Clay pots are incredible for slow-cooked meals. Because wet clay doesn’t get as hot as metal, the pot helps you keep your braise down at a low simmer, which makes the texture of the food more luscious in the end. On the other hand, the heavy clay holds heat very well, and you may find yourself turning the heat down in order to keep the contents cooking as slowly as you like.

Because clay is porous, you should avoid using soap when cleaning your clay pots. This also allows them to become seasoned through repeated use, and some people claim that food cooked in an older, well-seasoned clay pot tastes noticably better than food cooked in a newer vessel. None of my clay pots are really old enough for me to test this proposition yet, but I’ll be sure to give you an update in a few years.

There is one important rule that applies when cooking with any clay pot, and that is: sudden changes in temperature can cause clay pots to break.

Every nuance of clay pot cooking is an extension of this simple fact. Here are few examples of what that rule means in a practical sense:

1. Never place a clay pot on a hot stove - instead, place it on a cold stove, and make sure it has some sort of liquid inside it before you turn the heat on under it.

2. Never heat a clay pot too quickly - turn the heat on to its lowest setting, using a flame tamer if need be to keep the heat down low. You can raise the heat over time, but if you do that too quickly, you may damage the pot.

3. Never place a hot clay pot onto a cold surface - Use a thick, folded dishtowel instead of a metal trivet to keep both your pot and your table safe.

4. If you store leftovers in a clay pot in the fridge, bring it to room temperature before putting it on the stove to reheat. I prefer to store leftovers in tupperware, so that I can reheat them more efficiently, with or without a clay pot.

Now, here a few specific examples of clay pots I own, where to find them, how to treat them, and why you might want to use them.

Tagine

I am deeply in love with Moroccan cuisine, so my tagine is one of my most treasured clay pots. With a round, shallow base and a tall, conical lid, it is perfect for making Moroccan stews (also called tagines). The idea seems to be that the steam from the food rises to the cooler top of the lid and condenses there, more quickly than it can in a vessel with a lower lid. The condensed steam then drips back down to rejoin the braising cycle.

A tagine should be made of clay, and should be unglazed, at least on the inside. The new, fancy, expensive ones made by Le Creuset and other big name designers have been rated the least effective, at least according to articles I’ve read in the New York Times and elsewhere. The more traditional glazed clay tagines are meant to be used as decorative pieces and as serving dishes, and should not be cooked with. Buying a tagine is an exercise of the KISS principle - Keep It Simple, Stupid. I ordered mine from tagines.com, on the advice of a Moroccan chef I met in Inwood (an up-and-coming neighborhood in the far northwest corner of Manhattan).

Before using your tagine, you should soak it water for a few hours, then rub the inside all over with olive oil and place it in a cold oven, raising the heat slowly to 350º and leaving it in for about an hour and a half to two hours. The oil will polymerize and season your tagine beautifully. When my partner first saw our tagine, after I had already seasoned it, he was shocked to find that it had come unglazed on the inside.

Chinese Sand Pot

I recently picked up three sand pots of varying size in Chinatown. All together, they cost me less than $15. I am thinking of getting one more very large one for when I have a larger crowd for dinner, which I expect will cost no more than $9. My current largest one, which can hold approximate 4-6 main course servings, cost about $6.

Point being, if you see them online for more than that, don’t bother. In fact, don’t bother ordering them online even if they are cheap. Sand pots are fairly fragile, and I had to look through a lot of them at the store to find some that weren’t at all chipped or cracked. This is part of why they are so cheap. It is also why you should never use metal utensils with a sand pot. Stick to wooden spoons and gentle treatment, though, and your sand pots will serve you well for a long time.

Chinese sand pots do not need to be soaked or seasoned before use, at least according to cookbook author Barbara Tropp, whose advice I take very seriously indeed. Just wash the dust off, and you’re good to go.

These are my favorite all-purpose braising vessels. I have made bone-suckingly unctuous Chinese spare ribs in mine, and a Greek lamb stew. I will probably use one to make my grandmother’s Hungarian stuffed cabbage next time, too. Not to mention many soups.

