Island Rojak: Jicama and Tropical Fruit Salad with Mojito Dressing

As of Sunday, Summer is officially here, although depending on where you live the season might already be an unwelcome guest. Along much of the northeastern US, it still feels like rainy spring. This recipe, a simple salad of tropical fruits and jicama, is perfect for a warm Summer day—whenever such a day might arrive.

Rojak or rujak is a fruit and vegetable salad found in Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore. Malay for mixture, rojak is a dish combining various tropical fruits, root vegetables, and outright oddities such as tofu, shrimp paste, fried dough, and rice cakes. A mixture indeed.

Fruit Basket: Star fruit, Papaya, Persimmon, Mango

This, my recipe, prepares a salad of crunchy julienned jicama topped with an assortment of tropical fruits and a "mojito" dressing of muddled mint, lime, and palm sugar.

For this recipe, use your favorite tropical and asian fruits that are in season and fresh. Mango and pineapple are excellent here, as are persimmon and star fruit.

Makes 4 servings.

16 leaves mint
2 teaspoons palm sugar
1/4 cup lime juice
1 medium jicama, peeled and julienned into 1/16" matchsticks
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
2 mangoes, peeled and cubed
2 star fruit, trimmed and sliced
1 pineapple, peeled and cubed
4 sprigs mint, to garnish

In a mortar, combine the mint leaves and palm sugar. Using a pestle, lightly bruise the mint. Combine with the lime juice. Let the mint soak in the juice for 5 minutes. Strain and discard the mint leaves.

In a medium-sized mixing bowl, toss the julienned jicama with enough dressing to coat, about half. Season with sea salt.

Divide the jicama among salad plates. Arrange the fruit on top of the jicama. Spoon a little dressing over the fruit, just enough to lightly dress. Garnish with a mint sprig. Pairs well with a mojito.

Roselle meets Ginger Cocktail

I call this cocktail Roselle meets Ginger, as it is made from hibiscus-infused tequila blanco and ginger-infused simple syrup. I really dig this cocktail. Round and refreshing, with a great flavor profile.

Ginger and limes

Makes 1 drink.

Ingredients:

2 ounces (2 pony shots) hibiscus-infused tequila (recipe)
1/2 ounce (1/2 pony shot) freshly-squeezed lime juice
1 tablespoon ginger-lime syrup (recipe)
1 lime twist, to garnish

Fill a cocktail shaker with large ice cubes. Add the tequila, lime juice, and ginger-lime syrup to the shaker. Shake vigorously for 15 seconds. Let rest until the outside of the shaker begins to sweat.

Fill an old fashioned glass with large ice cubes. Strain the cocktail shaker into the glass. Garnish with a lime twist. Enjoy.

Sally's Night Out Cocktail

I call this cocktail Sally's Night Out: A not untraditional margarita, with a hibiscus infusion and a splash of sparkling water. Crisp and refreshing.

Sally's Night Out

Makes 1 drink.

Ingredients:

1.5 ounces (1 jigger shot) hibiscus-infused tequila (recipe)
1 ounce (1 pony shot) Grand Marnier
1/2 ounce (1/2 pony shot) lime juice
1/2 teaspoon agave syrup
splash sparking water
1 lime peel , to garnish

Fill a cocktail shaker with large ice cubes. Add the tequila, Grand Marnier, lime juice, and agave syrup to the shaker. Shake vigorously for 15 seconds. Let rest until the outside of the shaker begins to sweat.

Fill an old fashioned glass with large ice cubes. Strain the shaker into the glass. Drop a lime peel, skin side down, into the glass. Enjoy.

Hibiscus-Infused Tequila

Hibiscus-based teas and aguas frescas are drank throughout the world as a refreshing herbal beverage. Hibiscus has a clean, tart flavor that pairs wonderfully with tequila and a spot of sweetness, producing a delicious warm weather cocktail. This simple recipes produces an infusion of hibiscus into tequila blanco.

