic buckwheat.”

That’s fodder for another story, one about blini culture. In any case, I so loved the archaic buckwheat mini-blini in Jullapat’s book that I’ve made them twice in two weeks. Or maybe we could say four times: Her recipe makes enough batter for about 3 dozen blini, and both times I made them, I saved some of the batter to cook blini the following day. They’re so good — and so much fun to make — that I’m contemplating making them again tomorrow.

On the subject of the topping, Jullapat suggests that if you’re not a West Coaster, and don’t have access to Dungeness crab, using whatever is locally available. I used defrosted frozen lump blue crab, and that was fine, but I know it would be spectacular with Dungeness. I have also topped these with a smear of crème fraîche and a bit of smoked salmon or smoked trout, a squeeze of lemon and a sprig of dill or snip of chive. So good.

Buckwheat blini with crab salad, avocado and dill, from Roxana Jullapat’s ‘Mother Grains’

Buckwheat blini with crab salad, avocado and dill, from Roxana Jullapat’s ‘Mother Grains’

We do need to end with a sweet though, and Mother Grains’ Chocolate Dynamite Cookies are winners. Called “dynamite” because of Jullapat’s observation that they elicit explosively positive reactions in those who try them, the fudgy, brownie-like cookies are wheat-free (made with dark rye flour) and completely whole grain. Pretty astonishing for something that tastes so indulgent. Jullapat promises that if you make them, you’ll be invited to “every potluck, picnic and dinner party.” I’m sure she’s right!

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I did have a small problem with them the first time I baked them, though I can’t exactly say that it’s the recipe’s fault. The cookies turned out as wonderfully as promised, but I lost my favorite Oxo mixing bowl in the process, thanks to some quirk of physics in which a vacuum was created by the chocolate-melting set-up Jullapat prescribed. I had to throw away that bowl and the pot to which it became permanently and irrevocably adhered. My adaptation won’t get you into that quandary, because I tweaked the melting method, substituting one favored by chocolate expert Alice Medrich.

I also tweaked the mixing instructions for cooks who, like me, do not own a stand mixer, but have a hand-held mixer instead.

Which brings me to the one small wish I have for the book. Because I’d like it to stay in print forever — finding a wide audience and passionate fans — I’m hoping that a future edition will get a fresh round of closer editing than it got the first time around. Among the 7 recipes I tested, nearly all lacked helpful info — particularly about what size bowls to use for various tasks — requiring more guesswork and/or extra dishes to wash than is ideal in a classic cookbook.

There is also a significant error in the book — of the sort an attentive editor or copy editor should have caught. A recipe for Vegan Pozole Verde calls for “2 cups, or 170 g.” of dried hominy. In my kitchen, 2 cups of dried hominy weighs more like 300 g., while 170 grams is 1 generous cup. I prepared the pozole using 170 g. rather than 2 cups, which was the right guess.

In any case, these are small flaws, easy to fix on the next go-round, should that come to pass. The important thing is Mother Grains is a wonderful book, one whose surface I have barely scratched. There are so many more things I want to try: Nectarine and Blackberry Crisp made with rolled oats. Grapple (grape and apple) Pie made with Sonora Wheat Pie Dough. Semolina Cookies with Fennel Pollen. Oatmeal Date Cookies. Crepes Suzette with Blood Orange and Mascarpone.

I could go on and on.

Want in on the deliciousness? Try one or more of the recipes we’ve adapted here at CWB. If you love them as much as we do you’ll want to buy Mother Grains lickety-split.

But wait; there’s more! You’re invited to join us as we host Roxana Jullapat, along with our favorite artisan miller, David Kaisel — founder of Capay Mills in Northern California — at a live video event, part of our new Cooks Without Borders Makers, Shakers and Mavens Q & A series. Attendance is free (limited to 100 people), and we know you’ll want to be there with your questions for Jullapat and Kaisel.

Cooks Without Borders Makers, Shakers and Mavens: The Grain Revolution with Roxana Jullapat and David Kaisel
Thursday, May 27, 3 p.m. PST, 5 p.m. CST, 6 p.m. EST

Sign up now to reserve your spot!

Last-minute gifts for moms who love to cook: Exciting new cookbooks, cookware and more

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By Leslie Brenner

Don’t worry; there’s still time to nab a great gift for mom — even if it’s Sunday, just before brunch.

