Green Fire

Extraordinary Ways to Grill Fruits and Vegetables, from the Master of Live-Fire Cooking


By Francis Mallmann

With Peter Kaminsky

With Donna Gelb

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A groundbreaking new approach to grilling vegetables and fruit from the author of Seven Fires and Mallmann on Fire

Green Fire is an extraordinary vegetarian cookbook, as Mallmann brings his techniques, creativity, instinct for bold flavors, and decades of experience to the idea of cooking vegetables and fruits over live fire. Blistered tomatoes reinvigorate a classic Caprese salad. Eggplants are buried whole in the coals—a technique called rescoldo—then dance that fine line between burned and incinerated until they yield an ineffable creaminess made irresistible with a slather of parsley, chile, and aioli. Brussels sprout leaves are scorched and served with walnuts; whole cabbages are sliced thick, grilled like steaks, and rubbed with spice for a mustard-fennel crust. Corn, fennel, artichokes, beets, squash, even beans—this is the vegetable kingdom, on fire.

The celebrated Patagonian chef, known for his mastery of flame and meat, the chef who romanced the food world with an iconic image of a whole cow dressed and splayed out over licking flames, is returning to the place where his storied career began—the garden and all its bounty. It’s his new truth: the transformation wrought by flame, coals, and smoke on a carrot or peach is nothing short of alchemy.

And just as he’s discovered that a smoky, crackling-crusted potato cooked on the plancha is as sublime as the rib-eye he used to serve it next to, Mallmann’s also inspired by another truth: we all need to cut down on consuming animals to ensure a healthier future for both people and the planet. Time to turn the fire “green.”

The fruit desserts alone confirm live fire’s ability to transform and elevate any ingredient. Mallmann roasts whole pineapples, grills grapes, chars cherries, and then finds just the right unexpected match—melted cheese, toasted hazelnuts, Campari granita—to turn each into a simple yet utterly entrancing dish.

Cooking with fire demands both simplicity and perfection. But the results are pure magic. By using this oldest of cooking techniques, you’ll discover fruits and vegetables pushed to such a peak of flavor it’s as if they’d never been truly tasted before.



Smashed potatoes, Four Ways

Plancha Potato Rounds

Blackjack Potatoes

Rösti with Raclette

Broken and Deep-Fried Potatoes

Crispy Potato Strips and Parsley Salad with Garlic Cream

Life on the Edge: Potato Bricks and Pyramids2

Huevos a la Tripa

A Debt of Gratitude

In a way, I could say that potatoes—the great gift of the Andes—marked the turning point in my career. I realized this in 1995. My career was moving along nicely. I had already run a successful cooking school and enjoyed a devoted following on television. Along the way, I'd started a few restaurants that did quite well, although like everyone in my country, I was buffeted by the economic and political winds that came and went. Back home in Patagonia, I cooked simply and with fire, but in sophisticated Buenos Aires, my restaurant food was more an Argentine version of fancy European cuisine.

I was a bit bored.

And then the hand of Providence (and potatoes) entered when I was informed that I had received the Grand Prize of the prestigious International Academy of Gastronomy—the first South American to be recognized by a group that has bestowed this honor on such cooking legends as Alain Ducasse and Ferran Adrià.

What shall I make for this assembly of dining demigods? I wondered. Surely they hadn't turned to me to see what I could do with lobster Thermidor or foie gras. There was nothing particularly South American about that kind of food, and I had been invited, I believed, because I was particularly South American. Then, in a moment of reflection, a thought stirred in my soul: one word . . . potatoes.

To any son or daughter of Patagonia, this humble tuber, dug out of the dirt, is the food that has united the cuisines of the peoples who live in the shadow of the Andes: from the shores of Tierra del Fuego to the highlands of Peru. To this day, the Incas leave potatoes out to freeze in the frigid mountain air, then thaw them in the blazing sun (a very low-tech way of freeze-drying). Closer to my childhood home in Bariloche, the ancient Mapuche people would cook them curanto-style: buried in rock-and-earth-filled firepits along with leg of llama and ears of corn in their husks. After their morning meal on the pampas, gauchos would toss a few potatoes into the ashes of their campfire to cook slowly (in the style we call rescoldo) until they reached smoky creaminess, perhaps to serve at lunch with a lashing of chimichurri. And of course, my mother knew that her crisp and golden french fries could tame the appetites of her rambunctious sons.

