Hello to my Big Crüe,

As we hurl ourselves headlong into the heart of June and solstice weekend, we enter no-cook season o’clock. One must have balance: when the weather is hot, the foods ought not. (This claim is not actually backed by science, but as this is not a medical journal, I won’t be stopped.)

The category is dominated by what I’ll refer to as Dinner Salad, which gives us broad leeway for interpretation. To quote Elaine: it’s a salad, only bigger, with stuff in it. Aside from being served cool to room temperature, this is a dinner based on a formula, not rules.

Here’s how to game the formula.

Dinner Salad is dominated by produce, and has few—if any—cooked elements. The day Cosmo was born, September 10, 2009, I asked for a gigantic bowl of cut-up watermelon, seasoned with a little flaky salt, and I ate that in bed, with him on my chest. That counts. Aside from lettuces (below), the kinds of produce I want to find in my dinner salads include: tomatoes; cucumbers; green beans and wax beans (even better if blanched for a minute or two); shaved raw crunchy things like radishes, beets, kohlrabi, jicama, sweet peppers; and even broccoli and cauliflower.

Like most things, Dinner Salad is more fun when you add cheese. The feta in a Greek salad is a perfect example. I could have added feta or halloumi to my birth day bowl of watermelon, along with some olive oil, and that would have made it more salad-y. Shaved Parm, nuggets of cheddar, coarsely grated provolone or Jack, slices of Manchego, even pieces of a bloomy-rind cheese like Humboldt Fog can (and should!) end up in Dinner Salad.

Dinner Salads are champions of protein. That could come in the form of cheese, or any number of things you probably have in the house right now: canned chickpeas; cooked lentils; edamame; rotisserie chicken; leftover steak; crisp bacon; hard-boiled or jammy eggs; jarred or canned tuna; cooked salmon; smoked fish; hard salami.

Dinner Salads signal their umbrella category by featuring leafy things, especially the sturdier ones that can handle the addition of stuff. I’m thinking romaine, radicchio, endive, Little Gems, red- and green-leaf lettuce, cabbage. Though not sturdy at all, fluffy whimsical herbs are fabulous in dinner salads, so throw your basil, parsley, chives, cilantro, perilla, and mint in there, too.

Which of these would you consider a Dinner Salad? Tabbouleh. Grain salad. Antipasto Salad. Caprese salad. Cobb Salad. Vitello Tonnato. Dense Bean Salad (!!). Fattoush. Burrito Bowl. Kachumber.

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We love a carb in Dinner Salad, whether it’s in the form of a crouton, a cooked grain, a loaf of baguette for tearing, or a piece of Carole’s Fried Bread on the side.

Finally: the dressing. If you have olive oil and any acidic ingredient (literally any type of vinegar, pickle liquid, or lemon juice) you have dressing.

That said: Nutritional Yeast Vinaigrette is the best dressing in the entire world.

One of my favorite kinds of Dinner Salad is something we call “picnic dinner,” which isn’t even an assembled salad, it’s just a suggestive arrangement of things.

For this scenario, you get to dip the ingredients rather than tossing them with dressing. On a night like that, the only “cooking” required of you is to whisk together aioli, which is good on most foods, and can be doctored this way or that depending on how you like it (make it spicy with chile flakes or chile oil, stir in capers to go with fish, add anchovy paste to go to funky town, etc).

You can be intentional about this, as in the recipe for Aioli and All the Things for Dipping, below, or make it a fridge clean-out situation. Whatever you do, STAY COOL.

xoCarla

We’ll be deeply engaged in salad chat this week, and it would be way more fun if you were there.

Aioli and All the Things for Dipping is posted below for paid subscribers, in both PDF and plain text formats.

Thank you for being here <3

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Hello to My Vintage Vixens,

Welcome back to Recipe Osmosis—the column where chefs and authors I admire share their desert-island vintage cookbook picks.

This week, we hear from Ben Lippett. As a chef and recipe developer, Ben has a passion for helping cooks feel confident about creating show-stopping and comforting meals at home. If you’re not already subscribed to his newsletter, this is your sign.

Ben’s vintage cookbook pick is Fish by Sophie Grigson & William Black (1998).

This newsletter runs on paid subscriptions. Your support goes directly into my work creating new recipes and writing about food, and sharing all of that here.

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Here’s What Ben Has to Say:

As a young cook, I pinched Fish off my parent’s shelf. Both of them are great cooks and have a thoughtfully curated selection of very useful books (see: Simon Hopkinson’s Roast Chicken & Other Stories1, Nigella’s How To Eat etc). I think what initially brought me to this book was the cover—it’s a masterpiece.

Fish is an exhaustive guide to fish and seafood, covering how to buy, prepare, cook, and eat them well. My sun-faded, worn-out old copy is a prized possession and a book I regularly reach for if I need inspiration or a technique refresher.

A cookbook should always nourish the reader in more ways than one. In the kitchen I’ve always been drawn to simpler things; I had a brief spell with fine dining that proved to me that plates with a million painstakingly tweezered, superfluous components are just not my cup of tea. This is a shining example that gifts you not only great recipes, but also classic techniques and a wealth of valuable knowledge.

Take one look at this book and you’ll understand that every page, every word is essential; it’s all killer no filler.

I strongly advocate for bridging the gap between professional and home kitchens, and equipping home cooks with the tools and techniques professional chefs use daily. Ultimately, cooking isn’t particularly hard; the difficulty lies in the sheer volume and time professional chefs must execute it in. Buying a nice piece of fish and cooking it with a simple garnish can and should be done by the home cook, and it’s books like this that really show you how.

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Fish aren’t free, but this post sure is!

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Cooking fish and seafood has always brought me great pleasure and I owe a good chunk of it to this book. The scallop and black pudding salad, gambas pil pil, and crab cocktail are all great examples of utterly delicious, perfect seafood recipes rooted in the classics. I hope one day, to write a book that is as useful as this (and has as good a cover!!!!)

Well, I’m sold! Want to cook fish like Ben?

Pick up a vintage copy of Fish here.

You can shop Ben’s book How I Cook (2025) at his website, and watch him at work on YouTube.

You know what the color scheme on Ben’s book makes me think of??? GO KNICKS! GO KNICKS! GO KNICKS!

xox,

Carla

I made a video showing how you can navigate and utilize the Spin It search tool that I launched a couple of weeks ago. I wanted you to see it in action! It’s cool! You can easily search for ingredient swaps, or get inspiration for what to cook with ingredients you already have on hand.