The Cooks Without Borders Cookshop has lots of things she’d love, and that Amazon may still be able to get to your door in time. CWB Gift Premium Memberships can be hers at the push of a button (they’re on sale!). And we’ve got a zillion delicious things you could cook for her.

Buy mom a cookbook

Consider a great new cookbook — like Roxana Jullapat’s Mother Grains. Jullapat, baker and co-owner of Friends & Family in Los Angeles, shows us deliciously how to make whole grains a delicious part of baking. In the pages of her fabulous book, you’ll find spectacular recipes using ancient grains, heritage grains and artisan grains, including a few we’ve fallen hard for. We’re working on a review (to be published soon!), but we can tell you that it’ll be a rave. And you can make a batch of Jullapat’s Spelt Blueberry Muffins — topped with spelt streusel — to serve on Mother’s Day when you hand her the gift book.

Cookware that goes stylishly to the table

Or how about a Dansk Kobenstyle casserole? Dansk is enjoying a serious moment of chic — so much that the lifesytle website Food52 just bought the whole company. It’s available in delicious colors (for some reason they’re all priced differently). You can get a lovely 2-quart yellow one real quick for $92.

Give the gift of CWB Premium Membership

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It’s late, and we feel you! That’s why we’ve put Gift Premium Membership to Cooks Without Borders on sale through this weekend. Save 25% and mom will enjoy a year of monthly HotPot e-magazine, weekly HotLinks what-to-cook-now newsletters, admission for herself and three friends to monthly live Culture-Dive Q & A events with fascinating people in the food world (on May 27 we’re hosting Roxana Jullapat and David Kaisel, owner of Capay Mills), monthly Simmer Sessions, a downloadable copy of our e-cookbook and more. Perks are outlined here.

Find more at the CWB Cookshop

None of these sound quite right? Take a quick spin through our Cookshop — you’re sure to find something there your mother will love. For instance, the red Thermapen you see is on sale for 25% off as well — as are all Thermapen products if you enter the Thermapen shot through a link on Cooks Without Borders.

Make mom something delicious

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Maybe a quiche Lorraine? Our version is quintessential.

[RECIPE: Quintessential Quiche Lorraine]

Want to see a menu of other dishes instead? Here you go.

Whether you are a mother, or have a mother, or used to have a mother or want to be a mother, we wish you a happy Mother’s Day — and a great weekend.

Bring on the bayos: Showing some love for Mexico's creamy, dreamy other bean — and its kissin’ cousin mayocoba

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By Leslie Brenner

I’m no stranger to Mexican cooking.

I’ve been making my own tortillas for 35 years. I’ve nixtamalized corn in my kitchen, travel frequently in Mexico, keep chicatanas — flying ants from Oaxaca — in my fridge.

But somehow, until recently, I had never stepped back and thought much about Mexico’s geographic bean divide. I’d completely missed out on the fact that there’s another bean — the bayo — that’s way up there in popularity with the two biggies that are much better known in the United States, pinto and frijol negro (black beans).

Here’s the insane thing: Bayo beans are even better than pintos, and they cook up in about half the time. You can usually have bayos on the table in about an hour. Yes, starting from dried beans, and no soaking necessary. With lovely flavor, they’re creamier than pintos, glorious when cooked simply and eaten with their broth, and much easier to turn into fabulous frijoles refritos. I used to stress over making refritos, finding them difficult to master and long to manage. Now I make frijoles refritos — a delicious and easy vegan version, no less — in no-time flat.

In conjunction with recent new masa upgrades, my bayo awakening is life-changing, truly, and I’m going to share all of it with you.

But first you’ll have to understand the beans to buy — and why this remarkable bean is called by a confusing assortment of names. I’ll simplify it best as I can. The names I want you to remember are bayo, mayocoba and peruana.

[Would you rather go straight to the recipe? Here you go.]

The top row of this display at a Fiesta Mart in Dallas, TX shows the great Mexican geographic bean divide — though we wish the peruanas, aka mayocobas (and used interchangeably with bayos) were in the middle. In any case, the country’s three most po…

The top row of this display at a Fiesta Mart in Dallas, TX shows the great Mexican geographic bean divide — though we wish the peruanas, aka mayocobas (and used interchangeably with bayos) were in the middle. In any case, the country’s three most popular bean types are graphically represented.