For my Grand Prix meal, I resolved to showcase potatoes for the gathered gastronomers in the fairy-tale castle of the Hotel Schloss outside Frankfurt, Germany. To set the plan in motion, I sent my second-in-command Germán Martitegui (who is now a world-renowned chef) to Cuzco, the ancient royal capital of the Incas. His mission: to buy a thousand pounds of Andean potatoes, chosen from the endless varieties in the town market: red, yellow, orange, purple.

The dinner was an enormous success. The president of the academy pronounced it "Food made by the angels!"

That experience had a life-changing effect on me. I resolved at that moment to simplify my food and to embrace the Patagonian heritage of wood-fire cooking. Out went the complicated sauces, the vegetables diced to the girth of a helium atom, the ornate compositions that left you wondering if you were being asked to eat the entrée put before you or have it framed and hung in a museum. I returned to the fiery roots of Andean cooking. And I have devoted myself to them ever since.

To the potato, then, I owe a great debt of thanks.

Smashed Andean Yellow Potato with Caviar

Causa Limeña with Avocado and Tomato

(composed Peruvian potato salad with chilies, avocado, and tomato)

Salmon Confit in Potato

Mashed Potato with Confits of Lamb, Duck, and Langoustine

Potato and Mascarpone Soufflé with Berries, Mint, and Pepper

Potato Ice cream with Oranges and Plums

Smashed potatoes, Four Ways

This is one of my longtime signature dishes. The flattened-out surface area of a smashed potato allows for lots of crunch as it crisps on the plancha. Sometimes I do nothing more than boil the potato, smash it, and crisp it. It's lovely after a final crisping with a paste of herbs and spices (see the variations that follow).

Small-to-medium Idaho potatoes (russets) work best because they are quite starchy and hold their shape when you smash them. You'll notice that I add oil and vinegar to the boiling liquid. I find that the resulting taste and texture are quite exquisite. If your potatoes crumble apart around the edges when you smash them, just squeeze them back together. You can boil and crisp them ahead of time and then re-crisp on the plancha (or in the oven) just before serving.

The toppings on Griddled Peppers–Fennel Pollen, Fennel Seed, Rosemary, and Garlic are ones that I often use, but if you can imagine some other rubs, pastes, or coatings . . . go for it. When using pastes or rubs, crisp the potatoes on both sides as in the main recipe. Spread a spoonful of the paste or rub on top of the potatoes, then flip them back onto the oiled hot plancha for a minute or two, being careful not to burn the spices. Flip them back onto a plate for serving, spiced side up.

Serves 4

4 medium russet potatoes, scrubbed

Coarse salt

2 tablespoons red wine vinegar

6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for the pan and plancha

1 bay leaf

¼ teaspoon whole black peppercorns

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, or more as needed, cut into pieces (optional)

Fleur de sel

Prepare a fire for medium-high heat and warm the plancha. (Or pull out a large cast-iron griddle if cooking indoors.)

Meanwhile, place the potatoes in a large pot, cover them with plenty of cold water, and salt the water. Add the vinegar, 2 tablespoons of the olive oil, the bay leaf, and the peppercorns. Bring to a boil, then adjust the heat so the potatoes bubble gently for about 15 minutes, or until the potatoes are tender all the way through when pierced with a skewer. Drain in a colander and set aside until cool enough to handle, but don't allow them to thoroughly cool or they will break instead of smash.

Oil a sheet pan. Place a warm potato on a clean dish towel on a flat work surface. Cover with another clean dish towel. With the palm of your hand, slowly and evenly flatten the potato between the towels. Using a wide sharp-edged spatula, transfer the potato to the prepared sheet pan and repeat with the remaining potatoes. Spoon the remaining 4 tablespoons olive oil evenly over the potatoes.

Brush the hot plancha with olive oil (if cooking indoors, heat the griddle over medium-high heat, then brush with oil). When the oil shimmers, carefully flip the potatoes onto the surface, oiled side down, and cook without moving them until the bottom is crisp, about 5 minutes. Transfer back to the oiled sheet pan, and brush the tops with olive oil.

Brush the hot plancha or griddle with more oil. Slide the spatula under a crisped potato and, with one quick move, flip the potato onto the plancha to cook the other side. Repeat with the remaining potatoes, moving them as little as possible as they cook. At this point, you can drizzle more oil or add dots of butter around the potatoes to help the crisping. It should take 5 to 7 minutes to get them nice and crisp. As they are done, flip them back over onto a serving platter, sprinkle with fleur de sel, and serve immediately.


