In pursuit of flavor

SPRING AND SUMMER COOKBOOKs are different from their fall and winter siblings, the big-name ones who get all the airtime. The authors' names might be new, but their voices are strong and independent. They remind me of how the legendary cookbook author Madhur Jaffrey, speaking at the recent women's food conference Cherry Bombe Jubilee, described her childhood: Because she was a girl, and since her sister was prettier, her parents let her run wild to satisfy her creative curiosity, thereby allowing her to become the significant person she is today. And so, as 1 read and cooked through this season's assortment of outliers, 1 was thrilled to get to know so many bright minds and brilliant palates, to be introduced to cultures and techniques that hadn't been front-burnered in my kitchen. Israeli food has been celebrated since Yotam Ottolenghi came on the scene over a decade ago. The culinary traditions of Palestine? Not so much. While working on a human rights campaign in Israel's West Bank in 2009, Yasmin Khan found that the difficulty of the days spent in refugee camps relented at night when she was welcomed to local tables to sample bowls of thick hummus and smoky eggplant spiked with peppery olive oil, vibrant herb salads and fresh, sharply flavorful dishes - so flavorful that they lured Khan from her home in London back to Israel and the West Bank to learn more about the recipes and realities of life for the millions of Palestinians living there, not to mention the millions who make up the world's largest refugee population. ZAITOUN: Recipes From the Palestinian Kitchen (Norton, $29.95) is valuable not just for the dishes Khan learned from local women and translated from restaurant meals - be they a warm salad of maftoul (a plump kind of couscous) with za'atar chicken, Gazan lentils with Swiss chard and tahini, or turnovers made from a very forgiving yogurt-enriched dough and stuffed with spinach, feta, pine nuts and sumac - but for the heartfelt portrait she so deftly paints of this shattered but resilient region. Caroline Eden was also marked by a trip east - in this case, by her first glimpse of the Black Sea from a Ttirkish bus when she journeyed overland from London to Tbilisi, her idea of a summer holiday. The sea's surrounding regions became an obsession for this journalist, who specializes in writing about the former Soviet Union. She sought out remnants of trade routes, hidden stories and what the cities' foodways could tell us about today's communities. The resulting book, BLACK SEA: Dispatches and Recipes Through Darkness and Light (Quadrille/Hardie Grant, $35), IS a powerful new hybrid, a beautifully written travelogue with recipes and photographs. It's meant to be savored from start to finish, with the recipes serving not to provide a menu for your next party but as edible snapshots that bring to life places steeped in history and tradition. Even if your interest in journeying from Odessa through Romania and Bulgaria, then on to Istanbul and Trabzon is low, Eden's blazing talent and unabashedly greedy curiosity will have you strapped in beside her. Her writing is so seductive, you'll soon be making the recipes, which come from locals as well as her imagination: Romanian breakfast polenta, Ttirkish "trolley" kebabs and Bulgarian poached apricots steeped in rose water. If Sybille Bedford or Patrick Leigh Fermor had included a few recipes in their accounts of their journeys, you'd know exactly where to shelve this gem. Gabriela Cámara is a modern chef: Not only is she inspired by her country's regional cuisines, she also takes an ingredient-led approach to cooking with freshness and simplicity. It's hard to overstate the importance of Contramar, the Mexico City restaurant she co-founded in her early 20s, inspired by the food served at Mexico's beachside seafood restaurants. In her debut cookbook, my Mexico CITY KITCHEN: Recipes and Convictions (Lorena Jones/Ten Speed, $35), written with Malena Watrous, Cámara shares recipes for the dishes that made her famous - grilled butterflied red snapper as Mexican flag, one half painted with a green parsley-garlic sauce, the other with a charred red salsa; tostadas topped with soy-marinated raw tuna, avocado and frizzled leeks with chipotle mayo - as well as the traditional dishes that make Mexico such a destination for today's