OK, let’s back up. I’ve long understood that the most widely-used beans in the southern parts of Mexico are frijoles negros. I’ve tasted how they’re a way of life all over the Yucatán peninsula and in Oaxaca. They’re the beans on the right-hand side of the supermarket display shown in the photo above.

Yet I always thought the rest of Mexico was pinto bean country. (Frijol pinto is shown in the top row center of the photo.)

Funny what’s left out of the bright yellow-and-blue “great deal” sign in front of the bean display at my local Fiesta Mart: the peruanas (also known as mayocobas) you can see on the upper left. Why are we talking about peruanas/mayocobas? Because while they are not technically a bayo bean, they’re so similar to bayos that they’re used pretty much interchangeably by many people.

Oddly, not a lot has been written on Anglophile websites or in English-language cookbooks on Mexico’s other bean-type, or on Mexico’s bean preference by region. In their chapters on beans, my favorite Mexican cookbook authors (Enrique Olvera, Diana Kennedy, Gabriela Cámara) inevitably begin by rhapsodizing about heirloom varieties, but never get around to talking about what kind of beans regular, non-gastronomic types eat on a daily basis in various parts of the country.

“Although there are many varieties of beans in Mexico,” writes another favorite author, Mely Martínez, in The Mexican Home Kitchen, “black beans and pinto beans are the most popular. I always have both in my pantry, and recommend you do the same.” 

But here’s the way Larousse Cocina MX, the website of Larousse Diccionario Encyclopédico de la Gastronomía Mexicana, characterizes the bayo bean (my translation):

“The bean is one of the most used in the country, especially in the Distrito Federal and in other central states.”

The Distrito Federal, of course, is Mexico City. What does Larousse Cocina MX say about mayocobas? It doesn’t even have an entry. Nor does it for frijol peruana.

Larousse’s frijol bayo entry was sent to me by CWB’s resident Mexican cooking expert, Olivia Lopez, who was the first person who opened my eyes about the bayo. Until she mentioned it as her bean of choice for frijoles refritros, I’d never even heard of the bayo bean. Olivia comes, not incidentally, from Colima, a coastal state in that middle part of the country.

What I’ve been able to gather only recently is that pintos are king bean only in the north, including in the regions that border the United States. Between the pintos in the north and the frijoles negros in the south, there is the vast middle: bayo country.

I asked Mely Martinéz (also a friend of Cooks Without Borders) for clarification.

“Frijol bayo is more common in Central Mexico but also in the north,” Mely wrote in a text. “Pinto beans are popular in the far north, and are sometimes labeled bayo, even though they are pinto beans.”

In general, she added, people use the term frijol bayo to describe any of the light-colored beans that turn brown when they cook:

“Even though they could be from another variety. There are other two types of beans in the same color that are very popular in the west coast of Mexico. They are the flor de mayo, which has some pink hues, and the mayocoba, also know as peruano. This last one is a light yellowish beige. With a very creamy texture.”

— Mely Martínez

Mayocoba beans cooking in a pot with epazote, onion and garlic. Also known as peruanas, canarios or bayos, the beans cook up quickly to delicious creaminess.

Mayocoba beans cooking in a pot with epazote, onion and garlic. Also known as peruanas, canarios or bayos, the beans cook up quickly to delicious creaminess.

OK, so bayo is often used generically.

Here, in that case, is my (abridged) translation of the full Larousse Cocina MX entry for bayo beans:

“Frijol bayo (Phaseolus vulgaris)

“A bean variety that comes in shades from light coffee brown to dark coffee brown. Types include acerado, apetito, blanco, garrapato, gordo, grullo, jarocho, maduro, mexicano, panza de puerco, parraleño, perlita rata and zavaleta. Bayos are eaten in many ways: boiled, fried, pounded, and as a filling. The bean is one of the most used in the country, especially in the Distrito Federal and in other central states. In many regions it is used as a substitute for other beans. The bean is found in various colors; the most important types are canela claro, canelo oscuro, rebocero, vaquita and, especially, flor de mayo. The latter is widely used in the Federal District and other central states of the country; in fact, many people maintain that it has the best flavor of all bayos. Flor de mayo tends to be pink in color, but when cooked it becomes light brown. It is also known as a brown bean.”