I am convinced that meat cooked in a sand pot comes out more lusciously tender and flavorful than that braised in any other sort of cookware. I have no real science to back this up. It may just be that I enjoy cooking in my sand pots so much that I manage to hustle up extra patience and let things simmer longer in them than I would if I were using a different pot. But whatever the reason may be, the results speak for themselves.

I use my sand pots hand in hand with my wok, by searing the meat in the wok before adding it to the sand pot with the other ingredients. The initial searing in a hot wok adds wonderful depth of flavor to the finished product.

Yunnan Steam Pot

This pot is fairly difficult to find in the United States. I was lucky enough to come across one on Ebay, being sold very inexpensively by someone who obviously didn’t understand what it was for.

I wasn’t sure what kind of care it might need before use, so I sent Paula Wolfert a message on eGullet to ask for her advice. She suggested soaking it in water for a few hours and then letting it air-dry before its first use. She did not think it needed any seasoning aside from that. I was more than willing to trust her advice.

A Yunnan steam pot is a round pot with a snug, flat lid. In the center of the pot there is what appears to be a hollow cone rising up from the bottom of the pot, with an opening at its top.

To use the steam pot properly, you place it in a larger pot, which is partially filled with water. You place your meat, aromatics, and other ingredients in the steam pot. Then you cover the steam pit with its lid, and cover the outer pot with its lid. Turn the heat on low beneath the larger pot and slowly bring the water up to a simmer.

As the water simmers, steam rises through that center cone to enter the otherwise-sealed Yunnan steam pot. The ingredients inside are steamed, and in fact begin to braise as the steam condenses around them.

When you open the nested pots, what you find inside is a light, tasty soup.

Le Creuset Dutch Oven

I had a ceramic Le Creuset dutch oven. I used it to make meatballs, and it cracked rather thoroughly. As you may have gathered, I know how to treat clay pots well, and I don’t believe that I abused this dutch oven before it broke.

I contacted Le Creuset to let them know about the issue, and reminded them that my dutch oven was still under warranty. They said that I could send it to them pre-paid and they would look it over and consider replacing it. I asked them how they wanted me to send it. They explained that “pre-paid” meant that I should pay to send it back to them, and if they decide to replace it, they will pay to send me the replacement.

Compared to my recent experience with KitchenAid’s customer service, I was fairly unimpressed by Le Creuset’s offer.

I understand that Le Creuset is a big name company, and some of their products are excellent. We have a few of their metal pots that we use all the time, mostly for baking bread. But their ceramic dutch oven seems not worth the bother, at least for me.

I met John Scharffenberger last Thursday.

Yes, one of the founders of Scharffen Berger Chocolate Maker.

I passed by my local chocolate cafe, The Chocolate Room, that afternoon, only to notice a sign in the window saying that John Scharffenberger would be there that evening to give a talk and sign copies of his new book, Essence of Chocolate: Recipes for Baking and Cooking with Fine Chocolate by John Scharffenberger and Robert Steinberg. I’ve been looking forward to the book, but I thought it wasn’t even out yet. Not to mention I had other plans that evening. But I came back anyway, eager to buy a copy of the new book and listen to the man give his talk.

Because of the complete lack of publicity, I was almost the only person in the cafe. I was certainly the only person there who had come to see Scharffenberger, aside from the people he had brought with him. There weren’t enough people for him to bother giving a talk, at least before I had to leave. So what? All that means is that I got a chance to just chat with him myself.

We spoke a bit about cocoa nibs, which are pieces of the beans from which chocolate is made. I am deeply in love with cocoa nibs, though they were hard to find up until a few years ago. Nowadays you can find them in gourmet stores, produced by Scharffen Berger and Sweet Riot. I ordered a few pounds of single-origin cocoa nibs from Chocolate Alchemy a while back, but I would not bother doing so again. The flavors were strange and wonderful, but the nibs come packaged with a lot of twigs and bits of hull, and need to be carefully sorted before you can even roast them. Scharffen Berger cocoa nibs come pre-hulled and pre-roasted, and although they don’t have the wide range of flavors that single-origin nibs have, they are very good indeed.