Hibiscus-Infused Tequila

For this recipe, I call for dried hibiscus sepals. Sepals, also called calyces, are the tender green leaves under the petals in a flower. Tea and other hibiscus-based drinks are made from the plant's sepals, not its petals. Ideally, seek out either whole dried sepals or a high-quality hibiscus tea. If your sepals are whole, roughly chop them. I wouldn't waste a bottle of good tequila on bagged tea.

Makes 750 milliliters.

Ingredients:

1/3 cup hibiscus sepals
750 milliliters tequila blanco

Place the hibiscus in a pitcher or similar container with a lid. Pour in the tequila. Stir. Cover.

Steeping the hibiscus in tequila

Let steep, stirring once or twice, for 4 hours.

Strain through a cheesecloth-lined mesh strainer back into the original tequila bottle. Will keep indefinitely.

Crostini with Peas, Mint, Walnuts, and Ricotta

These simple to prepare crostini are a great spring or summer antipasto, particularly on a warm day when peas are still available fresh. You can, of course, make this with frozen peas, but the texture will suffer.

I like this dish because it morphs the well known pairing of peas and mint into a new flavor profile, with walnuts (both whole nuts and the oil), sheep's milk ricotta, and crunchy pea greens.

Crostini of Spring Peas, Mint, Walnuts, and Ricotta

Makes 4 crostini, suitable for 4 large antipasti.

Ingredients:

2 pounds green peas, shelled
6 leaves mint, chiffonaded
1/2 cup whole walnuts
1/4 cup walnut oil, plus more to drizzle on the bread
1/4 cup grape seed oil
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
4 thick slices rustic country bread
3/4 cup ricotta, preferably di pecora (from sheep's milk)
4 attractive stalks pea greens, to garnish
sea salt, to taste

Setup an ice bath. Set aside.

Bring a large pot of heavily-salted water to boil. Add the shelled green peas and blanche until cooked through but not soft, 90 seconds. Drain and plunge into the ice bath. Once cool, drain again. Set aside to dry.

In a small mixing bowl, combine the blanched peas, mint chiffonade, walnuts, walnut oil, grapeseed oil, and white wine vinegar. Toss until coated. Season to taste with sea salt.

On a grill or in a grill pan, toast the bread until just slightly toasted and starting to brown. Drizzle one side with walnut oil. Season lightly with sea salt.

Spread a generous helping of ricotta across each slice of bread. Spoon the dressed pea and walnut salad atop the ricotta. Sprinkle with a pinch more sea salt. Garnish with a pea green.

Serve. Pairs well with a white wine of the Sauvignon blanc grape from the Sancerre AOC in the Loire Valley, France.

The Negroni Cocktail

The classic apéritif the Negroni is a work of art when correctly crafted. And with just three ingredients—gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari—all of equal proportion, it should not be hard to get right. Yet so often it is shoddily prepared, if not made with entirely the wrong ingredients, that a perfect Negroni is a rarity. But it is a rarity worth seeking out.

The Negroni

The key to the Negroni is its balance. That Zen derives from equal parts of all three ingredients—and the right ingredients to begin with. Campari is Campari, so that is easy. For the gin, you want something smooth, so I usually reach for Plymouth. But smooth and full bodied aren't mutually exclusive, and Anchor Steam's Junípero is full bodied, with huge juniper notes, but also smooth, with minimal bitters. For the sweet vermouth, the traditional input is a classic Italian russo such as Martini & Rossi. I also like Vya Sweet, a craft vermouth made in California. The goal is a perfectly balanced package, with the astringent gin paired with the bitter Campari, itself tempered by the sweet vermouth.

The Negroni's origins, as with all cocktail history, is likely as much myth as fact. The story is that the flashy barfly Count Camillo Negroni, in the early 1920's at Firenze's Bar Casoni, grew tired of his Americano (the highball cocktail, not the espresso drink, of sweet vermouth, Campari, and sparkling water). The bartender, recognizing the count's dipsomania, swapped the sparkling water for gin. Intentionally or not, the result was a surprisingly balanced cocktail. The count was in heaven.

