Carne asada—grilled steak spritzed with fresh lime juice—is one of those Mexican classics that many diners order at restaurants but would never consider making at home. Strange since it only takes two minutes on the grill, is delicious and makes an affordable choice when planning three or four meals around one main ingredient.

Did you know that carne asada is used in tacos, burritos, fajitas, tostadas and nachos as well as with breakfast eggs and in salads? Pair it with tortillas, lots of fresh produce and homemade salsas (bottled if you must), and you will have nutritious, satisfying meals in minutes.

This week I grilled lots of carne asada for a meal with rice and vegetables and tacos de bistek with salsa de aguacate the second night. No one in my family felt they were eating leftovers because it was different and delicious.

Homemade Mexican food opens up the wonderful world of ethnic markets that serve the everyday culinary needs of their community. Unlike our mainstream western supermarkets that offer limited Mexican ingredients as pricey specialty items, these stores have a high turnover that allows for lower prices. Plus, they are great fun to explore.

Earlier this week I headed to the Mi Pueblo market for bistek (long thin, flavorful steak cut from the cow’s belly), tortillas, creamy Hass avocados, tomatillos, limes and chiles. While I depend on traditional bistek, you could easily substitute skirt steak. Be sure to tell your butcher that you are making carne asada and need it cut in half lengthwise. Otherwise it will be too thick and not work in the dish.

I couldn’t help doing a quick price comparison to my local upscale market because the difference was so apparent. Bistek sold for $5.98 a pound compared to $12 for skirt steak. Ripe avocados for my salsa were $1.25 at Mi Pueble compared to $1.49 each locally; tomatillos were $1.69 a pound compared to $2.99. Limes were 25-cents each compared to 39-cents. A package of 40 corn tortillas cost $2.50 while a dozen at my market averaged $2. These are significant savings for a family on a budget

Hungry?—let’s get started.

Day 1: Grilled Carne Asada with rice and a simple salad.

How easy is easy? You decide. Take your bistek or prepared skirt steak and sprinkle salt on both sides. Set aside. Heat a grill or dry, heavy-bottomed skillet over a medium-high flame and lightly brown the steak for 40–50 seconds (skirt steak may require more time as it’s often thicker). Adjust the heat as needed to prevent burning. Flip the steak and cook for approximately 30–60 seconds on the second side. Squeeze lime juice on both sides of the meat and serve promptly with rice and a simple salad.

Day 2: Tacos de Bistek (steak tacos)
with Salsa de Aguacate (avocado and tomatillo sauce)

A standard at taco stands across Mexico, this flavor-packed meal is super quick and nutritious. Place your carne asada on a clean working surface and cut into ¼-inch strips. Turn the strips and cut again to create ¼-inch dice. Sprinkle the meat with fresh lime juice and set aside. Warm the tortillas on a grill to soften. If the grill is “dirty” with meat juice from freshly grilled steak, even better. Fill the warm tortillas with the diced carne asada, chopped onions, salsa de aguacate and cilantro.

Salsa de aguacate is a quick blender sauce made with ripe Hass avocados, tomatillos, chiles, onion, garlic and cilantro. Chop, toss, blitz and you’re done. And the good news is that the acidic tomatillos prevent the avocados from discoloring for a day or two. A nice change from guacamole, salsa de aguacate is a great party dish served with tortilla chips.

Try these two dishes and you’ll know why carne asada is a great main ingredient when planning meals on a budget. You are only limited by your imagination. As I finished my tacos, I had to ask, how can I be on a budget when it tastes so good?

Print my Carne Asada, Tacos de Bistek and Salsa de Aguacate (avocado and tomatillo sauce) for your convenience.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love is sweet. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Print a copy of my Red Velvet cake recipe for your convenience.

Leftovers—who says that they have to be boring? At my house a juicy roasted chicken and rice one night often means a big pot of spicy mulligatawny soup the next. No one is ever disappointed.

If you’ve never heard of this beloved Anglo-Indian soup, you’re in for a treat. Indian cooks all have their favorite versions, but the soup basically combines a fragrant curry broth with cooked chicken pieces and rice, fresh lime juice and cilantro. Rich and deeply flavorful, it at once warms the soul and nourishes the body.