gastronauts. Should you put in the time to make salsa-drowned carnitas sandwiches or red mole from Tepoztlán? You'll be glad you did (eventually). There are also creative weeknight dishes, like clams with Serrano chiles and mezcal. These recipes reflect Camara's vibrancy, magpie intellect and respect for the traditions that made her success possible. Mothers who adapted their native country's traditions to the reality of American supermarkets are to thank for two exciting and accessible new books. The New York Times food writer Priya Krishna wrote indian(-ish): Recipes and Antics From a Modern American Family (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, $28) with her mom, Ritu, a software programmer who, when not managing the code-writing team that made airport check-in kiosks possible, was trying to meld the dishes she watched her grandmother make in India with her Dallas-born daughters' demands for peanut-butterand-jelly sandwiches and spaghetti. And so they give us recipes for pizza made with a roti or tortilla crust and topped with cilantro chutney and shredded Cheddar cheese, toast with almond butter and the crunchy snack mix chat masala and cheesy chile broccoli, alongside streamlined but high-impact recipes for saag paneer (use feta!), chickpea and tomato stew (use canned chickpeas, duh) and dal updated with caramelized onions. Krishna's high-energy social-media tone and her "outlandish tales and lack of shame" - there's an "overly generalized guide to making the Indian food in this book" - might rankle the traditionalists, but to anyone under 30 they signal the arrival of a smart supernova. Andrea Nguyen fled Vietnam with her family in the 1970s, arriving in California. Her mom's supermarket hacks included using Swans Down cake flour to make steamed rice rolls. Today, rice flour, coconut milk and fish sauce can be found with fairly minimal effort, but Vietnamese dishes still intimidate many home cooks. Vietnamese FOOD ANY DAY: Simple Recipes for True, Fresh Flavors (Ten Speed, $24.99) is a welcome entry point, offering recipes and tips that will have you making if not authentic, then authentically delicious Vietnamese dishes in very little time. With writing as clear and zippy as the flavors she describes, Nguyen is the ideal guide, pragmatic and supportive, always ready with a clever twist. I got home at 5 and served a guest addictively crispy roasted cauliflower "wings" with homemade chile garlic sauce, grilled lemongrass pork chops with nuoc cham dipping sauce, vibrant turmeric coconut rice and spicy broccoli and herb slaw with lime-chile vinaigrette by 7:30. I was surprised; my guest was impressed. I'm looking forward to tackling sausage-jicama rice paper rolls, smoked turkey pho and spicy-sweet pomegranate tofu on weeknights to come. Weeknight tofu is definitely a thing, as more cooks are putting plant-based protein at the center of the plate. In fact, I could have reviewed only vegetable/vegetarian/ vegan cookbooks this season. It was hard to choose, but I can tell these next two will still be in my kitchen next spring. Anna Jones's weekly "Modern Cook" recipes in The Guardian inspire Brits to look to lentils. Her creative dishes provide a multicultural journey through a highly personal lens. THE MODERN COOK'S YEAR (Abrams, $40) is the former Jamie Oliver collaborator's seasonal collection. She grates carrots into a quick dal that thrums with flavor and warmth. Kimchi and miso noodle soup comes together quickly and deliciously, though 1 went for extra credit and made the kimchi too - her recipe for mild green apple and white miso kimchi is a new staple. And that tomato tarte Tatin.... There are pretty, comforting desserts like a fig, dark chocolate and banana cake, and helpful flavor maps that outline the basics of, say, soups, flatbreads and sheetpan dinners so you can freestyle. Jones writes about cooking and eating with mindfulness - perhaps the most important "recipe" in this lovely book, ft's the kind you want to dip into and rediscover each and every season. Meanwhile, in America, Jeanine Donofrio has been racking up fnstagram followers with her sunny, kinda-vegan food and super-positive vibes, love & lemons every day (Avery, $35) is about, as she describes it, "everyday cooking, a little bit elevated." She breezily strikes that tricky balance between sophisticated