I also went over some cuisine-specific ingredients (such as harissa or Sriracha) and talked about how swapping one for another might complicate a dish, or not!

If you’ve already gotten your paws on this thing, let me know how it’s going.

xoxCarla

Scrubbing each one of my recipes to create this database, and the additional work that went into building, designing, and editing the tool took (human!) time and (my actual!) money. To access and use it, please become a paid subscriber.

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Hello to My Seafaring Sailors!

I got back to Brooklyn over the weekend after about a week and a half out of town, and, man—was everything green!! I was in northwest Connecticut (with my mom, kids, and sister’s fam) most of the time, and also spent a couple days with friends in southeast VT, and I’m telling you—the entire landscape was an glittering emerald wall.

I like this particular, deep green—not the bright but yellow-tinged green of early spring, and not the golden-edged matte green of late summer. No. This is a robust green that reeks of youth, vitality, promise, and opportunity. Seedling green, put-the-screens-in the-windows-green, why-is-there-a-bumblebee-in-the-kitchen green, not-too-late-for-potted-plants green. Anyway, loved it.

Let’s all pretend we have synesthesia for a sec: this week’s recipe is that color, but soup. (And if you do have synesthesia—that’s so cool.) It’s a simple combo of shrimp and quick-cooking cod (Spin Its are at the bottom of the doc), suspended in a subtly spicy cilantro broth, along with creamy potatoes. Simple, but swoon-worthy. If you can get your hands on true new potatoes, they’d be amaze.

Though I called it a stew, this is light and bright, pretty much the inverse of a cold-weather chowder, and cooks start to finish in a little under an hour.

During development, I learned that the cold leftovers were weirdly delicious. Green gazpacho energy. So, there’s that.

Manhattan chowder, New England, or neither?

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Here’s the video, from one of the first episodes of Carla’s Cooking Show.

GO KNICKS,

xoxCarla

The recipe for Spicy Seafood Stew is posted below for paid subscribers.

The majority of my income comes from paid subscriptions to this newsletter, and your support funnels directly into my work researching and developing recipes, testing equipment, and writing about all of it.

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Hello to My Spaghetti Segues,

In culinary school, I learned about the “mother sauces.” They were all Euro-derived, like hollandaise and beurre blanc, and they were all intended to accompany a finished dish.

Aglio e olio (garlic and oil) is an inversion of that approach. While it is definitely a sauce for pasta, it is also a cooking medium, a foundational flavor, and something you can build upon and use to create entirely new dishes.

The majority of my income comes from paid subscriptions to this newsletter, and your support funnels directly into my work researching and developing recipes, testing equipment, and writing about all of it.

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In the most bare-bones application of aglio e olio, the (very) al dente pasta finishes cooking in the garlic-oil mixture, where the pasta absorbs the sauce and is enveloped in sauce. As you add other ingredients to this formula, they become flavored, and they add flavor, which, frankly, changes everything.

For example, you can use your pasta water to par-cook broccoli pieces, then add them straight into the garlic mixture. Now you’ve opened up an estuary of flavor—the sweet vegetal qualities of the broccoli change the flavor of the foundation, and the luscious garlicky oil gets sucked into the florets. When you toss and mix the pasta into that situation, the broccoli may break into smaller bits, which thicken the sauce, and everything can then Become One.

Dishes in the above grid, left to right, top to bottom:

1. Spaghetti with Bottarga and Breadcrumbs

2. One Bunch of Kale for One Person Pasta

3. Broccoli Pasta Deluxe

4. The Lalli Family’s Spaghetti and Clams

5. Spaghetti with Melted Cauliflower Sauce

6. Spaghetti Aglio e Olio

PDFs for all of these recipes are at the bottom of this post

If you’ve spent any time with my recipes, videos, or newly-launched Spin It tool, you can guess where I’m going next. If broccoli works, then the whole dang cruciferous family can get involved. Cauliflower, cabbage, broccolini, broccoli rabe, and romanesco share broccoli’s physical attributes; those conversions are very 1:1. Expand the circle wider and net leafy greens from the same family: all types of kale; escarole; mustard greens; collards; and turnip greens can be blanched in the same water you’ll use for the pasta and added right to the sauce.

Tender greens that are delicious raw, such as arugula, Swiss chard, spinach, and watercress, can go straight into the sauce when you add the pasta; they need hardly any time to warm through and wilt. Tender green beans, fresh favas, English peas, even shelled edamame can replace a leafy green. Spring is a perfect time to make artichoke pasta—yep, it starts exactly the same way. And on and on. (Start playing around by clicking the button below.)

Dream it into being.

Consider the base, as well. Sometimes I feel like adding some sliced shallot or leek along with the garlic. You could make it as spicy as you want with crushed red pepper flakes, or bring a more lemony heat with a bunch of freshly ground black pepper. Swap the oil for butter and you have the perfect pairing for a crispy mushroom pasta. This is a great time to deploy the Swiss chard stems you’ve been hoarding. (Oh I know you’ve been hoarding them.) Add anchovy fillets, or don’t! Stir in some grated bottarga to go straight to the Riviera! Throw a handful of cherry tomatoes in there, then littleneck clams, and now you’re making spaghetti with clams! Add shrimp and cut the oil 50/50 with butter and you’re sitting down to spaghetti shrimp scampi.

The point is: these are all variations on aglio e olio, and each is a new dish. If you were a recipe developer, you could publish a new recipe every time you came up with a variation that worked and tasted good to you. I should know!

The ability to riff and cook without a recipe is one of the biggest and funnest flexes in a cook’s life. I hope this base technique and all the inspiration for spinning it gives you the confidence you need to do your own thing.

xox,

Carla

Recipe PDFs for the dishes in the Aglio e Olio Grid (above) are posted below for paid subscribers. Thank you for being here <3

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Hello to My Vintage Vixens,

Welcome back to Recipe Osmosis—the column where beloved chefs and authors share their desert-island vintage cookbook picks.

This week’s installment comes from Corre Larkin. Corre, aka Coco Larkin Cooks, has earned a devoted following for her approachable yet timeless cooking style, and her penchant for keeping demi-glace on hand. The recipes in her first cookbook, Season to Taste, are a fabulous collection of things you should know how to make and will inevitably love to eat: fricasees, ragus, roasts, and gravies. But more than that, they're dishes that will make you feel a certain way—cozy, comforted, and indulged.

