This is how I framed Genius Recipes when I launched it 
as a weekly column on Food52 in June 2011. In the years since, the definition 
really hasn’t changed: These recipes are about reworking what we’ve been taught 
and skipping past all the canonical versions to a smarter way.
For example, if you were to look to a classical text or 
cooking class, you’d probably think you’d need to truss and flip and baste a 
chicken as you’re roasting it. And there’s nothing necessarily wrong with any of 
that—you will probably get a good dinner out of the exercise. But Barbara Kafka, 
in writing the cookbook Roasting: A Simple Art in 
1995, perfected roasting everything, from mackerel to 
turkeys to cucumbers. She puts chicken in the oven, legs akimbo, at a raging 
500°F (260°C), then hardly touches it. Hers is the juiciest roast chicken I’ve 
tasted, and has the crispiest skin, without fussing—so why would you?
This book is full of happy discoveries like this roast 
chicken, drawn from the experience of the best cookbook authors, chefs, and 
bloggers around. No one cook could have taught us so much. From historic voices 
in food like Marcella Hazan, Julia Child, and James Beard to modern giants like 
Ignacio Mattos and Kim Boyce, we’ve learned that making something better doesn’t 
mean doing more work—and oftentimes, it means doing less. If you look to the 
people who’ve spent their careers tinkering with these dishes, they’ll often 
show you a better way to make them.
Here in this collection are more than one hundred of the 
most surprising and essential genius recipes. Some are greatest hits from the 
column that keep inspiring new conversations and winning new fans. I also dug up 
a bunch more recipes, like Marion Cunningham’s famous 
yeasted overnight waffles and Dorie Greenspan’s apple cake 
with more apples than cake, to stock our kitchens and keep us 
cooking and talking. You’ll also find new tips and variations and a good number 
of mini-recipes alongside the full-length ones. These genius ideas were simple 
enough to distill into a paragraph or two and made the collection whole. My hope 
is that this book, held all together, can act as an alternative kitchen 
education of sorts.
Some of the recipes are already legends: If you’ve been 
reading about food for a while, you’ve probably already heard of the tomato sauce with 
butter and onion, the no-knead bread, the one-ingredient 
ice cream. I love sharing these on Food52, because it seems everyone has an 
opinion and a good story to tell.
A handful of others are tricks I stumbled across myself: 
The oddball 
ingredient I saw when I trailed in the kitchen at Le Bernardin. The simple 
carnitas I found in an old Diana Kennedy cookbook when I was missing the 
burritos at home in California. The winning ratatouille after 
I tested four in a day. The dessert served at the 
James Beard Awards that Melissa Clark posted on Instagram—watch out, world: I’m 
paying attention!
But if we had to rely on me, Genius Recipes would have 
been a nice little series that would have petered out long ago—and it surely 
wouldn’t have evolved into a book. I’d hoped I would have help finding the gems, 
since the spirit of better cooking through community has always driven Food52. 
But I couldn’t have known that the tips would just keep coming—that the majority 
of the recipes I would gather, and the most unexpectedly brilliant ones, would 
come from emails and tweets and conversations with the Food52 community, fellow 
staffers, and other writers, editors, and friends.
I wouldn’t have looked twice at a soup made of 
cauliflower, an onion, and a whole lot of water. And broccoli cooked forever 
is almost daring you not to. But cooks from Food52 said these were worthy of 
genius status, and they were right. Genius Recipes is proof of the power of 
crowd-sourcing and curation, but also of listening and trusting other cooks. 
Even though many of these recipes have been around for years, some for decades, 
only now can we gather and share them so quickly.
I hope you will use the recipes in a number of ways. Some 
may become formulas (I don’t make roast chicken or guacamole or oatmeal any 
other way anymore). But others, I hope, will be jumping-off points. Maybe you’ll 
make the kale 
panini just as written, then next time you’ll use collards or whatever 
greens you have, or start making just the quick pickled peppers to keep around. 
As soon as you make the olive oil and maple 
granola once, if you’re like the legions of commenters on Food52, you’ll 
start tweaking it and making it your own.
Please do, and the next time you discover something 
genius, let me know.

 
 
 
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