and widely accessible. She'll have you eagerly grilling romaine wedges to toss in a vegan cashew Caesar dressing and simmering butternut squash and potatoes to blend - with more cashews - into a loaded queso. (Yes, you get to have tortilla chips.) Crispedged flatbreads made from chickpea flour are topped with an herby spinach-cilantro spread and spring vegetables. Sweet potatoes? They go into the frosting on a (whole wheat, vegan) chocolate cake. And if you're new to transforming broccoli or cauliflower stems into "rice," turning zucchini or radishes into noodles or putting those beet greens, carrot tops and cilantro stems somewhere other than in the garbage, this is your gateway to zero-waste cooking (i.e., the future). Good thing it's delicious. When it comes to getting nonhipster Americans to turn toward plant-forward cooking, my money's on Donofrio. If the dad in your family isn't ready to grill cauliflower steaks this Father's Day, get him franklin steak: Dry-Aged, Live-Fired, Pure Beef (Ten Speed, $29.99). To say that Aaron Franklin, the man responsible for the line that forms outside Austin's Franklin BBQ before dawn, and his co-author, Jordan Mackay, go deep on steak is a grave understatement: They don't get to the actual grilling until nearly the end of the book. How could they, when there's so much to understand about what goes into a perfectly cooked steak? The beef, the butcher, the grill, the fuel, the salt, the time (that applies to both dry-aging at home and how long you should let the steak rest after cooking). Franklin and Mackay ask every question, try every cut, explore every technique and even weld their own hybrid hibachi. This is meat-nerdery at its best, its extensive scientific research couched in casual, friendly prose that will make you a legend in your own backyard. More than a cookbook, this is #meatgoals. First the steak, then the cake. And cookies. And pie. On the easy end of the baking spectrum, Odette Williams's SIMPLE CAKE: All You Need to Keep Your Friends and Family in Cake (Ten Speed, $23) offers a lovely roster of cakes and toppings that you can mix-and-match to suit the sweet occasion. You can whip up a coconut cake in under an hour and eat it as-is, or you can fold raspberries into the batter, drizzle it with a coconut glaze or turn it into cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. This is no-stress baking (remember that?) you'll still want to Instagram. If pastries are part of your Instagram feed, you probably know Nicole Rucker. One of the most talented young pastry chefs in Los Angeles, she's created sweets for Gjusta, CoFax Coffee, Rucker's Pie and her new spot, Fiona, that are 21st-century gold. Her delightful creations for dappled: Baking Recipes for Fruit Lovers (Avery, $30, available in early July) toggle between perfected American classics (July Flame peach pie, apple brown Betty) and modern inventions (fermented banana cake, rhubarb coffee cake with browned butter streusei, and rich raspberry halvah brownies that genuinely raise the bar). Although you'll envy Rucker's access to L.A.'s heirloom fruit, seemingly available year-round, there's much to celebrate in this book, even when you're locked into a Northeastern winter. The arrival of Maida Heatter's happiness is baking: Favorite Desserts From the Queen of Cake (Little, Brown, $27) couldn't be better timed. "Maida Heatter?" you ask. "Isn't she 100 years old by now?" She's 102, thank you for asking, and still baking up a storm in Miami Beach, Fla. This collection of her greatest hits will remind you why she inspired the likes of Martha Stewart and Dorie Greenspan: While personable and funny, Heatter is relentless in her quest for perfection. These are recipes to read closely, and not just for her delightful borscht belt humor. ("I have received love letters and a variety of proposals and propositions all because of this cake. Watch out," she warns in the headnote for her Budapest coffee cake.) This is a woman who italicizes sifted before flour on every ingredient list - IN CASE YOU DIDN'T GET HER POINT - and marches you through every step, which she doubtless fretted over for decades. Even the recipes that feel retro (for those who remember the '80s mania for David's Cookies) are more than ready for their return, be it "The Best Damn Lemon Cake," Palm Beach brownies with chocolate-covered