To pre-order, head here!

Corre’s vintage pick is Cooking with Italian Grandmothers by Jessica Theroux (2010), a collection of time-honored family recipes from trusted nonnas. Corre turns to this book for the stories as much as the recipes.

This newsletter runs on paid subscriptions, and your support goes directly into my work creating recipes and videos, and sharing them here.

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Here’s What Corre Has to Say:

This is Cooking with Italian Grandmothers by Jessica Theroux. I bought this book when I moved back to southern California from London, and into our first apartment.

The author spent a month with each Grandma, and my favorite part of the book is the stories she collected during her time with them. She shares their narratives, recipes, and history, and gives you a glimpse into how the food they cook is borne from where they live.

The dishes are rustic and simple, yet delicious. It’s one of my favorite cookbooks ever and I love thumbing through the pages and revisiting the Nonna’s. I always find something new—it’s like an old friend who still has secrets to reveal.

While the recipes from Cooking with Italian Grandmothers are vintage, the book is still in print. Yay! Nab a copy here.

To pre-order a copy of Season to Taste (2026), click through here.

Happy trails this weekend, FP Family.

xox,

Carla

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The recipe and a deep dive on all of the techniques is here. A list of essential equipment is here.

xoxCarla

Hello Garlic Gang!

It’s Day Two of Aglio e Olio week. Yesterday I broke down the classic recipe and dug down on technique. Judging by some of the messages I got here and on Instagram, this dish has already landed on some of your dinner tables! Good Tools Make

Moving on to equipment. There are a few specific (but not uncommon) tools that I use to guarantee the sauciest, glossiest bowl of “iggly wiggly.” From the saucepan to the pasta bowl, you’ll rely on all of these on your way to aglio greatness and perfection.

The majority of my income comes from paid subscriptions to this newsletter, and there’s no bereavement leave for us self-employed folks. I’m hugely grateful for your support.

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What I keep in my toolkit:

1. Mise En Place Yakumi Pan For your garlic, chopped parsley, and Parm

2. Le Creuset 3.5-Qt. Stainess Steel Nonstick Saucier Pan The shape and dimensions are everything: deep enough to contain an entire pound of pasta, perfectly sloped for tossing, and heavy-bottomed, which lets you sizzle on low

3. Kaneko Kohyo Rinka Bowl I’ve been searching for a dupe for my rare, black, ceramic, vintage, beloved pasta bowls for a long time. These come close!

4. Goldilocks 10-Inch Skillet This is a good alt to the saucier pan (2), and a very hard-working sauté pan in general. You’ll have to toss a little less exuberantly.

5. Oxo Tongs For the tossing, the tossing, and the tossing. Some people turn up their noses at the coated tips, but I choose not to hear metal scrape against metal thankyouverymuch.

6. Kunz Sauce Spoon You worked hard on that sauce! Spoon it up nice

7. The Authentic Pasta Book (1989) by Fred Plotkin Formative book in my pasta-cooking education. Worked my way through it in college, still use it all the time.

8. Goldilocks 8-Qt. Stock Pot Everyone needs a pasta/soup/stew/steam/stock pot.

9. Staub Cast Iron 5.5-Qt. Dutch Oven Another great option for building the sauce. Affords lots of heat control for the garlic toasting, and plenty of room for the tossing.

Here’s a link to all of these tools in one place.

aglio e alley-oop!

xox,

Carla

Hello to My Iggly-Wigglies!1

At the risk of blowing up my own spot, today I’m sharing one of the most essential pasta techniques. This preparation is a dish in and of itself, and can be built upon to make dozens of other pasta dishes.

I’m talking about Aglio e Olio—literally garlic and oil.

We all know that the smell of garlic sizzling in olive oil is one of the great smells. In an essay about my olive oil bottle2 in That Sounds So Good, I wrote “It’s almost as if I’m not cooking unless I’ve doused olive oil all over the place,” and I stand by that. What happens when I grab that bottle is often aglio e olio. When you cook the garlic properly, and the oil is good, and the pasta and water are tossed and mixed and mixed and tossed with patience and intention, it is one of the greatest dishes in the world.

I like this dish best with a twirler: spaghetti, thick spaghetti, or spaghetti alla chitarra, but do whatever. Since it’s my Just-Got-Home-From-a-Trip dish, I’ll use what I find in the pantry. Aglio e olio is brainless, it’s ubiquitous, it’s meditative, and it’s fast. When my dad was in the hospital, it was all I made for days.

It’s also the most minimal of all the Working Girl Pastas; it’s on my Top Three Comfort Foods list; and it’s clutch for drungry late nights. In his hugely influential book, The Pasta Book, Fred Plotkin writes that “people seem to like to eat a great deal of this spaghetti while drinking lots of fresh young white wine.” (He suggests a Roman white or Orvieto.)

The majority of my income comes from paid subscriptions to this newsletter, and there’s no bereavement leave for us self-employed folks. If you’ve thought about signing up in the past, I’d be hugely grateful for your support now.

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If you break it down to the very first step—toasting the garlic in oil—aglio e olio is the foundation of countless staple pasta dishes: marinara, passata, pasta with lemon, pasta with greens, orecchiette with broccoli and sausage, arrabiata, linguine with clams, pasta with melted cauliflower sauce, puttanesca, pasta with tuna, pasta with crispy mushrooms … I could go on.

My ingredient interventions are few (we’ll get into the Spin Its later this week): I like to add freshly chopped parsley to the garlic and oil while they’re cooking, but I don’t add any parsley at the end. I spike the base of the sauce off-heat, and generously, with crushed red pepper flakes (this prevents the chiles from burning). I dig it with anchovies. I like it with Parm, so I add Parm, and if an Italian purist yells at me for that, I will agree with them in theory, and still add Parm.

A step-by-step video and the recipe are below. Technique-wise, nothing is hard, but if you screw any of this up, the dish is ruined.

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We made it! Memorial Day Weekend means road trip season is here. Having spent about an hour waiting for my turn at an EV charging station in the Bronx last night, I am not the only one on the open highway. (Cosmo and I got some excellent jerk chicken from a guy grilling on a split oil drum across the street, so we were just fiiiiine.)

In light of that, please enjoy this collection of recipes that hold up well if made ahead, can be packed and ported if driving or flying, and are just great to have around if you’re somewhere fun this (or any!) weekend.