Griddled Peppers

Blistered peppers from the Spanish town of Padrón have long been popular as a tapa. The fun is guessing which one of the mostly mild peppers will be the occasional spicy one. More recently, blistered shishito peppers, with similar qualities but easier to come by, have appeared on menus everywhere. Here we have a combination of sliced shishitos and sweet mild peppers tossed with lemon zest, giving these potatoes some powerful jabs of flavor and color.

Serves 4

2 ounces small sweet peppers or shishitos

¼ cup (13 g) chopped fresh parsley leaves

1 teaspoon grated lemon zest

While the potatoes are crisping, slice the peppers and brown them on the hot oiled plancha or griddle. Season them with the parsley and lemon zest and spoon them on top of the crisped potatoes.

Turmeric, Cardamom, Coriander, and Almond Gremolata

Inspired by spice mixes of the Middle East, North Africa, and India, these flavors are strong, bright, and distinct. If you have a lonely spice mix in your cabinet that you don't know what to do with, moisten it with some olive oil and give it a try.

Serves 4

1 teaspoon cardamom seeds (from a heaping tablespoon of whole pods), crushed

1 teaspoon coriander seeds, crushed

1 tablespoon ground turmeric

1 teaspoon chopped garlic

2 tablespoons chopped almonds

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

Coarse salt

Crush the spices and garlic together in a mortar. Stir in the almonds, crushing them a little but not completely, and stir in enough of the vegetable oil to make a paste. Add salt to taste.

While the potatoes are crisping, spread a spoonful of the spice paste on top. Flip them spiced side down and cook just until the spice paste is fragrant and crisped, 1 to 2 minutes, being careful not to burn the spices. Flip them back onto a plate for serving, spiced side up.

Fennel Pollen, Fennel Seed, Rosemary, and Garlic

One of the true glories of Italian street food is this seasoning mixture rolled up inside roast pork (porchetta), but there's no reason vegetables can't benefit from this powerful combination as well. The fennel pollen makes this recipe. It pulls everything in the paste into a softly aromatic cloak with a beautiful color.

Serves 4

1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary leaves

1 tablespoon fennel seeds

2 tablespoons fennel pollen

1 tablespoon chopped garlic

Extra-virgin olive oil

Crush the rosemary, fennel seeds, fennel pollen, and garlic together in a mortar. Stir in enough olive oil to make a thick, spreadable paste.

While the potatoes are crisping, spread a spoonful of the spice paste on top. Flip them spiced side down and cook just until the spices are fragrant and crisped, 1 to 2 minutes, being careful not to burn the spices. Flip them onto a plate for serving, spiced side up.

Plancha Potato Rounds

Many people think that cooking with fire requires the raging heat of a blast furnace, when in fact, the steady heat of a low fire can seduce subtle flavor and texture out of just a few ingredients. Boiling a potato, then griddling it as slowly as a rosebud opening in the sunlight—or so it seemed to me when I was a boy—was the secret in my grandma Tata's kitchen. (Her actual name was Mercedes Sanchez Ponce de Leon.) Here I cut a boiled potato into little steaks, and the almost magical union of potato, plancha, and butter creates the most delicious and elegant crust you can imagine.

Serves 4

4 medium russet potatoes, scrubbed

Coarse salt

Extra-virgin olive oil, for the plancha

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

Fleur de sel

Prepare a fire for medium-low heat and warm the plancha. (Or pull out one or more large cast-iron griddles or skillets if cooking indoors.)

Put the whole potatoes in a deep saucepan, cover them with plenty of cold water, add salt, and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat and let the potatoes bubble gently for about 12 minutes, until they are tender when pierced but still quite firm. Drain and slice the potatoes into rounds about ½ inch (1.25 cm) thick.

Brush the hot plancha with oil (if cooking indoors, heat the griddle over medium-low heat, then brush with oil). When the oil shimmers, add the potatoes in a single uncrowded layer. Take half the butter and dot it in between the potatoes and around the edges so that it melts into the potatoes as they brown. Cook for about 5 minutes. Turn the potatoes over, dot the plancha or griddle with the remaining butter, and brown the other side, another 3 to 5 minutes. Sprinkle with fleur de sel and serve immediately.

Blackjack Potatoes

A few years ago, I was filming a show on the Chilean side of the Andes in a remote and windy spot where the only neighbors were the occasional Andean condors—giant birds that threw a shadow like single-engine airplanes as they glided and swooped overhead. My equipment was about as low-tech as you could find: just a plancha with a fire alongside and a tree branch to help me tip the chapa (another word for a plancha) to let the grease run off. We call these Blackjack Potatoes because the way you lay the thin potato slices down on the plancha reminds me of the way card dealers in a casino deal a hand in blackjack. Reducing cream with sautéed onion and sage creates a velvety and savory coating for the potatoes.