mints or Charlie Brown ice cream sundaes. How lucky that a new generation will get to know the sweet genius of Maida Heatter. These days, we could all use a dazzling grandmother to tell us that everything is going to be all right - or, at the very least, our skinny peanut wafers will. The reissue of Edna Lewis's in pursuit of flavor (Knopf, $29.95), written with Mary Goodbody, is also reassuring and perfectly timed. Over a decade ago, after I had hunted down an out-of-print copy of Lewis's first cookbook, "The Taste of Country Cooking," published in 1976 (and now available in an anniversary edition), I marveled at the prescience of her philosophy of seasonal food, as seen through the lens of Southern cooking. Growing up in a Virginia farming community founded by her grandfather and his friends after their emancipation, Lewis and her family savored the flavors of the moment or preserved them for when the fields lay fallow. Even after she moved to New York and became a well-known chef, her desire to honor the essence of an ingredient never wavered, whether it was pan-frying quail or baking a soufflé. And she always kept a piece of country ham around. This book, which first appeared in 1988, also focuses on recipes from her childhood. Lewis's food is both subtle and elegant, made with the confidence and grace that arose from over a half-century in the kitchen. A recipe for watercress soup initially seems off - you infuse chicken stock with chopped onion and watercress, then strain it, discarding the watercress and onions, and adding fresh watercress leaves and heavy cream, with a spoonful of whipped cream dolloped on before serving. Clear and focused, it's the essence of spring. Duck, which you've hung in a closet or cellar overnight to dry the skin, is stuffed with wild rice and oysters, no sauce required. Okra is stirred into buttery whipped cornmeal until it all but disappears. And Damson plum preserves find a worthy home in a flaky lard crust. Even 30 years later, Edna Lewis, like Maida Heatter, teaches us that "good food simply and lovingly prepared" will never go out of style, while reminding us that the passionate pursuit of flavor can make for one hell of a life. CHRISTINE MUHLKE, a former editor at Bon Appetit and T: The New York Times Style Magazine, is the founder of the Xtine newsletter. ONLINE: Don't mind the heat and can't bear to get out of the kitchen? For a quick look at 30 more cookbooks, visit nytimes.com/books.

""There has been a reemergence of traditional ways and cooking good old-fashioned food in this country, and it started with Miss Lewis many years ago,"" writes Savannah chef Mashama Bailey in her new foreword for this iconic cookbook, originally published in 1988, from the revered and groundbreaking chef. In her introduction, Lewis (1916-2006) credits her upbringing in a small Virginia farm town and the ""great care"" her mother took in preparing meals with giving her an ability and appreciation for capturing foods' best tastes, in season. She begins with seasonally organized vegetable recipes before moving to meat and fish dishes. Whether as simple as sautéed bananas or as complicated as a crown roast, preparations include Lewis' detailed directions, notes, and sidebars about ingredients and techniques. Many recipes for canning, pickling, and preserving make out-of-season flavors available year-round before dozens of breads and desserts close the collection. Sprinkled with charming line drawings from the original text, this innovative, inspiring, and refreshing call for ""good food simply and lovingly prepared"" belongs in every cookbook collection.--Annie Bostrom Copyright 2010 Booklist

Potatoes Baked with Virginia Ham SERVES 4 Potatoes are one of the few vegetables that are good in all seasons--although in the summer when they are freshly dug from the garden, they taste especially delicious. Besides the familiar varieties such as Idaho, russet, and cobbler, there are new kinds of potatoes in the markets. Most have similar flavor and some, such as small explorer potatoes, can be added whole and unpeeled to soups and stews. Recently I found a yellow potato at New York's Greenmar­ket that had a slightly different texture and a heartier flavor than most white potatoes. I have also tried blue-skinned potatoes, which look pretty and taste just about the same as any other potato. Use any white potato for this recipe, which makes a good supper dish.   ½ clove garlic 2 tablespoons melted butter 5 medium potatoes, peeled and sliced Salt Freshly ground black pepper 2 tablespoons finely chopped parsley 2 cups julienned Virginia ham 2 cups heavy cream ½ cup bread crumbs   1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. 2. Crush the garlic and stir it with 1 tablespoon of the melted butter. Rub an 8-inch square pan, 2 inches deep, with the butter. Layer the potatoes in the pan and season them lightly with salt, pepper, and some chopped parsley. Next, sprinkle a handful of ham over the potatoes. Repeat the layering until the pan is full and the top layer is potatoes. Add the cream, which should be nearly level with the top layer of potatoes. 3. Cover and bake for 45 minutes. Toss the bread crumbs with the other tablespoon of melted butter. Take the pan from the oven and distribute the bread crumbs evenly over the potatoes. Continue baking, uncovered, for 5 to 10 minutes, until the bread crumbs are browned.   Black-eyed Peas in Tomato and Onion Sauce SERVES 4 A few years ago I decided to try cooking black-eyed peas this way instead of with a piece of pork, as everyone else does. I think the tomatoes and onions, garlic and parsley and olive oil give the peas a real interesting flavor--which, after all, they need. Black-eyed peas are a little dull, as are all dried beans.   1 cup black-eyed peas 4 cups cold water ½ cup high-quality light olive oil One medium onion (about 6 ounces), chopped ½ teaspoon crushed garlic 1¾ cups tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and cut into pieces Salt and pepper to taste 2 tablespoons finely chopped parsley   1. To prepare, pick over the peas, removing the discolored ones or stones that are often found. Wash in cold water and then place in a large pot with the water. (The peas will expand and cook more uniformly if they are not crowded in the pot.) Cook over medium-high heat for 30 minutes, then test the peas. If they are tender but still firm and have no raw taste, drain them and immediately run cold water over to stop the cooking and keep them from falling apart. Drain and set aside until needed. (If they are not quite ready, cook them for another 10 minutes and test them again. Depending on how dried out they are, black-eyed peas cook at different rates. Do not overcook them--they will cook a bit more once they are in the sauce. They should be served whole in the sauce and not mushy.) 2. Heat a 9-inch skillet until hot, then add the olive oil. Add the onion, sauté a minute, then add the garlic and the prepared tomatoes, and cook the mixture slowly for 30 minutes. Stir often during cooking. Add the black-eyed peas, mix well, and season with salt and pepper--the peas should be well seasoned. Cook gently for 10 minutes more, then add the parsley. Spoon the beans into a casserole and set in a warm place until ready to serve. The dish can be reheated in the oven. Serve hot but not overcooked.   Panfried Quail with Country Ham SERVES 4 Quail are delightful little birds that you never have to worry about being tough. If you buy them fresh, let them age for a day or two to tenderize them. Quail are getting easier and easier to find in supermarkets and local butcher shops, and although many are sold frozen and are quite good, they are best fresh. You can also buy them from game bird farms that raise them for home buyers and restaurants. As with pheasant, I usually ask the butcher or game bird farmer to leave the feathers on the bird and the innards intact because this improves their flavor as they age. But most cooks would probably want to have the birds plucked and cleaned, which certainly is easier and does not make such a difference in flavor that I would advise against it.   I sauté quail on top of the stove in a covered pan to keep them moist, but they also do well roasted, if covered. Quail are good to make for guests because they "hold" in the pan for 15 or 20 minutes without drying out, which gives you time to get the rest of the meal organized. For this dish I call for fresh white grape juice, which adds good tart flavor. Fresh grape juice is simple to make if you have a vegetable mill or potato ricer, but do not try to make it in a blender. The blender does not extract the juice, it just purées the fruit.   