This list includes two exclusive recipes that have never been published here!

Dozen-egg Frittata, which is best at room temp and also makes an amazing sandwich

Cold-Sliced Steak with Arugula and Parm, in which all the cooking happens at least a day in advance and the assembly is as simple as throwing some lettuces on a plate, slicing the steak, and drizzling everything with a Caesar-ish dressing.

Share this with your favorite backseat driver.

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Car-Bound Chefs Rejoice!

Here’s the Roundup (PDFs for all of these recipes are at the bottom of this post):

1. Salad Sandwich

It’s a salad. On a sandwich. Get those greens in while making sure you aren’t late to the family BBQ.

2. No-Stir Maple Granola

The ultimate hostess gift; the best car snack; cheaper than store-bought; and a deluxe pantry supply.

3. Grilled Veg Grain Salad with Herb Sauce and Feta

My favorite lunch for a day at the beach. This endlessly spinnable salad improves as it sits, as the dressing becomes one with the vegetables and the tender grains. No grill? Roast your veggies instead.

4. Dozen Egg Frittata (NEW!)

Easy, hands-off, protein packed. Great opportunity to Spin-It.

5. Carole Lalli’s Pizza Margherita Pasta Salad

When the mozz melts into the hot pasta … ugh. Simple perfection. At the risk of sounding cheesy, it’s summer in a bowl.

6. Cold Sliced Steak with Arugula and Parm (NEW!)

Hot take: Cold steak is the best steak.

Don’t forget to Spin It!

Cleaning out the crisper drawer before heading out? The brand spanking new Spin-It Database can be used to help you come up with a plan for all those (seemingly) random ingredients.

Tunes for Your Journey

Season Two of Sweets Unwrapped is live, and I’m your host! In the first episode, “What Makes a Forever Fave?” we’re talking about the evolution of Girl Scout Cookies and much, much more. Don’t miss! Listen here, or find the pod on Spotify and Apple Podcasts.

Have a tried-and-true recipe for travel, hosting, or entertaining? Share the lurrrvvvvv!

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xox,

Carla

Recipes from the Portable, Packable, Drivable Roundup—including two new previously unreleased dishes—are posted below for paid subscribers. Thank you for being here <3

I’m self-employed, and the overwhelming majority of my income comes from paid subscriptions to this newsletter. Finding time and space to write and develop recipes hasn’t been easy for me the past few weeks. If you have been here for a while and thought about signing up, this would be an amazing time to support me.

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The recipe for Dozen-Egg Frittata is posted below for paid subscribers.

I’m self-employed, and the overwhelming majority of my income comes from paid subscriptions to this newsletter. Finding time and space to write and develop recipes hasn’t been easy for me the past couple of weeks. If you have been here a while and thought about signing up, this would be an amazing time to support me.

Read more

The recipe for Cold Sliced Steak with Arugula and Parm is posted below for paid subscribers.

I’m self-employed, and the overwhelming majority of my income comes from paid subscriptions to this newsletter. Finding time and space to write and develop recipes hasn’t been easy for me the past couple of weeks. If you have been here a while and thought about signing up, this would be an amazing time to support me.

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Hello Disco Balls,

Today’s news? Yuuuuge.

When I first started working on recipes for Where Cooking Begins, there was a day when I realized I did not have the onion that I thought I had. This was very annoying: it interrupted my work flow, but worse, could force me to put on outside shoes and go to the store.

Absolutely not. I used the leek that I had instead of the onion I didn’t, which is a normal thing that all cooks do all the time. When I sat down to actually write the recipe, I had to make a choice. Do I call for the originally-intended onion, or for the leek that stood in that night? I wanted to do both.

Inadvertently, I’d tossed myself into an existential crisis. If a leek could be an onion that time, what did that mean for onions in general? Eventually, I decided that it would be borderline dishonest for me to write any recipe without acknowledging that the same dish could be made well with many alternate ingredients. Because I am stubborn and dogmatic, I didn’t want to add options to some of my recipes: if I was going to do it, I would do it for them all.

That’s how Spin It started. I codified this ingredient fluidity in Where Cooking Begins, and then again for That Sounds So Good, and in every new recipe I published and video I filmed. Not every ingredient has a Spin—but a lot of them do—a reminder that the world is your oyster, and if you don’t like oysters, the world is your clam.

There are lots of reasons to Spin It: it helps you use up things you’ve already purchased, which reduces food waste and saves money. Maybe you don’t eat a certain food, but aren’t sure if you can make the recipe with the ingredient you prefer. All food aversions are welcome here!

Cooks who are still amassing experience might feel reassured that they can use something other than what the recipe says. Experienced cooks may recognize themselves in the instinct to riff, interpret, and go off-script. Making adjustments based on what you have on hand or to suit your palate is the mark of a resourceful and confident cook—and if I have been helpful in that pursuit—well, yay.

Until now, my Spin Its lived in the dozens of original recipes I’ve published here, along with the 175 dishes in Where Cooking Begins and That Sounds So Good.

[movie trailer voice]: That’s all about to change.

Today, I’m releasing a digital, searchable tool that you can use to look up every Spin It I’ve ever called for in any of my recipes.

Unlike some random web query or using an AI tool, my Spin It search gives you access to my brain—my work, my experiments, my experience, my skill set, my food knowledge, and my personal suggestions.

Here’s how to use this database of knowledge to cook confidently from any recipe—not just my own.

Scrubbing each one of my recipes to create this database, and the additional work that went into building, designing, and editing the tool took (human!) time and (my actual!) money. To access and use it, please become a paid subscriber.

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Hello to My Vintage Vixens,

Welcome back to Recipe Osmosis—the column where beloved chefs and authors share their desert-island vintage cookbook picks.

This week’s installment comes from Farideh Sadeghin. Farideh is writer, video host, and, most recently, cookbook author! Her newest creation, The Hot Dog Cookbook, is out now.

Farideh’s vintage pick is Food of Life (1986) by Najmieh Batmanglij. An Iranian cooking classic, this immortal text has been amended and expanded over the years, and was recompiled into the New Food of Life for its 25th anniversary.

I’m self-employed, and the overwhelming majority of my income comes from paid subscriptions to this newsletter. Finding time and space to write and develop recipes hasn’t been easy for me the past couple of weeks. If you have been here for a while and thought about signing up, this would be an amazing time to support me.