There is some debate as to whether the original Negroni was served straight up in a cocktail glass or on the rocks in an old fashioned. Today, in official US cocktail guides, the drink is served on the rocks in an old fashioned. I prefer that approach, because the extra chill makes the drink all the more refreshing and the slight dilution helps balance it out. Also, like Leo, I love the feel of a heavy old fashioned in my hand. But don't take my word for gospel; try it both ways and you decide. Make sure your cocktail glass is well chilled, though.

One more note: A perfect Negroni is stirred, not shaken. A little dilution is actually welcome, but you want to avoid the froth that shaking develops. So be gentle and stir.

Makes 1 drink.

Ingredients:

1 ounce (1 pony shot) gin
1 ounce (1 pony shot) sweet vermouth
1 ounce (1 pony shot) Campari
1 orange peel, to garnish

Fill a large glass with ice cubes. Combine the gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari. With a bar spoon, stir well until integrated. Let rest until the glass starts to sweat.

Fill an old fashioned glass (lowball) with large ice cubes. Strain in the contents of the large glass.

Flame the orange peel: Hold the peel over the cocktail glass, skin side down, and run a lit match back and forth across the skin with the flame about an inch away, firmly squeezing the peel until it ignites.

Rub the orange peel over the rim of the old fashioned glass. Drop the peel into the glass, skin side down. Enjoy.

Gnudi with Tartufata and Black Truffles

Given the cost and hedonism of truffles, this recipe is a due, for two. You can certainly double it, but I suggest enjoying it with just that special someone.

Gnudi with Tartufata and Black Truffles

For this dish, we create a salsa tartufata, truffle sauce, from garlic-steeped olive oil and freshly-grated black truffles. Despite that decadence, the dish's star is gnudi of ricotta and pea greens, although you can substitute the more traditional spinach and ricotta gnudi if you prefer.

Black Truffles

Makes two servings.

Ingredients:

3 tablespoons your favorite peppery olive oil
2 cloves garlic, smashed
1 ounce finely-grated plus 10 thin shavings fresh black truffles
1/2 a batch ricotta and pea green gnudi (recipe)
sea salt, to taste

Prepare and cook the gnudi per the recipe.

Sauteing whole garlic

In a small saute pan over medium-low heat, add 3 tablespoons of the olive oil and the smashed garlic. Cook, occasionally moving the garlic around, until it begins to brown. Using a slotted spoon, remove the garlic from the pan and discard.

Lower heat to low. Add the grated truffle and a pinch of sea salt. Stir to integrate. Remove from heat. Add the gnudi and toss to coat.

Divide among two large, warm plates. Garnish with shaved truffle. Serve immediately. Pairs well with a younger, lighter red wine blend from the Valpolicella DOC in Provincia di Verona, Veneto, Italy.

Gnudi: Pea Green and Ricotta Gnocchi

This recipe prepares gnocchi—an Italian dumpling—not of the common potato, but of ricotta. Called gnudi, the resulting dumpling is light, fluffly, and cheesy.

Gnudi: Pea Green and Ricotta Gnocchi

This recipe is similar to my gnudi of spinach and ricotta recipe, but the spinach is replaced with pea greens. The two recipes are interchangeable; spinach is the more classic approach, but the pea greens yield a delicious twist.

Pea greens are the leaves of the pea plant. Pea shoots are the tips of the plant: a fibrous stalk with the leaves and threadlike climbing appendages (pea tendrils) attached. Pea sprouts are the new, tender shoots of the pea plant, with no tendrils and only the smallest of leaves. For this recipe, you only want the greens. Sometimes you can buy them separately, but more likely you will need to buy the whole shoot or sprout. If you have shoots, individually remove the leaves. With sprouts, you can remove the tougher and thicker bottom stems and get away with steaming the rest.

Makes four servings worth of gnudi.

