The resulting dish was wonderful, rich, layered flavors and sensual melting textures, further proof, if I still needed it, that food - almost any food - always tastes better when cooked in clay.Įarly in my career, when I was catering parties in New York, I prepared Spanish dishes for wealthy twins who lived on Fifth Avenue. The tripe cooked so slowly and evenly that when she uncovered the pot, it fell apart at the touch of a fork. Oddly, I’ve used it only once for tripe, until, this last year, when San Francisco chef Loretta Keller, who collects clay tripieres, came to my house in Sonoma to cook with me. Somehow it survived numerous moves, to Europe, Morocco and the East and West coasts, always beautiful and always producing soft and exceedingly rich beef stews. Back then I had no idea what tripe was, but the shape of the pot fascinated me, and so I bought it for its beauty. The sales clerk told me it was used to cook tripe. She sent me to a French restaurant supply store in lower Manhattan where my eyes immediately fell upon an odd-looking, low, pot-bellied, earthenware vessel with a tiny covered opening. I bought my first clay pot at age 19, just weeks after starting cooking lessons with legendary cooking teacher Dione Lucas. Here, in no particular order, are a few of them:

I like to say that every pot in my collection tells a story. I love the way these pots tie me to traditions, deep-rooted ways of cooking, and add flavor and finesse to my food. or want to own.Īnd I have more than 100 clay pots of every size in my kitchen to prove it: Moroccan tagines, Provencal daubieres, Spanish cazuelas, Italian bean pots, Turkish guvecs and even ceramic colanders, including one I use to steam couscous. I don’t think I’ve ever met a clay cooking pot I didn’t like.

Shrimp with ritz cracker topping