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Here’s What Farideh Has to Say:

The book that I LOVE and always cook from is Food of Life. For my family, and my dad in particular, this was our Persian food bible. My dad moved to the U.S. from Iran to Washington, D.C. in 1972 to go to architecture school. He met my mom around 1974—maybe? They married in 1976.

Not that you need their personal history, but he didn’t go back to Iran much after they were married, for many reasons. Visas being a big one initially, but also the regime changed in 1979, which made traveling to and from there more difficult.

He always cooked incredible food, especially Iranian food. And while I know my dad learned a lot of what he cooks from growing up and living in Iran, and from his mom and sisters, this book was always a touchstone for what he made.

When I eventually moved to New York and began working in food, cooking Iranian food was a way for me to connect with my dad, as well as my family in Iran. I’ve only been able to visit them once, when I was 15. Najmieh Batmanglij, the author, is an authority on Iranian cuisine. I stole my dad’s copy of the book and would use it to try recipes or as a reference when I was learning new Persian dishes. Since, sadly, we aren’t really able to travel to Iran, I didn’t get the opportunity to cook side-by-side with my aunties or grandmother. Najmieh has almost taken on that role as I’ve explored the diaspora, cooking dishes from her book and bringing them home for Dad to try.

I returned my dad’s book after he noticed it was missing, but I stole a different copy copy from the Saveur test kitchen, lol (shhh). That’s the one that I have now—an updated edition called New Food of Life. I’m not sure exactly what’s changed from the original, but no matter. I still refer to it whenever I’m developing Persian-inspired recipes.

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We rounded up some vintage copies of Food of Life here.

To purchase your copy of The Hot Dog Cookbook (2026), click through here.

TGIF, my almost-beach-time babes!

xox,

Carla

Comfort is a year-round virtue. So, in the spirit of carrying a bit of wintry warmth (warmth ONLY, okay?) into the newly-born spring, I’m bringing back my Rosemary Chicken Ragu with Polenta from Where Cooking Begins.

How do you ragu?

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Chicken thighs brown with pancetta, then stew in a tomatoey bath until reaching tender perfection. The resulting ragu is not only lighter than its red-meat-laden sibling, but comes together in a weeknight-appropriate amount of time. If you want to preview the process, I cooked this on camera back in the day. Take a peek!

Happy stewing!

xox,

Carla

The recipe for Rosemary Chicken Ragu with Polenta is posted below for paid subscribers.

I’m self-employed, and the overwhelming majority of my income comes from paid subscriptions to this newsletter. Finding time and space to write and develop recipes hasn’t been easy for me the past couple of weeks. If you have been here a while and thought about signing up, this would be an amazing time to support me.

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Hi Lovelies!

Hitting Pan has always been about finishing something up and declaring my delight in how it impacted my life, whether it was a T-shirt, a moisturizer, or the cutest shape of pasta in existence.

I lost my dad on April 27th. Along with the stunning range of emotions that has followed, I’ve taken special note of the bright(er) spots in my daily life, and am actively clocking how these little things balance the rougher stuff.

These silver linings include, in no particular order:

cake;

my bedroom upgrade;

the tastiest takeout in Fort Greene, Brooklyn (where I live);

the only tequila sour recipe you need;

and the shows distracting me on demand.

I’m also including a really, really annoying book that I will harp about to whoever will listen, because complaining is cathartic, too.

I’m self-employed, and the overwhelming majority of my income comes from paid subscriptions to this newsletter. Finding time and space to write and develop recipes hasn’t been easy for me the past couple of weeks. If you have been here a while and thought about signing up, this would be an amazing time to support me.

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Spring Sprang Sprung

During Margie’s twice-a-day neighborhood walks, I have decided that grieving in the spring seems way better than being sad in the winter. We live two blocks from Fort Greene Park, where there’s a particular thin grass that comes up in the spring that Marge loves to snack on. While I wait for her to finish her salad course, I get to gander on trees heavy with greenery and blooms, along with plenty of flower sightings—tulips, lilacs, rhododendron, magnolia, cherry blossoms1.

In fact, I’m an early spring adopter: Way back in March, I welcomed the season with a Tea + Reading Party, where I got to meet 50 of you. For the party, Lauren Schofield took two of my recipes and several pounds of Plugrà butter and transformed one toasted sesame cake and one dark cocoa-banana into literal works of art.

Some people lose their appetite after something like this. Turns out I’m the kind of person who just remembered she has several pieces of those cakes in the freezer. Maybe I can’t bring my dad back, but I can eat cake! (Like I said, it’s the little things.)

To honor the power of cake, here is the recipe for my Toasted Sesame Cake, now with no paywall. (You can get the Banana Bread with Dark Cocoa and Peanuts here.) It’s got the spirit of an olive oil cake and is fragrant with vanilla, lemon, and sesame. I think the texture is even better the day after baking, and yes: it freezes really well.

Here’s the pdf and plain text.

Toasted Sesame Cake

259KB ∙ PDF file

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Toasted Sesame Cake

Advance recipe drop from Food is a Feeling (Sept. 2026)

Makes one 9-inch cake

¾ cup (6 ounces) chilled unsalted butter

Vegetable oil, for cake pan

2 tablespoons (30 g) tahini

2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil (26g)

1 tablespoon (18g) white or yellow miso

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

3/4 cup (144g) sugar, plus 2 tablespoons (24g) for topping the cake

2 lemons

1 cup (120g) all-purpose flour

⅓ cup (42 grams) fine almond flour

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 ½ teaspoons (7g) baking powder

½ teaspoon (2g) baking soda

3 large eggs

4 tablespoons (60ml) toasted sesame seeds, divided

Preheat oven to 375°F. Cut the butter into tablespoon-sized pieces and let them temper while you measure your ingredients and toast the sesame seeds. You want the butter to be pliable and cool when it’s time to mix the batter. If you cannot bend the butter without it breaking, it is still too cold. Lightly grease a 9-inch cake pan and line the bottom with a round of parchment paper.

In a small bowl, mix together the tahini, sesame oil, miso, vanilla, and ¼ cup warm water until no lumps of miso remain. Set aside.

Put 3/4 cup sugar in the bowl of a standing mixer (or large bowl, if using beaters) and grate the zest of both lemons over (about 1 tablespoon). Use your fingers to thoroughly work the zest into the sugar. Add the all-purpose flour, almond flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda, and comb through with your hands to combine and break up any lumps.