Serves 4

About 6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more if needed

1 onion, thinly sliced

1½ pounds (680 g) russet potatoes, scrubbed and thinly sliced on a mandoline

2 garlic cloves, minced

6 large fresh sage leaves, roughly torn

¼ cup (59 ml) heavy cream

Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

Prepare a fire for medium-low heat and warm the plancha. If cooking indoors, heat a large cast-iron griddle or skillet over medium-low heat.

Brush the plancha or griddle with the olive oil and add the onion slices, spreading them out on the hot surface. Add another tablespoon or so of olive oil and cook, turning occasionally, until the onion is golden brown, about 5 minutes. Transfer to a plate and set aside.

Meanwhile, oil another area of the plancha (or a separate griddle) and line a sheet pan with paper towels.

One at a time, in batches if necessary, add the potato slices just like a card dealer at a blackjack table, so that every slice is fully in contact with the hot surface. The thin potatoes will quickly become translucent and you'll see the slices bubbling in the center. After 4 to 5 minutes, when they start to brown, turn the slices over and cook for several minutes longer, until the potatoes are golden and cooked through, with large patches of crispy brown. Transfer them to the prepared sheet pan as they are done. Add more olive oil to the plancha as needed.

Return the onion to the plancha or skillet and add the garlic, sage, and cream, scraping the cream into the onion until it thickens slightly. The aroma of garlic and sage will be quite seductive. Add the potatoes and cook for a minute or so, tossing with the onion. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Using two wide spatulas, transfer it all to a platter and serve immediately.

The Personalities of Potatoes

If you look at potatoes with an aesthetic eye, I'd have to say there is not much to draw the contemplation of an art lover. They're lumpy, irregular in shape, and covered with dirt. I suppose when something spends its life underground, there's no need for brilliant colors or a seductive shape. But when you cook a potato, there is plenty of opportunity for artistry. A cooked potato can be crisp, crunchy, and creamy. It can soak up smoke, salt, oil, butter, pepper, garlic, and the essence of herbs and spices. Even more miraculously, a potato can do all of these things at the same time in a single recipe.

It is this multiple personality side of potatoes that has always spurred me to explore new ways to bring out their many qualities when cooking with fire. Bakers often talk about the relationship of crust to crumb. A baguette has a lot of crust compared to how much airy crumb there is inside, and a dinner roll even more so, while a country bread has a softer and more spacious crumb. Likewise, a french-fried potato has a lot of crust, and a potato chip has even more, while my smashed potatoes (see Smashed potatoes, Four Ways) have creamy insides but enough crust to satisfy the universal human love of crispiness. Over the years, I have found that by experimenting with shape and with the arrangement of potato pieces on a plancha or in an oven or kettle, you can produce endless variations on the arc of crispy to creamy. Go ahead and play with your potatoes.

Rösti with Raclette

If I asked you to name a favorite food from Switzerland, you might say Swiss cheese or hot chocolate, which are, of course, quite wonderful. For me, though, the roughly grated potato pancake known as rösti takes the prize. In my childhood, it was a favorite when the snowdrifts in our mountain town of Bariloche seemed as tall as horses and my brother and I would come in from whatever snowy games we were playing. In my home today, I often serve it alongside a crisp salad of radicchio and endive with a sharp mustardy vinaigrette.

Grate the potatoes just before you put them on the plancha, then serve the hot and crispy rösti topped with melted cheese. Raclette is both the name of this recipe and the type of cheese we'd often have for an après-ski lunch in Bariloche, and I prefer it, but any mildly pungent cheese (Gruyère, Comté) will work.

Note: The trick to getting the rösti potatoes just right is to find that low-heat bliss point where the inside of the pancake cooks and the outside crisps. If the fire is too strong, you'll get a crispy crust and raw insides. Go low!

Makes 1 large rösti (serves 4)

4 medium russet potatoes, peeled

Extra-virgin olive oil

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces, plus more if needed

2 tablespoons sliced scallions

4 medium endives, trimmed

1 head radicchio, trimmed and halved

My Basic Vinaigrette

1 large wedge Raclette (at least 12 ounces/350 g)

Prepare a fire for medium-low heat and warm the plancha. If cooking indoors, heat a large cast-iron griddle or skillet over medium-low heat.

Grate the potatoes. Blot them dry.