1 cup white grapes (to make ¼-⅓ cup grape juice) 2 teaspoons salt ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 1 teaspoon dried thyme leaves 8 quail, split and flattened ½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter ½ pound Virginia ham, cut into 2 by ¼-inch matchsticks   1. First, make the fresh white grape juice. Crush the cup of grapes with a pestle, then put through a sieve or vegetable mill to extract the juice, or use a potato ricer. 2. Combine the salt, pepper, and thyme, crushing the thyme with your finger­tips. Sprinkle both sides of the birds with the seasonings. 3. Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat until it foams and just begins to brown. Add the quail, skin side down. Sprinkle with ham, cover, and cook for 3 to 4 minutes, until the skin is golden brown. Turn the birds and continue cooking, covered, until the juices run clear, about 4 minutes longer. Take the pan from the heat and let the quail rest, covered, for about 10 minutes. Arrange the quail on a platter and sprinkle the ham from the pan over them. 4. Pour the fat from the pan. Add the grape juice (you can also use water, if you prefer), and bring to a boil. Cook for 1 minute, scraping the browned bits from the bottom to deglaze the pan. Pour over the quail and serve.   Red Snapper with Olive Mayonnaise SERVES 4 Red snapper is one of my favorite fish, but I find it tastes different depend­ing on where it is caught. The snapper from the Gulf of Mexico does not have exactly the same flavor as the snapper caught off the Carolina coast and while both are good, I prefer the Gulf fish. The flesh of Gulf snapper is a little darker. Both are meaty, tasty fish that lose their bright red color during cook­ing. I like to cook them quickly after they have marinated in lemon juice for about an hour. I think the fast cooking in a hot skillet really brings out the good flavor of snapper. Black olive purée is sold in jars in Italian markets and specialty stores, but if you can't find it you can make your own by puréeing pitted Mediterranean black olives.   2 pounds red snapper, bones removed and split in half Juice of ½ to 1 lemon 6 tablespoons butter ½ teaspoon chopped garlic ½ cup mayonnaise 2 tablespoons puréed Mediterranean olives   1. Put the snapper in a glass or ceramic dish cut side up, and squeeze the juice of half a lemon over the fish. You may need to use a whole lemon, depending on the size of the fish and the lemon. Leave the fish to marinate at room tempera­ture for 1 hour, spooning lemon juice over it now and again. 2. Preheat the oven to 425°F. 3. Heat the butter in a heavy ovenproof skillet until foaming. Add the garlic before the butter browns. When the butter begins to brown, put the fish in the pan, cut side down. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes over high heat, until nicely browned. Turn the fish over and put the entire pan in the hot oven. Cook for about 8 minutes, until flaky but not overcooked. Combine the mayonnaise with the puréed olives and additional lemon juice to taste. Serve this with the hot fish.   Benne Seed Biscuits Benne seeds, which are also known as sesame seeds, were brought to America long ago with the Africans. Their name derives from the Benue State of Nige­ria. The Nigerian name for this seed is beni. Slaves planted them at the ends of crop rows and around their small cabins and used them in much of their cooking. They are still extremely popular in the South and turn up in recipes for cereals, breads, cookies, and biscuits. I think their flavor is best when they are toasted, and short of burning them, the longer you toast them, the better they are. These crisp little biscuits go well with cocktails, pâtés, and soups, or anytime you would want a cracker.   1 cup benne seeds 3 cups flour 1½ teaspoons single-acting baking powder 1 teaspoon salt ⅔ cup lard ⅔ cup milk Salt   1. Preheat the oven to 425°F. 2.  Put the benne seeds in a shallow pan in the preheated oven. Look at them after 5 minutes to check on the color--they should be the color of butter­scotch and they should have a delicious toasted smell. If not ready, shake the pan and return them to the oven for 1 to 2 minutes--but watch carefully. 