Welcome to another edition of Next Course with Tom Sietsema. A special shoutout to the many new subscribers this week.

Be sure to check out my full archive here.

For years now, guests in our home have been welcomed ahead of dinner with blue cheese straws. The prized recipe comes from one of the best home cooks I know: John Martin Taylor, once of Washington and now living in Athens, Ga. Taylor always delighted visitors with those golden wands, their crisp-salty-spicy charms accompanied by a glass of L. Aubry Fils, his divine house bubbly.

Taylor’s signature became ours. I always credit the Southern-born author of four cookbooks with saving me the effort of making something fancy — say, endive “boats” set adrift with mandarin orange slices, slivered almonds, and goat cheese — only to have too few takers and hors d’oeuvres that can’t be repurposed. Another charm of his cheese straws: A batch can be made ahead and frozen.

Why cheese straws, John? “Because they’re so gawd-damn good, that’s why!” Taylor fairly cried over the phone recently, “and they go so well with drinks.” Before the advent of air-conditioning, he added, Southern hosts also required “something that would keep” at room temperature.

In my house, mixing and cutting the dough falls to my partner, Ed, who could probably make the straws in his sleep at this point. Invariably we present them on a slender wooden tray that suits their length. Commonly, people eat more than they think they will and ask for the recipe, which we gratefully added years ago to The Washington Post’s recipe archive.

Our blue cheese straw drill still occurs, but I think everyone in my orbit has enjoyed them many times over. Time to shake things up!

Recently, we started serving a twist on hummus that replaces traditional chickpeas with edamame. It combines several of my adored flavor accents — garlic, ginger, cumin, lemon juice — that spark the palate and encourage repeat returns to the bowl (but never the dreaded double dip). Its already-easy execution can be simplified further with a few shortcuts, including frozen, pre-minced cubes of ginger and garlic.

I fell for the dip at a long-ago Sunday book club session where my pal Kate Kuhn served it and I devoured several readers’ worth. Kate tells me she got the recipe from her sister, who got the idea from Lynn Foster, onetime chef-owner of the Garrett Park Cafe and former instructor at the late L’Academie de Cuisine.

Edamame hummus looks the part of spring and doesn’t come with the yield sign of other dips. Knowing it’s packed with good-for-you ingredients, you can scoop freely, and that makes it a crowd-pleaser.

Main image by Deb Lindsey Photography

12 to 14 servings; makes about 3¼ cups

The pale green color of this quick dip is easy on the eyes. No chickpeas here, but its hummus-like texture makes it especially great for no-drip scooping. Serve with crackers, pita triangles, or fresh vegetables. I like to spread leftovers on dark bread or toast.

MAKE AHEAD: Refrigerate in an airtight container for up to 2 days

1 pound frozen shelled edamame
6 tablespoons canola oil
2½ tablespoons pure sesame oil
¾ teaspoon fine sea salt, or more as needed
1½ teaspoons ground cumin
¾ teaspoon ground coriander
4 garlic cloves, minced (about 2½ tablespoons) 
One 2-inch piece peeled ginger root, minced (2 tablespoons)
5 tablespoons well-stirred tahini
½ cup water
¼ cup fresh lemon juice, or more as needed

Fill a large bowl with water and ice cubes.

Boil a pot of water over high heat. Add the edamame and cook (blanch) just until the edamame turns a brighter green, about 5 minutes. Drain and immediately add to the ice-water bath to shock/stop their cooking (this helps set the color). Once the edamame has cooled, drain in a colander.

Combine the canola and sesame oils, salt, cumin, coriander, garlic, ginger, tahini, ½ cup of water, and the lemon juice in a food processor. Pulse a few times just to emulsify, then add the blanched edamame and puree until thick and creamy.

Taste, and add salt and/or lemon juice as needed. (I prefer a minimum of salt.) Serve right away, or transfer to an airtight container and refrigerate for up to 2 days.

Adapted from a recipe by chef Lynn Foster, formerly of the Garrett Park Cafe in suburban Maryland.

Two of my most memorable meals in Manhattan of late took place in NoMad — North of Madison Square Park. The establishments offer vastly different menus, but similarly beguiling hospitality and unforgettable scenery.

Last I heard, 50,000 people were on the wait list for Ambassadors Clubhouse, a 150-seat offshoot of London’s posh Indian draw of the same name. What I can confirm is that it launched in February with executive chef Karan Mittal in the kitchen – and that I’ve been trying for months to get a taste of the Punjabi specialist.

I finally scored a table several Sundays ago.

Set off with big blue doors, the facade doesn’t allow you to look in. You begin to see what the excitement is about once you’re inside. This Clubhouse spreads across two floors and 8,000 square feet — a maximalist jewel box distinguished here and there with paisley carpet, animal prints, wood carvings and hand-painted murals.