I learned how to make mulligatawny soup from my friend Leela Manilal during one of our marathon cooking sessions. We were into the third day of recipe development and had lots of leftovers. Always frugal, Leela stressed the importance of never wasting food but re-working dishes into new and exciting meals the second day.

Everyone at our table that day called mulligatawny “the soup with the funny name,” so Leela patiently coached us in its correct pronunciation. She told us that the name comes from the Tamil language and means “pepper water.” I thought that a tad strange, as there is no pepper in the base recipe (though there is a bit of chile).

Fast forward to my kitchen last Saturday as I prepared lunch for some friends. I find picking chickens for this recipe boring, but am driven forward by the promise of a kitchen filled with the scent of sautéing onions, garlic and ginger. As I stirred in the coriander, earthy cumin, golden turmeric, red chili powder and Turkish bay leaves, my tummy growled with anticipation.

With the soup pot simmering, I decided to set the table on the deck and take full advantage of a small window of warm sunshine on an otherwise dreary day. I covered the table with some beautifully gauzy orange Indian fabric and got out my favorite Jaipur Blue pottery—all hand carried from India over the years. Their brilliant colors and patterns are the perfect contrast for this reddish soup. In this pretty setting, my humble but inspired pot of leftovers became the high point of the weekend; good friends, good food and time to catch up on everyone’s life.

I ladled the piping hot soup into bowls and…

…encouraged my friends to help themselves to rice. None of the guests had ever added rice to soup this way…

…or spritzed in fresh lime juice. Some commented on the taste and beauty of the contrasting green cilantro leaves as they sprinkled them on top. We all inhaled the divine scent with each bite, and agreed that mulligatawny soup is sensational.

Could things get any better? Well yes, they did. I brought out a large basket of warm naan, the Indian flatbread, as a special treat. Some guests dipped it into their soup while other simply devoured it. I told them that I found it in the artisan bread section of my local market, but they could also find it in Indian markets and restaurants.

The afternoon flew by as we savored every last drop of soup. One guest looked at me and laughed, “I guess there won’t be any leftovers today, so you’ll have to create something new tomorrow. Can I come for dinner?”

My friend and cook extraordinaire, Leela Manilal, always enjoys the luscious chocolate desserts at my table—especially the truffles. She asked if I would teach her how to make them, and I knew that my favorite chocolate-Kahlúa truffles would be the perfect place to start. They are easy for beginners and offer a sophisticated depth of flavor that satisfies the most devout truffle lovers, including Leela.

In the kitchen, she spied a large block of chocolate and pitcher of cream on the table. “That’s it? How can two basic ingredients produce perfection?” The secret is in the chocolate. Always use best quality brands like Valhrona, Scharffen Berger or my personal favorite, Barry Callebaut. All are easily available at good grocery stores, online baking supply sites or kitchen stores. Inexpensive supermarket chocolate is not worth your time or money in this instance.

I handed Leela a sharp chef’s knife and showed her how to chop the chocolate into small, uniform pieces so that it would melt evenly. “Barbara, that’s so much chocolate. Is this really necessary?” If you leave large chunks, they won’t melt completely and you could have lumpy truffles.

Lumps seemed almost inevitable when I poured the hot cream over the chocolate. As any experienced truffle maker knows, this step instantly creates an alarming mass of puddles and chocolaty blobs. “Now what?” asked Leela in frustration. “It’s a muddy mess!” I handed her a whisk and reassured her all would be well.

As Leela whisked with a vengeance, I told her how an assistant to culinary great, Auguste Escoffier, invented chocolate truffles when he made a huge mistake in his kitchen over 80 years ago. The assistant was whipping up some chocolate pastry cream and not paying attention as he accidentally poured hot cream over a bowl of chocolate pieces. Sacre bleu! What to do? Soon the melting chocolate absorbed the cream and cooled into the malleable mixture that we know as ganache. Reluctant to waste expensive ingredients, the assistant scooped and formed the ganache into lumpy, bumpy balls and rolled them in cocoa powder. The resulting confection strongly resembled truffles those rare, highly prized fungi dug up in parts of France and Italy. Voila! Chocolate truffles were born.

Today, there are hundreds of truffle variations as cooks flavor them with Grand Marnier, Kahlúa, brandy, whiskey, a variety of wines, liqueurs and extracts and coat them with crushed nuts, cocoa powder, chocolate shavings, sugars and spices—or dip them into warm liquid chocolate.