Ingredients:

3/4 pound young pea greens, stems trimmed and rinsed well
1 teaspoon plus 1 teaspoon sea salt, plus more to taste
1 cup ricotta, di bufala if possible, drained of excess water
1/4 cup plus 1/4 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 cup freshly and finely-grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, preferably stravecchio
2 egg yolks, lightly beaten
2 teaspoons freshly-ground white pepper
1/4 teaspoon freshly-grated nutmeg

Steaming the pea greens

Rinse the pea greens one more time. Do not dry. In a saute pan with a lid over medium heat, add the wet pea greens and one teaspoon of sea salt. Cover and cook until tender, about 4 minutes. Drain the greens. Once they are sufficiently cool to handle, squeeze out as much water as possible.

Folding together the ingredients

Chop well the pea greens. Set aside on paper towels to further dry. Let cool to room temperature.

In a large mixing bowl, combine the pea greens, ricotta, and 1/4 cup of all-purpose flour. Stir well with a wooden spoon. Add the Parmigiano-Reggiano, egg yolks, 1 teaspoon of sea salt, white pepper, and nutmeg. Stir together. Unless your immune system is weak, taste and adjust salt.

Fill a small mixing bowl with the remaining 1/4 cup of flour. Dust your hands in the flour. Form the mixture into small oblate spheroids (slightly-flatted balls), about 1/2 to 3/4 an inch across. You do not need to roll gnudi across a fork, as they are already rather absorbent.

Lightly dredge the gnudi in the flour, shaking off excess, so that they have a thin coat.

To cook: Bring a stock pot of heavily-salted water to boil. Add the gnudi in batches, about a half dozen at a time. Cook, gently stirring, until the gnudi rise to and remain on the top, about 4 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, remove to a colander. Continue with the remaining gnudi.

Nachos de España

This dish recrafts the familiar Texan-Mexican nachos with Spanish ingredients. Out are the Mexican cheese, the chilies, the salsa. In are young and aged Manchego, Mahón, chorizo, and both sweet and hot paprika. A different and tasty approach.

Makes 4-6 small servings or 2-3 large.

Ingredients:

8 ounces yellow corn tortilla chips, two handfuls less than 100 chips, just under one medium-sized bag
2 cups grated Manchego, fresco (aged 3 months), preferably artesano (raw)
1 cup grated Manchego, viejo (aged 12 months), preferably artesano (raw)
1/2 cup grated Mahón
1/2 pound dried, Spanish, picante chorizo, sliced thin on a bias
1 small yellow onion, diced
2 teaspoons minced garlic
2 teaspoons sweet paprika (pimentón dulce)
2 teaspoons hot paprika (pimentón picante)
1 cup scallion & chive crème fraîche (recipe)

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Place just under half of the tortillas, tight but barely overlapping, in the center of a Silpat or aluminum foil-lined baking sheet. Top with a little less than half the cheese, chorizo, onion, and garlic.

Repeat with about 2/3 of the remaining ingredients, centered on the first layer of chips, so as to create a pyramidal mound.

For the final layer, repeat with the remaining ingredients, about 1/5 of the original amount, centered on the second layer of chips, furthering the pyramid.

Ready for the oven

Place in oven and bake until bubbling and starting to brown, 6-7 minutes.

Once browning, remove from oven and plate. Sprinkle with the sweet and hot paprika. Serve immediately with scallion crème fraîche.

Jefferson Survives Cocktail

I call this cocktail Jefferson Survives, after John Adams' last words.

Jefferson Survives Cocktail

This drink is a modification of the prohibition-era cocktail The Last Word. A gem of that era, composed of gin, Chartreuse, maraschino liqueur, and lime juice, the drink is now rarely seen. Here, I have replaced the maraschino with elderflower liqueur, and tweaked the proportions to keep the drink balanced.

Makes 1 drink.

Ingredients:

1 ounce (1 pony shot) gin
1/2 ounce (1/2 pony shot) green Chartreuse
3/4 ounce (1/2 jigger shot) St-Germain elderflower liqueur
3/4 ounce (1/2 jigger shot) lime juice
1 lime twist, to garnish

Fill a cocktail glass with large ice cubes. Set aside to chill.