Reclining in My Bed Chamber

Months ago—when it was still winter—I started redecorating my bedroom, inspired singularly by the orange-patterned fabric in the rendering, above. I don’t know where I found it, but it was I-can’t-live-without-this at first sight. Fixated, I hatched a plan to hang it on the wall behind my headboard, and Jessy Smith at Minimizing NYC created a rendering to help me plot and plan it out.

I intended to hang the fabric like a curtain, floor to ceiling, wall to wall … which was a beautiful vision, untilI found out how much that would cost (anyone else have an incredible talent for picking out the most expensive option before seeing a single price tag???). I was okay with a less voluminous effect, so I cut the quantity in half and it still makes a statement.

My architect friends Michael and Jaclyn at Varlands (the firm that designed my kitchen!) kindly placed the wholesale order for me. During the months of waiting that ensued, I repainted, changed all my art around, and accepted the fact that I didn’t have funds left over for a new rug.2

Finally, at the end of December, the fabric arrived, and I immediately handed it off to curtain expert, Kelley Peters-Patel at Picnic House Drapers. January and February slogged along, and in March, Kelley came back to install the curtain.

I’m not an interiors person—that was firmly the domain of my ex—and it hasn’t been easy for me to trust my instincts about making design-y changes since becoming single. Until the fabric went up, 15% of me was sure I’d made a huge mistake and would deeply regret this folly and the misuse of funds. But the 85% (and input from actual experts) prevailed: I am obsessed with my bedroom. I love the way my bedside lamps reflect an orange glow off the fabric onto the pages of my books; I love how cozy and muffled it feels in there; and I love lying on my bed with the fabric behind me while I stare at the opposite side of the room (I’ve been lying in bed quite a bit lately).

If spring is about reaping what you sow, this bedroom project is the bulbs I planted in the dead of winter. (In reality, I forgot to plant tulips, which have otherwise bloomed in my backyard for the past 10 years, lol.)

Takeout and TV

Aside from the recipes I’ve got in the works for Food Processing, I haven’t been doing much cooking. I have, instead, been ordering in or taking out (see above re: my resilient appetite).

These business keep me full (and are all cute/fun enough to visit in person, too):

Zhong Zhong. I always get the chilil wontons and the Szechuan braised beef noodle soup. 10/10.

Sukh Thai. Working through a fixation with the Kea Mao (with squid) and the Kana Moo Grob—somehow the crispy skin on the pork belly stays that way, even during delivery wait times.

Burritos Juarez. I live close enough to this viral spot to jump in during off times—the lines for the handmade flour tortillas get insane. I always get the frijoles con queso burrito; Cosmo loves the pork colorado. Their breakfast burritos also slap.

TV is a wonderful, powerful, benevolent distraction. When a show is on, I’m good. When the show stops … I need to put on a new show.

I’m watching The Comeback (started with season one!), The Pitt, DTF St. Louis, Euphoria (new season is insanely good, I think!), Survivor 50, RHOBH, Summer House (used to love Wes, now convinced he is a full-on demon), Beef (season one is better, but I’ll finish the new one), Rupaul’s Drag Race (season 18 is excellent), Culinary Cup (enjoying way more than I expected; Padma forever), Love on the Spectrum (newest season, I’ve watched all the others), and a lot of Hasan Piker’s streams on YouTube. Thinking about rewatching Villanelle.

I’m Centering Tequila

I know better than to drink a lot right now, but if I’m having one cocktail (and I am), it’s a tequila sour. My friend Ross’s ratio is magic, and I’m sharing his recipe below. I like Espolòn or Arette tequila for this; it’s also great with mezcal, or you can go 50/50 for a lightly smoky vibe. It is terrific with lime juice, and equally delicious with lemon; I’ve used some and some, and that’s also been fab. He would like you to shake it with an egg white, which is how you make a proper, frothy, velvety sour, but I’m just not equipped to deal with that right now.

Ross’s Tequila Sour

Makes 1 cocktail

1 egg white (optional)

2 1/4 ounces tequila blanco

1 ounce fresh lime juice

1 ounce simple syrup

3 dashes orange bitters

Ice

If using egg white: Put the egg white into a cocktail shaker, cover, and shake vigorously until the egg white is foamy and opaque, about 15 seconds. (If not using egg white, skip that step.) Pour in the tequila, lime juice, simple syrup, and shake in the bitters.

Fill the shaker with ice, then cover and shake enthusiastically and noisily until the hand touching the cocktail shaker seems like it is going to freeze and fall off. Do not stop until the risk of physical injury seems real. Shaking ensures the drink is aerated, properly diluted, and exquisitely cold.

Strain the tequila sour into a coupe glass or a rocks glass filled with ice.

Books I Liked and One I Realllllly Didn’t

Empire of AI by Karen Hao (audiobook): brilliant, life changing. I feel so much smarter now.

The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro: dreamy and the right amount of weird.

Big Swiss by Jen Beagin: laugh-out-loud funny, tortured love story.

Famesick, by Lena Dunham. I put it down at the end and realized I felt the same as when I finished A Little Life. Body horror, pain porn. Anyone else??

***Finally, the divorce memoir that everyone is loving and I was very excited about and then absolutely, completely, totally couldn’t stand.

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Hello to My Vintage Vixens,

Welcome back to Recipe Osmosis—the column where beloved chefs and authors share their desert-island vintage cookbook picks.

This week’s installment comes from Gabe Cohen. Gabe helms the fabulously bright and whimsical design studio Fredericks & Mae along with Giovi Signorile. You’re probably familiar with their colorful, confettie-inspired cutting boards, but don’t snooze on the candles, ceramics, bocce balls, lighting, ornaments, and many other irresistible objets.

Gabe’s vintage pick is The Loaves and Fishes Cookbook (1980) by Susan Costner and Devin S. Fredericks. The latter happens to be Gabe’s aunt, whose Long Island specialty food emporium of the same name inspired the tome. Sounds great for getting summer ready, if you ask me.

This post? It’s public, baby. Share the LERV.

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Here’s What Gabe Has to Say:

My first meaningful cookbook connection was with The Loaves and Fishes Cookbook—specifically the blueberry muffin recipe.

As an adult I don't have a particular thing for muffins, but these stand apart in my mind; a homemade treat only eaten warm from the oven with abundant butter on summer mornings.