3. Sift the flour, baking powder, and salt into a large bowl. Add the lard and work the mixture with a pastry blender or your fingertips until it has the tex­ture of cornmeal. Add the milk and mix well. Mix in the benne seeds. Place the dough on a floured surface, knead for a few seconds, and shape into a ball. Roll the dough out until it is about the thickness of a nickel. Using a 2-inch biscuit cutter, stamp out rounds and lay them on an ungreased baking sheet or a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Bake for about 12 minutes, until lightly browned. Remove from the oven, sprinkle with a little bit of salt, and serve hot. You may store the cooled biscuits in an airtight tin or jar and reheat them before serving.   Raspberry Pie Garnished with Whipped Cream For this pie, you need 3 pints of raspberries, because raspberries cook down so much. The juice from the berries is used as a glaze and the whole thing is pretty and sweet and really delicious, especially when served with whipped cream. I specify organic raspberries simply because I think they taste better.   When I make the buttery crust that I think tastes best with light-tasting fruits and berries, I do something that might be too fussy for most cooks. You don't have to do it, but it makes a nice crust. I chop up the butter, put it in the freezer, and let it get really frozen. I then take 1 cup of flour and cut in the frozen butter, mixing it in well--you have to work really fast before the but­ter softens too much. When this mixture is fine enough, similar to cornmeal, I add the rest of the flour and proceed with the recipe. The crust is nice and light and good with berry and lemon meringue pies.     BUTTER PIE PASTRY 2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour Scant teaspoon salt 12 tablespoons (1½ sticks) firmly chilled or frozen butter, cut into small pieces ¼ cup ice water   PIE FILLING 3 pints raspberries, organic if possible ½ cup sugar About 1 cup sweetened whipped cream   9-inch pie plate   1. To make the pie pastry: Put the flour, salt, and butter in a mixing bowl. Blend well with a pastry blender or the tips of your fingers, until the mixture is the texture of cornmeal. Add the ice water, mix quickly, and shape the dough into a ball. Dust the dough lightly with flour and shape into a flat cake. Wrap in wax paper and put in the refrigerator to rest for 30 minutes. 2. Preheat the oven to 425°F. 3. Remove the dough from the refrigerator and divide it into 2 unequal pieces. Roll the larger piece out and press it into a 9-inch pie dish; trim the edges. Roll out the second piece of dough into a 7-inch circle and trim the edges in a zigzag design. Stamp out a 2-inch circle from the center of the top crust, using a round cookie cutter. Put the top crust in a pie plate and bake for 12 to 15 minutes. Lift the crust from the pie plate and cool on a wire rack. 4. Before baking the bottom shell, prick the surface without piercing all the way through to the pie plate. This will prevent the pastry from puffing up. Check the pastry after 10 minutes of baking. Prick any puffed‑up places and continue to cook until lightly browned. Cool before filling. 5. To make the filling: Pick the raspberries over, looking for any moldy ones or stems. Do not wash the berries or they will become soggy. Put the berries in a wide ovenproof dish in a single layer. Sprinkle 3 tablespoons of the sugar over them and set them in a preheated 375°F. oven for 12 to 13 minutes. This should be time enough for the berries to bleed and give out the right amount of juice. 6. Remove the berries from the oven and cool. Then lift each berry onto another dish and scrape the juice from the ovenproof dish into a stainless steel saucepan. Add the remaining sugar and set the pan over a medium burner. Cook for 12 to 13 minutes, until the juice is reduced to a thick syrup. Remove this from the stove and hold until you are ready to assemble the pie. 7. Brush the bottom of the cooled pie shell with some of the heavy syrup. Line the shell with a single layer of raspberries. Reserve 8 or 9 berries. Pile up the rest of the raspberries in the shell to make a thick pie. Spoon the syrup glaze over the berries, making sure to coat all of them. Position the pastry top over the berries. Fill in the stamped-out center with the reserved berries and spoon glaze over them. Serve sweetened whipped cream on the side. Excerpted from In Pursuit of Flavor by Edna Lewis All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.