Fill a cocktail shaker with large ice cubes. Add the gin, green Chartreuse, St-Germain elderflower liqueur, and lime juice. Shake vigorously for 15 seconds. Let sit until the outside of the shaker starts to sweat.

Discard the ice from the cocktail glass. Strain the contents of the shaker into the cocktail glass. Garnish with a lime twist. Enjoy.

Strozzapreti, Spring Mushroom Ragù, Ricotta

This dish is a simple way to plate my spring mushroom ragù. We cook strozzapreti until al dente, toss with the ragù, and garnish with a dollop of ricotta, a sprinkle of chive, and a thyme sprig.

Spring Mushroom Ragù, Strozzapreti, Ricotta

Strozzapreti, priest strangler in Italian, is a dried, usually hand-rolled pasta in the shape of a long, rolled towel. Many myths describe the origin of the name. Regardless, the pasta does have a thick, mouth filling quality that, short of suffocation, is welcome in dishes with thick sauces or multiple ingredients. Note some recipes for strozzapreti describe a spinach and ricotta dish that is strikingly similar to gnudi. You want the dried pasta, which you can find at better Italian markets or Formaggio Kitchen. Both gemelli and casarecci (cesariccia) are fine substitutes. In a pinch, penne rigate works too.

Makes 4 servings.

Ingredients:

3/4 pound strozzapreti
about 2 cups spring mushroom ragù (recipe)
8 teaspoons chopped chive
about 1/2 cup ricotta
4 attractive sprigs thyme
sea salt, to taste

Bring a large, heavily-salted stockpot of water to boil. Add the strozzapreti and cook until 1 minute short of al dente. Note that strozzapreti wields a thin line between under and overcooked, so test and taste often. Drain, reserving 1/4 cup of cooking liquid.

Meanwhile, in a large saute pan, gently reheat the spring mushroom ragù if needed. Add the drained pasta to the saute pan and gently stir to coat. Be careful, as strozzapreti is particularly delicate. Taste and adjust sea salt.

Divide among 4 warmed pasta bowls. Sprinkle each plate with chive. Place a generous dollop of ricotta on the center of the ragù. Arrange a thyme sprig on top. Serve.

Spring Mushroom Ragù

This isn't my prized mushroom ragù, which is a thick, rich, mushroom-rich, umami fest. That dish is one of my favorites, but, for spring, I tweak the recipe a bit, aiming for a lighter, brighter ragù. The star of the dish is morel mushrooms, with their deep woodsy flavor and unique texture, which fruit for just a few months in the spring. Instead of heavy cream, we thicken this ragù by slow cooking the mushrooms with a good, gelatinous chicken stock.

I vacillated over the decision to put morel mushrooms in a ragù. One of morels' top attributes is their interesting, honeycomb texture. Their shape and feel is wonderful in the mouth. I subscribe to the "simple is better" philosophy with ingredients such as morels, and I definitely think they shine their brightest in a simple saute of butter and garnishing of thyme and sea salt. So go do that first. And then, on a cooler night, chop up a small handful and other springtime mushrooms and try out this ragù, perhaps with your favorite pasta or a big, steaming bowl of polenta, garnished with fresh herbs and a generous dollop of bovine ricotta. Morel mushrooms are not cheap, but I feel this dish is worth it.

Chicken stock provides this ragù's backbone. You will want to use a high quality, gelatinous stock—the thicker the better. We add it and several cups of liquid used to reconstitute dried porcinis and then we slow simmer the ragù, reducing it down until thick and meaty—all without cream. If possible, go with a homemade stock, and toss in chicken feet and extra bones. If homemade is undoable, a local specialty store's housemade stock is likely sufficient. If you use store-bought stock and find the ragù is not as thick as desired, a little heavy cream, reduced down, can thicken things up.

Makes about 3 cups, sufficient for 4 servings.