Soon Leela’s hard work was rewarded, as the mixture came together into a satiny smooth batch of perfect ganache. I handed her a quarter cup of Kahlúa to flavor the mixture. “That isn’t much,” she observed. Therein lies the secret to flavoring truffles: always go easy. There is nothing worse than those that reek of alcohol or send you into hand-flailing contortions with over-the-top taste. Be especially careful with flavorings designed for serious bakers, as they are more intense than the supermarket extracts we are all familiar with.

Once the ganache sets in the refrigerator, creating uniformed sized truffles is easy with a one and one-quarter-inch ice cream scoop. Perfectionist Leela struggled to roll perfectly round balls between her warm hands—with messy results. I laughed as she held up her chocolate-covered hands, looking much like a kid making yummy mud pie. Before long, she learned to embrace the imperfections of a quick scoop, working swiftly to keep the ganache cool, firm and easy to handle. Since this was a lesson, I had Leela roll some of her truffles in chopped pistachios while others got a dusting of cocoa powder. For the tour de force, I gave her a bowl of molten chocolate with two forks for dipping the remaining truffles. To my mind, there is nothing better than double chocolate.

Packing up the truffles was bittersweet because Leela was leaving for her home in New Delhi, India the next day. I slipped a pound of Callebaut chocolate into her suitcase and knew that she would spread the magic of truffles to her family and friends.

Get a printable Chocolate-Kahlúa Truffles for easy reference.

Refer to my illustrated, step-by-step instructions on  How To Chop Chocolate for Melting and How To Melt Chocolate.

When I was a kid, Oreos were my favorite cookies in the whole world. Today, they are the dark crunchy crust of my decadent chocolate mousse pie. It’s a bit more sophisticated but just as memorable. This deep, rich chocolate dessert is my Valentine to you.

As an eater, I’m not sure which gives more pleasure: licking the spoon after folding mounds of freshly whipped cream into liquid chocolate infused with espresso and Kahlúa, or just dipping Oreo cookies into an icy-cold glass of milk, then sucking them dry until the next dip. Chocolate love needs no real thought—it just is.

This pie is a showstopper dessert—the “wow!” both at large gatherings and spoon-to-spoon, one-on-one with your special love. And it gets better—especially for you, the cook—because this pie is easy to assemble and can be conveniently made a day ahead.

To start, you’ll need a 10-inch round springform pan to mold and chill the pie. For Valentine’s Day, I used a special heart-shaped springform that I bought at a local kitchen store. These pans have side latches that make removing the pie in one piece fairly foolproof. After all, who wants all that chocolate love on the floor or in multiple pieces of ugly on the serving plate?

Think you’re too busy to try this? Time is on your side as the crust and mousse are ready in approximately 30 minutes. And while the recipe allows for a quick chill of four to six hours, mousse pie is best when chilled overnight. Now if you are new to cooking or never attempted a dessert like this, don’t be shy. Jump right in and refer to my illustrated, step-by-step cooking techniques and tips for help.

The ingredients are easy: double-chocolate Oreos (any style will work, as there is no wrong Oreo), semi-sweet chocolate chips, espresso powder, Kahlúa, butter, eggs and heavy cream—plus decorations of your choice. My personal Valentines get fresh raspberries, but you could pipe whipped cream on top, add shaved chocolate or colorful holiday candies or sprinkles.

On the day I removed my mousse pie from the refrigerator and outlined it with plump red raspberries, I couldn’t help humming a bit of Janis Joplin, “…come on, come on…take another little piece of my heart…it makes you feel good.”

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Refer to my illustrated, step-by-step cooking techniques and tips:

Make a Crumb Crust
Melt Chocolate
Grease and Flour a Cake Pan
Unmold Your Cake from a Springform Pan

Oh, how I love spaghetti carbonara twirled on to my fork, then lustily devoured and slurped while plucking crispy pieces of pancetta off the plate with my fingers. No napkins required. Besides being delicious, this pasta dish is the perfect embodiment of one of my favorite cooking principles: Simplicity rules!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfetto!

Print a copy of my Spaghetti Carbonara and How To Cook Perfect Pasta for your convenience.