Central to the restaurant’s identity (part of the JKS Restaurant empire that includes the Michelin-starred Gymkhana in London and Las Vegas) is a portrait of the sibling owners’ grandfather, a former Indian ambassador whose summer house and Indian party mansions inspired this setting. I landed in the luxe lower level, its coffered ceiling set off with gold accents. For the duration of a meal, diners get a sense of dining as if they were in a Maharaja’s palace. Mesmerizing.

A point of pride is what management claims is Manhattan’s sole charcoal-fueled tandoor. “When the fat drippings” fall on the heat and perfume the air, “it’s pure nostalgia,” says the chef, who has cooked at trail blazers such as Indian Accent in New Delhi, where I was lucky to eat years ago. The clay oven at Ambassadors Clubhouse adds a lovely smokiness to the signature barbecue butter chicken chops--- tender, juicy thighs that swell with what tastes like a pantry of Indian spices. Rather than bathe in sauce, the dish is finished with mere spoonfuls.

Chaat means “to lick” in Hindi, says Mittal, and that’s practically what I did to my plate after tasting the popular beetroot chaat. It is street food raised to glory. Diners pierce the globe-shaped, sauce-striped semolina puff to find a circus of flavors and textures: beets, chickpeas, cilantro, green chiles and lentil dumplings bound in beet-stained masala yogurt. Another revelation is the flaky, seven-layer samosa, an edible accordion whose stuffing of saucy potatoes and peas rides shotgun. You pluck apart the crisp layers and dip to your heart’s content.

The food arrives on handsome, custom-made serving pieces and settles on shiny brass tables softly lit with accent lamps. The long menu is made possible by a kitchen that operates in shifts, pretty much around the clock. Paneer is made fresh daily; kebabs, from meat butchered on site, are twice-marinated. Such attention to detail extends to the hospitality, uncommonly gracious for a hot spot in New York. Servers pace their deliveries so as not to make you feel rushed, and are good about pointing out sleepers on the list. (I love that any take-home leftovers wait for you at the host stand.) 

Walk-ins are accepted, but even the ornate, ground-floor bar is reservations-only. The secret to getting a table, then? Rob Rawleigh, managing partner in charge of U.S. operations for JKS, says the best strategy is to sign up for the restaurant’s monthly newsletter, whose subscribers are first to be notified when bookings become available.

1245 Broadway. 607-247-8870. ambassadorsclubhouse.com Entrees, $24 to $60

There’s no Italian restaurant in New York I want to return to as much as Borgo.

Walking into the front bar doubles as a hug, a feeling fueled by enticing cooking aromas and staff who treat you like an honored guest. Your appreciation for the place grows with the sight of intimate dining rooms set off with vaulted ceilings, linen-draped tables, candles for illumination, and pools of space between you and other parties. Are we really in crowded Manhattan? A terrace in the rear suggests somewhere more bucolic.

The visionary behind Borgo, which translates to “village” in Italian, is the Brooklyn-based restaurateur Andrew Tarlow, whose Marlow Collective portfolio includes the popular Achilles Heel, Marlow & Sons, and Roman’s. The menu, from executive chef Jordan Frosolone, doesn’t read as if you’re about to eat something special. Plenty of Borgo’s peers serve chicken Milanese and whole roasted branzino, after all. That’s the restaurant’s party trick: respecting prime, often seasonal, ingredients by not doing too much to them.

The textbook-perfect Milanese is sparked with roasted tomato pesto and a lovely nest of arugula, shaved fennel and herbs; the whole fish splays across a changing bed of something delicious: chickpeas and smoked cabbage on my visit. Rome might be the last time I had artichokes as sublime as the braised, marinated and fried artichokes at Borgo, simply served with a lemon wedge. In March, first-of-the-season rhubarb starred in a delicate tart with a cloud of almond-scented whipped cream.

Frosolone spent a year in Florence and has cooked at restaurants as diverse as Bouley and Momofuku in Manhattan. “We are an Italian restaurant in New York,” says the chef. Meaning? Frosolone incorporates American ingredients in the game plan. Buffalo mozzarella comes from abroad, but the companion cherries (smoked in the hearth) are from California, the hazelnuts (in a pesto) from Oregon.

Probably the best compliment I can pay the restaurant is that it summons the confidant, gracious and timeless spirit of the beloved Zuni Cafe in San Francisco, my former stomping grounds. Frosolone takes less credit than he deserves. “I’m lucky to have a wood-burning oven,” he says. That — and great ingredients — “make my job simpler.”

124 East 27th Street, 646-360-2404. borgonyc.com Entrees, $34 to $72

Coming up: A night to remember at the fabled Inn at Little Washington in Virginia.