Ingredients:

1 ounce dried porcini mushrooms
2 cups filtered or spring warm water
4 tablespoons olive oil
1 large yellow onion, diced
2 green habanero chile peppers, seeded and chopped
1/4 pound morel mushrooms, chopped
1/4 pound spring mushrooms, such as oyster, wild enokitake, or torq
1/2 pound crimini mushrooms, stemmed and chopped
1 cup brandy, preferably Cognac
4 tablespoons (about half a tube) tomato paste
3 cups chicken stock, preferably homemade and very gelatinous
1 tablespoon fresh thyme
1/4 cup minced Italian parsley
sea salt, to taste

Inspect the dry mushrooms, removing any grit. Place the dried mushrooms and warm water in a bowl. Let soak for 30 minutes. Remove the mushrooms, squeezing out as much excess water as possible. Chop them. Set aside and let dry. Strain the soaking water through a cheesecloth or coffee strainer and into a second bowl. Reserve.

Heat a large saute pan over medium heat. Add the olive oil. Once hot, add the onions and saute, stirring, until soft and translucent but not brown, about 5 minutes. Add the habanero chile peppers and saute until fragrant but not brown, about 1 more minute.

Raise heat to medium-high. Add the reconstituted porcinis and the fresh mushrooms. Season with sea salt. Cook, stirring, until the mushrooms sweat most of their liquid and deflate, about 10 minutes.

Add the brandy and, scrapping the bottom of the pan, deglaze.

Add the tomato paste. Stir to heat through, about 30 seconds.

Add the reserved mushroom liquid and chicken stock. Adjust heat as needed to bring to a simmer. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the liquid reduces and the mushrooms form a thick ragù, about 45 minutes.

Add the thyme and Italian parsley. Stir to incorporate. Taste and adjust sea salt.

Serve as a condimento to fresh pasta or polenta, garnished with Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese.

Maximilian Affair Cocktail

The last five years have witnessed a revival of sorts. The final decade of the 20th century was the worst among a succession lukewarm efforts in mixology. In many ways, the country that invented the cocktail never truly recovered from its failed experiment in Prohibition. The 1990s and early 2000s were a capstone of crap, with bartenders concocting ever sweeter swills of flavored vodka and bright, sugary mixer. Apple-flavored vodka and glowing-green apple syrup? An Appletini! Peach-flavored vodka, peach schnapps, peach syrup, and a floating cube of peach jello? No, thank you.

Times are changing. Vodka, neutral and boring, is stepping aside in favor of spirits with flavor, character, and a sense of place. Cocktails are crafted not to maximize sweetness, but to aim for balance. Bitters, the once all-but-forgotten key ingredient to the original cocktail, are making a return in numerous forms. Today, artisanal mixologists are crafting drinks both from the golden era of cocktails, before prohibition, and of their own creation.

Perhaps surprising, Boston (along with, not surprising, NYC) is at the forefront of the craft cocktail revival, starting with the greatly-missed B-Side Lounge, and carrying over to Green St, Craigie on Main, and Eastern Standard. These bars take cocktails seriously, with top-notch mixologists crafting quality drinks and providing excellent service. The ultimate manifestation of this might be Drink, in Boston's Fort Point neighborhood, a bar dedicated to craft cocktails and nothing else. They don't have a cocktail menu; your bartender works with you to find what you want. They make a lot of their inputs from scratch—visit and you might see folks squeezing fresh juices or stemming fresh herbs, many of which they grow themselves. I'm not even sure they have vodka.

One of Drink's top mixologists, Misty Kalkofen, has created what is surely an instant classic. Smokey mezcal is paired with addictive St-Germain, the spicy vermouth Punt e Mes, and a spot of lemon juice. This, the Maximilian Affair, is Misty's recipe.

Maximilian Affair Cocktail

At home, I make no changes to Misty's perfect recipe, but I do modify the presentation. Misty serves her creation in a cocktail glass, ungarnished. I prefer mine on the rocks, in an old fashioned glass, garnished with a lemon twist. The cocktail glass is fine, but I wouldn't deviate from authenticity if I felt the ice did not enhance the drink. Try both and you decide.