The more research I did, the more confused I became. Once I started getting the sense that the middle of the country was bayo country, I texted my friend Regino Rojas, a Dallas-based chef who hails from Michoán (in the middle of the country!). “Regino,” I texted, “do you think it would be correct to say that pintos are the most popular bean in the north of Mexico, frijoles negros are most popular in the south, and bayos are the most popular in central Mexico? What's most popular in Michoacán?”

“The most common in my region of Michoacán is mayocoba, also called frijol peruano,” he answered. (The then launched into a hilarious diatribe against Tex-Mex refried pinto beans, but that’s another story.)

Aha! Frijoles mayocobas or peruanos (also called canarios, or canary beans) are one of those light beans that turn brown when cooked that Mely mentioned.

Bean bulk bin number three at a Fiesta Mart in Dallas, TX, offering mayocoba beans. Other bins hold pintos and black beans.

Bean bulk bin number three at a Fiesta Mart in Dallas, TX, offering mayocoba beans. Other bins hold pintos and black beans.

This explains why, at my local Fiesta Mart, there are big bulk bins of exactly three beans: frijol negro, frijol pinto and frijol mayocoba. Mayocoba stands in for bayo: a light-colored bean that turns brown when it cooks.

(Just to geek out for a moment, both bayo beans and mayocobas are Phaseolus vulgaris. But then so are pintos, so that’s not much help.)

OK. I know what you’re thinking. Why don’t you get Steve Sando, the heirloom bean maven who has been profiled in the New Yorker, and whose Rancho Gordo heirloom bean company became one of the hottest food destinations on the web during the pandemic, to weigh in? And why aren’t you telling us about heirloom bayos?

For the record, I have an email out to Sando; hopefully he’ll respond (and I’ll continue trying to reach him). Meanwhile, I just ordered a couple pounds of heirloom mayocobas from Rancho Gordo; it’ll take some time to for them to get to me. I didn’t find any other heirloom bayos on the Rancho Gordo site, but I did find some beautiful-seeming heirloom bayos from another California concern I just turned up: Chili Smith Family Foods. I just ordered four pounds, and will put a call out to them as well, to see what I can learn. (So stay tuned: Hopeful more bean-news will be coming to these pages.)

Well, that’s a lot to digest. And no doubt you want to know how to cook these bad boys.

It’s very simple. Rinse them well and sort them. Put them in a pot with some onion (white, preferably, but not importantly), a couple of slices or half an onion still intact. Throw in four or five cloves of peeled garlic. Cover the beans with three or four inches of water. Bring to a boil and let boil 10 minutes. Turn down to a simmer, cover, and let cook — tasting along the way — until the beans are, as Contramar chef Gabriela Cámara describes it in My Mexico City Kitchen, “custardy.”

In fact, the headnote for her recipe for Frijoles Aguados (Soupy Beans), is one of the best things I’ve read about cooking Mexican beans:

“You need to pay attention and use your senses to guide you when you’re cooking dried beans, because the secret to making really good beans is finding that elusive sweet spot between over- and under-cooking them. A few minutes too long and their skins will split, and they will fall apart. But if you take them off the stove prematurely, they will taste chalky and bland. I’m against the current trend of undercooking beans. The better a bean is cooked, the more complex the flavor. When testing a cooked bean for doneness, bite it and make sure there is no resistance. Once they’re custardy, turn off the heat and let them cool in their broth.”

— Gabriela Cámara, My Mexico City Kitchen

If you want to get fancy, you can toss in some dried oregano or marjoram, or a few toasted dried avocado leaves when you start cooking (toast them on a dry, hot skillet just until fragrant). That’s what Pujol chef Enrique Olvera suggests in his cookbook Tu Casa Mi Casa; Cámara does as well. They impart a beautiful, anise-like scent. Alternatively, you can add fresh epazote (Cámara adds a sprig at the beginning; Olvera uses a whole bunch, but waits till the beans are nearly finished cooking to add them.)

But these are really fine points. Even without any herbs, they will cook up beautifully.

Here are two basic recipes, one for frijoles de olla, another for turning them into refried beans. In the coming days, we’ll be publishing a couple of exciting recipes using the refried bayos, so do check back!

RECIPE: Bayo Beans (Frijoles de Olla II)
RECIPE: Refried Bayo or Mayocoba Beans

And finally, here is a visual guide to Mexico’s beans annotated by Lesley Téllez. It’s from a 2010 post on her excellent website, The Mija Chronicles.