Mr. Scharffenberger told me that if I give them a call, they can sell me single-origin nibs directly. It would have to be a large enough order to make it worth their while, though.

Oh, said I. I do the occasional catering gig, but I’m mostly just a home cook. How big would an order have to be?

Five or six pounds at least, said he.

I can do that.

We also spoke about how to make chocolate. I always thought that I would have to get some serious, expensive equipment to make chocolate at home. But John Scharffenberger told me that all I really need is an Indian spice grinder. That’s what he uses when tasting and developing blends, after all, and when teaching kids about chocolate-making. This may finally be my excuse to buy the Sumeet Multi-Grind I’ve been wanting.

What John Scharffenberger was really there to talk about was the history of chocolate. He wants to tell people where cocoa beans come from, their history, and how they can be used. The book is full of stories about the farmers, about the beans, about the history of the company and chocolate itself. It is full of gorgeous photos of cocoa pods still on trees, and tales of how the guys at Scharffen Berger worked with the farmers in third world countries to teach them how to properly ferment their beans so that the buyers could make the best use of them (and thus want to buy more of them).

In the middle of our conversation, he excitedly grabbed my copy of the book out of my hands and flipped to one of his favorite photos of a cocoa pod cracked open, still fresh, with white gunk all around the beans.

“The white stuff is sweet!” he explained.

There are recipes in the book, too, and I am really looking forward to trying out a lot of them.

John Scharffenger said that he particularly likes the quick fix of smearing goat cheese and cocoa nibs on a slice of bread, himself.

This article was originally published at Habeas Brûlée.

I was never one of those people who craved a block full of knives from the start. In fact, it wasn’t so very long ago that I bought my first few good knives. I grew up using my mother’s dull knives; in my entire life, I do not think she ever had any of them sharpened. She bought new steak knives and paring knives occasionally to replace the dull ones, and had a drawer full of beat-up chef’s knives and bread knives without even enough of an edge on any of them to make reaching into the drawer dangerous.

When I took the bar exam, I used some of my graduation money to buy myself a treat - a Shun 10″ chef’s knife, a Shun 4″ paring knife, and a Shun 8″ offset bread knife. I figured that with those three blades, I could handle whatever may come across my kitchen.

Of course, the first thing I did was slice my finger open with the chef’s knife. I wasn’t used to sharp knives, after all, and I spent that evening bleeding all over my chicken. But the wound healed clean, and I adjusted my technique. All good knives seem to have that urge to cut their new masters during their first use, perhaps just to bond properly.

Then came the day I found my partner using my beloved chef’s knife as a cleaver to chop sturdy pumpkins into smaller sections. He was destroying its edge, slamming the blade against the cutting board with all his strength. I briefly considered murder, but decided that buying a few cleavers might be the better option.

A trip to Chinatown was in order.

I found a small, dingy shop with knives hanging in the window on Chrystie St. in New York’s Chinatown. The men laughed when my friend and I walked in and began to peruse their selection of cleavers. We’re both short girls, after all, and I look much younger than I am. But I found what I wanted, and assured the gentleman that I could indeed lift and wield the cleavers I had picked out.

Well enough to make handling them double as a work-out routine, at least.

I have two cleavers, now - a vegetable cleaver, made of stunning cast iron that I rub with oil after every use, sharp and strong for almost any task I can imagine, and a stainless steel meat cleaver, heavy and dull, used for those bone-splitting moments that we all must face sometimes. The two of them together cost me $35, and for now, they complete my knife collection. Until the next time I face a task that my current knives can’t handle, that is.

I love toys and gadgets as much as anyone else. I have more tools in my kitchen that I could ever possibly need, and some I couldn’t even name in their native languages. I choose my hobbies such that I’ll have excuses to buy more toys, sometimes, and cooking is no exception.

But there is something satisfying about buying new knives only when I come across a specific purpose that demands them. It makes me feel more competent, perhaps, to know that each of my knives has a purpose and is well used in its service.

That said, I would still recommend that anyone go out to Chinatown and buy a pair of cleavers, because the day of the stubborn pumpkin comes to us all in the end.