My aunt, Devon Fredericks, is one of the book's authors and the co-founder of Loaves & Fishes, an iconic speciality food store on the East End of Long Island. When I was growing up, my mom made these muffins on special occasions and I could feel a piece of her sisterly adoration in the way she revered the recipe. It was also the first time I linked the experience of eating something to a specific recipe.

In my 20s, it took me a while to return to the pleasures of cooking from a recipe, following a long detour through college food co-op stir-fry and then improvised, stoned cooking in my first Brooklyn apartment. When I finally returned to the exquisite joy of producing delicious food with the written guidance of a seasoned cook, I look back to Devon with gratitude for laying the foundation.

To purchase your very own copy of The Loaves and Fishes Cookbook, look no further.*

*This cookbook is rare and copies are expensive: we did our best when sourcing!

To check out Gabe’s goods, visit Fredericks and Mae online, or better yet, visit F&M in person at 6 Allen Street in New York City’s Lower East Side.

I dare you to get some sun this weekend.

kisses,

Carla

’Scuze the hedder. I don’t mean to be flip. But that’s what happened.

On Monday, April 27, approximately 18 years after being diagnosed with multiple myeloma, my dad, Frank Lalli, died in hospice care in the Bronx.

When we settled on the facility, he was a little bummed that it was on the other side of town from Yankee Stadium, where he’d held season tickets for many years, and famously clapped his hands so hard during one playoff game that his leather gloves split open, and by the end of the ninth, his palms were bleeding. There were moments during his time in hospice, as his coherence faded and he was asleep more than he was awake, that I wished we’d told him the place was located in the shadow of the stadium. He would have liked that.

There wasn’t much else I wished I’d told my dad, who we all called Frankie. He was diagnosed very early, and as a family, we’d been through many close calls over the years. We focused on creating as many memories as possible, and I hadn’t held any of my feelings back. He knew I loved him. He knew how much my sons loved him. The love means a lot, but the time we got means more.

My mom, sister, brother-in-law, aunt, all the grandkids, and my ex were all with him a ton during his last 10 days on earth, as we had been over the course of his life: at birthdays and holidays, Super Bowl game nights and basketball playoffs, book parties, studio sales, summer weekends, winter weekends, and wedding anniversaries—I even overlapped with my parents and sister during my honeymoon in Naples. That’s how much we liked being together.

My dad wasn’t in great shape at Easter, so it wasn’t a huge surprise when things took a turn and he ended up back at Memorial Sloan Kettering a couple of weeks ago. It sucked, but there was no shock. He knew he’d finally run out the clock, and he was absolutely pragmatic about stopping treatment—”What’s the point?” There wasn’t one.

Frankie was all about his temporal existence. Not a woo-woo guy. When I was much, much younger, I asked him what he thought happens when you die. His response has become one of our favorite Frankie quotes ever: “When you die? You’re dead.” That’s it. End of the road. There was no spirituality around death for him, no greener pasture. The kingdom come was the one he already had, here: the career as a journalist he built out of sheer determination; the family he created with Carole, his wife, my mom; the trips, mostly to Italy, because he wasn’t that interested in going anywhere else. He had a great time here on earth. He got his fill of Knicks games and Yankees games. Career accolades and awards. He loved his BMW M5 and his Alfa convertible, the car he taught me to drive stick shift on. He loved dinners out in New York City, his hometown; he could afford fancy, but his idea of a perfect night was an outdoor table with my mom at Bar Pitti in the summer.

He had lifelong friends, and a handful of enemies, too. I was into the way he accepted that some people didn’t like him one bit. I can be blunt and direct like him, too, and not everyone loves it. His ego was intact—very—sometimes too much. But, his “fuck ‘em” attitude gave me strength more than once—navigating nasty online behavior, during a couple of painful friend breakups, and when holding my own during negotiations, too.

A corporate guy, he was invested in my career and always encouraged me to be my own brand. When it was time to design the cover of Where Cooking Begins, his main piece of feedback was that my name needed to be bigger. Still bigger. Bigger yet. When I told him if we went any further, my name would eclipse the title, he said, “So what?” (His influence is hard to miss on the subsequent covers of That Sounds So Good and Food is a Feeling.) Couched as a comment about graphic design, it was his way of telling me to walk into every room with my chest puffed out.

I got two hours alone with him a couple of days after he got to MSK; it was our last real talk. I told him I supported his decision to stop treatment, one hundred percent. He told me, again, to “drink all the wine,” but also told me where to find a few bottles in his collection that might be worth selling. He told me about the wine he had already set aside for my oldest son’s college grad dinner, which is only three weeks away. He apologized for not making it to September when my book comes out, and for missing my younger son’s 17th birthday, a couple of days later. I cried while we talked; he did not. He didn’t have a single tear to shed for his circumstance, never had.

While not curable, he had a very treatable cancer, and he exceeded every life expectancy by a mile. He was asymptomatic for the first couple of years, and had many yearslong intervals of health, even as the disease progressed. I was pregnant with my second son when he was diagnosed; Cosmo showed up six months later, little brother to Leo. My sister, Nina, and her husband, Ben, brought two more babies into the family; he got more than seven years with Gia and almost four with Remo. And a little over a year ago, he became grand-Frankie-in-law to sweet Charlie. We all knew this moment would come, eventually; that’s the upside of living with a disease for as long as he did. As our family grew, our time together did, too. All of it was special, partly because we knew his time, like all of ours, was finite.

Of course, being a food writer, I want to tell you about all the meals we had, what we made, all our favorite menus. But, I’ve already done that. You already know about the spaghetti with clams, the artichoke lasagna, the “puh-tay-tuhs.” What we ate is irrelevant.

The table, though. That’s where my head is at. I want you to know about the times we laughed till we cried—and no one harder than Frank. He laughed at his own dumb puns and corny jokes until we’d all lose it and laugh at him laughing at himself. When he knew he was the joke, that he was the source of all this hilarity, that’s when he laughed the hardest. Tears streaming down his face, and then ours, everyone in hysterics, pointing, laughing, crying, banging on the table, trying to talk but nothing comes out, all of us beyond language, sobbing, clutching each other’s arms. Finally, it dies down, we pull it together, weepy, using napkins to dry our eyes, sighing, shaking it off, pouring more wine—yes, even for the children. I’m hanging on to this.