I am not the first to praise Misty's original creation, but as a Bostonian I was likely among the first to experience it. The drink is featured in Food & Wine's enjoyable Cocktails '09 as well as in a Journal article on the fortunate demise of vodka. Note the Journal article contains a Maximilian recipe that is changed from Misty's original; what follows is her precise proportions.

Makes 1 drink.

Ingredients:

1 ounce mezcal, preferably a smoky, single-village mezcal such as Del Maguey
1 ounce St-Germain elderflower liqueur
1/2 ounce Punt e Mes
1/4 ounce freshly-squeezed lemon juice
1 lemon twist, to garnish

Fill a cocktail shaker with large ice cubes. Add to the shaker the mezcal, St-Germain elderflower liqueur, Punt e Mes, and lemon juice. Shake vigorously for 15 seconds. Let the shaker rest until the outside starts to sweat.

Fill an old fashioned glass with large ice cubes. Strain the contents of the shaker into the glass. Garnish with a lemon twist. Enjoy.

Reading Recipes

The hardest part of this endeavor is transcribing what I cook into a recipe (conversely the most time consuming part is researching the history and ingredient information I put before the recipes, and the most annoying part is taking photos of food I hope to in fact eat).

Writing recipes has made me better at reading recipes, and I thought I'd share a few tips that should apply to not only my directions, but everyone's. These aren't the usual "do all your prep first" kindergarten obviousness, but aids in reading the recipe before you even begin.

Be aware of implied steps. My recipes have less of these than others, as I try to cover the details, not because I think you are an idiot and need to know how to cook pasta or blanche vegetables, but because I want a thorough and complete account of the recipe. Other recipes leave much more to inference. One thing I tend not spell out is cleaning your produce, but you still need to do it.

Measure the right stuff. There is a difference between the following two sets of ingredients. These:

1 pound green peas, shelled
1 cup Italian parsley, minced

Are different than these:

1 pound shelled green peas
1 cup minced Italian parsley

The first is a pound of green peas in their shell, which you are then to shell, and a cup of Italian parsley, which is about a handful, which you are then to mince. Conversely, the second is a pound of shelled green peas, almost double as many as in the first direction, and a cup of minced parsley, which is a staggering amount of herb.

Why do recipes employ both approaches? Usually for ease, sometimes for necessity. In this case, the first set of ingredients is easier to work with than the second. Asking for a pound of green peas in their shells gives you something you can weigh and measure at your market, before you start shelling. Similarly, asking for a cup of Italian parsley is a precise way of saying about a handful. Other times, it is necessity. I cannot request a 1/2 cup of cheddar cheese, which you then finely grate. But I can ask you to grate cheddar cheese until you have a half cup's worth.

Be mindful of adjectives. When I ask for finely-grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, its because that is the consistency I want for ideal mouthfeel, or because I feel a fine grate best incorporates the cheese into the dish. If your cheese is already grated, or you use a microplane and can only coarsely grate the cheese, you might decide not to comply. But note your proportions are thus going to be very far off if I measure by volume: A cup of finely-grated Parmigiano-Reggiano is three-to-four times as much cheese by weight as a cup of coarsely-grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. Adjust accordingly.

Aim for intent. Figure out what the recipes is aiming for and cook toward that aim, not the specific directions. For example, if you are making a puréed soup and a recipe calls for you to thin the blended vegetables with two cups of stock and that seems way too little for the amount of purée you have, then add a little more stock. The goal isn't to add two cups, but to add the right amount, which the recipe author believes is two cups. I try to use "about" in my recipes when the size of an input might vary. Similarly, try to deduce what the goal of each timed step is and worry about that, not the time it takes. I hate recipes that say "saute for 60 seconds." I always try to write my steps as "saute until fragrant, about 60 seconds." If you drop the garlic in the pan and your heat is too high and your garlic is minced too fine and it starts to turn color within 10 seconds, then move on to the next step.