It smokes, it gurgles and bubbles, then spews orange marshmallow lava over a dark chocolate mountain of cake. The crowd goes wild!

I made my first Amazing Erupting Volcano Cake several years ago when Chef Catherine Christiansen sent the recipes for her Beyond Wonderful baking column. At first glance they seemed complex, but with a bit of planning the cake was easy and came together quickly. This cake is all about fun so don’t get hung up on perfection. Embrace all its lumps, bumps and crumbs—they add character and keep you sane.

First pick a theme, then let your imagination soar. I’ve made this cake with dinosaurs, super heroes…

Star Wars characters and …

…zombies—lots of zombies slipping and sliding in  green slime.

You’ll find everything you need at cake supply, party and toy stores; from small bottles of brilliant red, orange and turquoise food coloring to plastic trees, edible rocks and a variety of characters, candles and costumes for added party fun.

Who can resist Darth Vadar and a Jedi Master blowing up the Amazing Erupting Volcano cake?

And with a little face paint and disgusting teeth, this birthday boy looks like he jumped off the zombie cake.

I bake the cakes and prepared the black chocolate and green buttercreams and the Kahlúa soaking syrup the day before assembly. Next day, I frost the cakes, made the sugar lava and lake and color the marshmallow lava. Assembly is a breeze and great fun. Once the Amazing Volcano stands before me in all its glory, I just can’t wait to blow it up! When it’s time, everyone gathers and holds their breath as I fuel the cake with cubes of dry ice, hot water, and warm lava. Then it starts—a little smoke—a few bubbles—lots of hoots and hollers—and over the side it goes. “That is so cool! I want that cake for my birthday.” “WOW!” Soon the group joins in a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday with intermittent giggles as the volcano continues its spectacular show.

As the lava…or oozing slime slows, everyone goes for the cake and just can’t believe how good it is. More than a few have a second piece, but my mind is always on the leftover chocolate frosting. No matter how delicious—and how spectacular—the cake, it’s hard to beat the thrill of pure buttercream, sneaked on the sly. Give me a spoon.

See more photos from the hilarious zombie birthday party on our Facebook page.

Get a printable copy of The Amazing Erupting Volcano Cake.

I especially loved the day that my friend Yolanda, a great Mexican cook, taught me how to make this super quick and easy vegetarian version. In less than 15 minutes one can fry a dozen corn tortillas slathered with refried beans, mashed potatoes or cheese to crispy perfection.

Once you’ve fried up the basics, the fun begins. Embellish the tacos with shredded lettuce and cheese, chopped tomatoes, onions and jalapeño peppers and sliced avocados. In my family, everyone creates their own favorite style. Some top theirs off with a dollop of sour cream while others go heavy on the spicy salsa. Bottled is popular at my house, although I often whip up the homemade kind when time permits.

One suggestion before you begin: make lots, make lots, make lots. These go very fast.

Frying the Tortillas

For the very best flavor, fry the tacos as close to possible before serving.

1. Pour oil into a spacious, heavy-bottomed skillet to a ½-inch depth. Heat it over a medium-high flame until 350-degrees—or sizzling.

2. Place several tablespoons of refried beans, mashed potatoes or shredded cheese on one side of the tortilla.

3. Fold the tortilla in half and hold it closed with your hand.

4. Place the bottom of the taco into the hot oil and hold in place for 12–15 seconds.

5. Turn to the side and cook until golden. Flip and fry the other side.

6. Remove from the oil with tongs or a large slotted spoon. Tip sideways and allow the excess oil to drain. Place on a clean working surface lined with paper towels. Blot.
Repeat the process until all 12 tacos are fried.

Fill the Tacos

1. Fill the tacos by carefully opening them and adding your favorite toppings.

2. Serve promptly.

Print a copy of Tacos de Dorado for your convenience.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1. Place the chiles over a high flame, turning them as they blacken.
2. Remove the blackened chiles from the flame and immediately cover them with a clean towel.
3. Let them sweat for 10 minutes.
4. Remove the towel and peel off the charred skin with a paring knife or your fingers. Remove excess pieces of skin with a paper towel.
5. Make a slit in each chile and carefully remove the seeds.
6. Rinse the chiles in cool water to remove any remaining skin bits or seeds.

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

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

Print a copy of  White Chili  and How to Roast Chilies for your convenience.