Frankie didn’t make it to publication day, but that’s okay. He was at the Food is a Feeling cover reveal party, and even agreed to take on MC duties that night, warming up the crowd and introducing the singer. (I asked him if he’d do it via text, and he responded, “Sure. Happy to ham.”) He rolled in with my mom 45 minutes after the party started and just when we were starting to wonder where they were. But there he was, looking perfect as ever in jeans, dress shirt (no tie), a blazer, and a baseball cap. No time for pleasantries. I shoved a mic in his hand and told him he was up.

Cosmo tried to help Frankie manage the big step onto the stage, but it was too steep. Even without that height advantage, he commanded the room, had the whole crowd rapt, eating out of his hand. He was cute, he was witty, he was in charge. It was very, very Frank.

After I did my reading, he and my mom mingled for a while, but they couldn’t stay long. They had a 9 P.M. reservation at King restaurant, where two of their oldest friends were meeting them for dinner, and it was time for them to bounce. What could be better?

That turned out to be his last good night in NYC. I’ll never forget how he showed up for me, then, and always.

xox Carla

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Hello to My Silver Spoons,

This comment, which was posted to my lentil technique video, is not stupid! Spoons are very important. I think about spoons all the time. I love spoons. I have a little marble container on my counter for holding my metal saucing and stirring spoons. Those are kept separately from my wooden spoons, naturally. I have at least five kinds of spoons in my silverware drawer (teaspoon, soup spoon, long-handled ice cream spoon, pointy-tipped fruit spoon, Chinese spoon). I don’t just, like, grab a random spoon. That’s insane. Who does that.

Here’s an overview of one category of spoons in my life: the metal stirring, saucing, and plating spoons. They’re the ones I touch the most.

LMK if you want to hear about my wooden spoon department.

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Here are the saucing spoons that make me swoon

1. The Kunz Spoon

   

   Renowned chef Gray Kunz was so passionate about spoons that he had one designed to his exact specifications. My kind of guy. The original Kunz spoon is beloved for its multi-functionality: it’s elegantly balanced and beautiful for stirring; sauce cascades out of it gorgeously; it’s shallow profile lends it to skimming foam or fat from the surface of soups and gravies; and the bowl narrows to a point that allows for detailed dollops.

   I first held a Kunz spoon at Union Pacific restaurant, where I was a line cook in the early 2000s. That’s all it took.

   I use the original, the small one (which is nice for eating, too), and the perforated style, seen above and below.

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2. Vintage “Pistol Grip” Soup Spoons

   

   A few years back, I bought a set of silver-plated forks and knives on eBay, and discovered in the process that I’m drawn to pistol grip flatware. The butt of the knives are curved and rounded like an old-fashioned (you guessed it) pistol, and some of the spoons and forks have a raised rib that runs down the center and slopes off the sides (see below).

   

   That led me to greedily source a bunch of serving spoons (aka “soup spoons” or “table spoons”) in that pattern, which I use for stirring and saucing. Here are some more examples. Look for silver-plated pistol grip, Queene Anne, Baguette, and/or Fidelio pattern when you’re searching.

   Flatware isn’t free—but this post is! Share the lurv.

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3. Gestura Sauce Spoon

   Another thoughtfully designed sauce spoon is this one, from Gestura (they make a cake tester I love, too!). The rim is flat, allowing you to skip the surface of liquids, the bowl holds 1 tablespoon—handy for on-the-fly measuring—and the stem is long enough to reach to the bottom of deep pots.

Big spoon or little spoon?

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Stay spooned for next time!

xox,

Carla

Hello to My Vintage Vixens,

Welcome back to Recipe Osmosis—the column where beloved chefs and authors share their desert-island vintage cookbook picks.

This week’s installment comes from Sana Javeri Kadri. Sana is the founder and CEO of the Diaspora Spice Co., which is committed to sourcing the highest quality spices with fair trade and ethical practices in mind. I’ve been a consumer of their hero product—ground turmeric—for many years, and have watched with delight as the line has expanded to include whole and ground spices, and blends, too. My pepper mill is loaded with their Aranya black peppercorns at the moment.

Sana’s vintage pick is Five Morsels of Love (2016) by Archana Pidathala, in which the author builds upon her grandmother’s family recipes and finds new meaning in well-worn dishes.

This post? It’s public, baby. Share the LERV.

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Here’s What Sana Has to Say:

My favorite vintage cookbook is Five Morsels of Love by Archana Pidathala. It’s an heirloom Andhra cookbook that she created by taking her grandmother’s family recipe notebook from over 60 years ago, retesting every single recipe, photographing them, editing them, and eventually self-publishing the book. It has since become somewhat of a cult cookbook because it’s so good, so simple, so easy to use, and it really opens up the cuisine of Andhra Pradesh in India.

I discovered this book when I started working with Prabhu Kasaraneni, who grows our Pragati turmeric in Andhra Pradesh. Before that, I knew nothing about Andhra cuisine. Once I began visiting the region, I wanted to understand more about the food there. This book truly taught me how to cook Andhra food. I’ve often said that Five Morsels of Love taught me to cook the cuisine that our Pragati turmeric was grown for, and I’ve always loved that full-circle feeling.

There’s one recipe in particular that has been incredibly impactful for me: kakarakaya vepudu, which is a sweet and spicy bitter gourd stir-fry. I had never liked bitter gourd before. I thought it was a horrible ingredient. In this recipe, the sliced bitter gourd is first boiled in diluted tamarind extract, which really mellows out the bitterness. The combination of sour and bitter becomes really exciting. Then it’s fried with spices into something complex and deeply satisfying. I’ve made this recipe more times than I can count, and I’m obsessed with it!

The bitter gourd recipe reshaped my palate. It taught me that when you harness bitterness and balance it with sourness, funk, and umami, it can be incredibly delicious. Fast forward a decade, and bitter gourd ended up on the cover of the Diaspora Spice Co. Cookbook. I credit Archana’s work for expanding my understanding of regional Indian cooking and inspiring me to dive deeply into the richness and nuance of South Asian regional cuisines.

To purchase your very own copy of Five Morsels of Love, look no further.

In addition to being a business baddie, Sana is the co-author of The Diaspora Spice Co. Cookbook, with recipe developer Asha Loupy. The cookbook features regional family recipes from across Southern Asia, with gorgeous photographs from Malati Citrawireja to boot. Order it here!

Happy last weekend of April! May cometh!

xox,

Carla