Guide to Crafting a Recipe: Advice from Cup of Jo

Apart from “What should I cook for dinner?” the question I often receive when people discover my role as a cookbook author is “How do you create your recipes?” It’s an enigmatic process that I don’t completely grasp myself, yet here’s a tale that captures the most significant aspect, at least for me…

Last summer, just a few days after submitting the manuscript for my forthcoming cookbook, The Weekday Vegetarians: Get Simple, I received a call from my editor, Raquel. She was thrilled with what I had submitted so far, she mentioned, but “If we’re marketing this as a compilation of uncomplicated vegetarian dinners, it’s essential to add more sheet pan recipes.” Raquel has guided numerous cherished chefs and authors through the cookbook journey, and I’ve learned to trust her intuition without hesitation. Even though my book already contained a few sheet-pan recipes (including a corn-and-tomato sheet pan pizza I’ve been making repeatedly this week), she was undoubtedly correct — what could be easier than a meal that requires just one piece of cooking equipment? So, I made my way to the kitchen, donned my apron, and began my task.

Except, I didn’t. I kept getting distracted by other tasks. Or other dishes to prepare. Or I would flip through cookbooks and scroll through posts tagged with #sheetpan on Instagram, hoping for a flash of inspiration. There were countless recipes that could have served as fantastic starting points, yet, deep down in my dinner-loving heart, nothing resonated. No inspiration.

I should note that I’ve never attended culinary school. When someone refers to me as a “chef,” I feel a twinge of discomfort, quickly correcting them with “More like a home cook who writes!” as swiftly as possible. Even though The Weekday Vegetarians: Get Simple is my fifth cookbook, I still have many gaps in my cooking skills — I find myself watching YouTube videos on how to prep artichokes every time I muster the courage to cook with ones that aren’t canned, and seeing the term “yeast” in an ingredient list will always send chills down my spine, even though I’ve baked at least eight thousand no-knead breads since 2010. Once, I came across a Q&A with a very well-known cookbook author, and when the interviewer inquired about her recipe development method, she said something along the lines of, “First, I envision the dish, then I contemplate the unexpected flavor combinations, next I draft the recipe, and finally, I cook it repeatedly until it’s perfect.” I closed my laptop feeling a bit doubtful, wondering Am I a fraud?

I understand that I’m not, but my recipe development approach is entirely different. I see it more as a dialogue with people, or even an impromptu dance. The finest recipes in my new cookbook (and all my cookbooks, in fact) weren’t crafted in a controlled kitchen environment. They were largely invented spontaneously, in a real kitchen, while cooking for real people.

When my daughter needed an early meal before a late soccer practice, and a box of mushrooms next to a tub of miso drew my attention in the fridge, I came up with Miso-Mushroom Tacos with Pickled Cabbage. When a college friend of my other daughter dropped by for dinner unexpectedly, along with his notoriously hearty appetite, I frantically wrapped whatever vegetables and cheese I could find in a store-bought pie crust, resulting in Butternut Squash Galette with Feta and Chiles. When being cooped up during quarantine led to a new family custom — crepe breakfasts — that eventually prompted me to ask the remnants of the crisper drawer “Why not have crepes for dinner as well?” I created Buckwheat Crepes with Roasted Vegetables and Goat Cheese. When I spent time with my father a few months before he passed away, and he was too weary and frail to do much more than sit in a kitchen chair and keep me company, while I rummaged through the fridge trying to assemble something appetizing for my parents’ dinner, I made Crispy Pan-Fried Gnocchi with Peas, Mint, and Pecorino. In all these instances, I noted the recipes afterward, feeling that vital intersection of simple and special (the sweet spot!), and then re-tested each before approving for the cookbook.

Clearly, to be able to generate ideas “on the fly” necessitates a vast mental repository of flavors and techniques swimming in my subconscious — the outcome of perusing all the newest cookbooks sent to me because I’m fortunate enough to pursue food writing as a career, reading newsletters from my talented recipe-writing peers, and drawing inspiration from my friends’ dinner gatherings and restaurants around the globe. However, when I reflect on my favorite recipes, the ones I take the most pride in, the ones I know I’ll recreate repeatedly, I recall a little note displayed on a restaurant chalkboard in Rome: Pensando a qualcuno se no stai semplicemente preparando da mangiare, or: You always think of someone when cooking, otherwise you are just making food.

Incidentally, I eventually came up with more sheet pan recipes. And I must say, they are fantastic!

Miso-Mushroom Tacos
From The Weekday Vegetarians: Get Simple
Serve these tacos alongside white rice tossed with lime juice and finely chopped cilantro.

1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
3 tablespoons neutral oil or olive oil, plus more if needed
20 ounces mushrooms, any variety, stems trimmed, sliced
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
3 tablespoons sweet white miso
1 teaspoon Sriracha
2 tablespoons hot water
8 (5-inch) corn tortillas or hard taco shells
6 medium scallions, white and light-green parts only, minced
Rice Vinegar-Pickled Cabbage (recipe follows), for serving

In a large skillet, heat the sesame and neutral oil over medium heat. Add half the mushrooms and sauté until they’ve released most of their moisture, then incorporate the remaining mushrooms, mixing them in. Cook for a total of 8 to 10 minutes. Add the onion, along with a drizzle of oil (if required), and cook until soft, around 4 to 5 minutes. Meanwhile, in a small bowl or measuring cup, whisk together the miso, sriracha, and hot water until the mixture reaches a ketchup-like consistency. Stir the miso mixture into the mushrooms, and then take them off the heat.

Preheat the oven to 350°F. If using hard taco shells, arrange them on a sheet pan and heat in the oven for 5 minutes. If using corn tortillas, place each tortilla over a gas burner for 10 seconds on each side until slightly charred. (Alternatively, warm each in a nonstick or cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat.) Remove and keep warm under a tent of foil.

When ready to serve, fill each taco shell or tortilla with about 1⁄3 cup of the mushroom mixture, then crown with the scallions and pickled cabbage.

Rice Vinegar–Pickled Cabbage
In a sturdy medium saucepan, combine 1/3 cup vinegar, 3 tablespoons sugar, 2 teaspoons salt, and 2½ cups water and bring to a boil over high heat, stirring occasionally. Once the sugar has dissolved, add 3 cups of shredded cabbage (I prefer red, but you can use any type: green, Napa, savoy) and pepper flakes, then lower the heat to simmer, uncovered, until the cabbage shreds are wilted, approximately 4 minutes. After that, remove the pan from the heat and let it cool to room temperature. You can use the pickled cabbage right away or store it in an airtight container for up to 7 days.

P.S. An effortless strata for breakfast, being a weekday vegetarian, and five recipes worth memorizing.

(Photos by Christine Han.)