Generously oil the hot plancha or griddle. Melt 2 tablespoons of the butter on the hot surface and pile the potatoes onto the buttered plancha or griddle. With a wide spatula, gently flatten them down into an even layer about ¾ inch (2 cm) thick. Cook very gently until a deep golden crust forms on the bottom, about 12 minutes, pressing down on the potatoes now and then. Add a few more dots of butter around the edges if it seems like a good idea. Loosen the rösti with the spatula, slide it onto a large flat plate or rimless baking sheet, and melt the remaining 2 tablespoons butter on the hot plancha or griddle. Cover the rösti with another large plate and invert it onto the buttered plancha to cook the other side for 10 to 12 minutes. When it's perfectly crusted on the bottom and cooked through inside, slide it onto a platter and keep it warm. Scatter the scallions over the rösti.

While the rösti is cooking, slice the endives and radicchio into wide ribbons and place in a salad bowl. Just before serving, toss the salad with the vinaigrette.

To serve, gradually melt the cheese in front of the fire, scraping it down onto the potatoes with the spatula. If cooking indoors, cut the cheese into thick slices and use a separate cast-iron skillet or griddle to slowly melt it.

Cut the rösti into wedges at the table and serve the salad alongside.

Broken and Deep-Fried Potatoes

A boiled potato is smooth on the palate. A french fry is all about crispiness. This recipe is about both. First, I boil the potatoes, then chip and break them apart, then I fry them. By breaking a potato apart, you get hundreds of little crevices to crisp up. All these mini ridges and valleys in the broken-up potato create a chorus line of crispiness followed by soft creaminess as you bite down: truly the best of both worlds.

Serves 4

4 medium russet potatoes, scrubbed

Coarse salt

About 8 cups (2 L) oil (preferably a combination of olive and vegetable oils), for deep-frying

Fleur de sel

1 bunch chives, minced

Lemon wedges, for serving

Prepare a fire for medium heat and set a grate over it. Pull out a large deep cast-iron pot, such as a caldero or Dutch oven.

Meanwhile, put the potatoes in another pot, cover them with plenty of cold water, and add salt. Line a sheet pan with a clean dish towel. Bring the water to a boil, then boil the potatoes gently over medium heat for about 12 minutes, until they are tender but still firm. Drain and pat them dry, then set them on the prepared sheet pan until they are cool enough to handle. With the point of a small knife, chip and break the potatoes apart into rough-sided but evenly sized chunks—an inch (2.5 cm) or a bit larger. Once chunked, let them dry further for about 15 minutes.

Line a second sheet pan with paper towels and have ready a long-handled spider or skimmer. Line a serving bowl with a napkin.

Pour enough oil into the caldero or deep cast-iron pot to fill it no more than halfway to the top. Heat the oil on the grate (or on the stovetop over medium heat) until a thermometer reads 350°F (180°C), or until the oil hisses and bubbles around a small piece of potato dropped in as a test.

Add the potatoes, a small uncrowded batch at a time, and fry for 1 to 2 minutes, until they are golden brown and very crunchy. Try to keep the oil up to temperature so the potatoes crisp without becoming heavy, but don't let them burn. As the potatoes are done, lift them out with the spider and transfer to the paper towels to thoroughly drain. Once drained, transfer the potatoes to the napkin-lined bowl, season to taste with fleur de sel, and scatter the chives over them. Serve immediately, with lemon wedges alongside for squeezing over the top.

Crispy Potato Strips and Parsley Salad with Garlic Cream

This idea was born one afternoon when I found myself wandering around Greenwich Village in Manhattan—a charming neighborhood of low-rise buildings that, in spite of its becoming a mecca for the fashionable set, retains much of the flavor of the Italian immigrants who settled there more than a century ago. Simple storefront restaurants are still the rule here. One of my favorites is Mary's Fish Camp. I adore their french fries, lightly dressed with vinegar. I had those piquant potatoes in mind when I dreamed up this salad. In contrast to the many versions of potato salad that you can make well in advance, this salad wants to be eaten right away, while the herbs are fresh and the potatoes are crunchy and cradled in garlicky cream.

Serves 4

½ cup (118 ml) heavy cream

1 teaspoon finely minced garlic

2 large russet potatoes, scrubbed

Olive oil, for deep-frying

2 cups (60 g) fresh parsley leaves

Red wine vinegar

Fleur de sel

Prepare a fire for medium heat and set a grate over it. Pull out a large deep cast-iron pot, such as a caldero or Dutch oven.

Combine the cream with the garlic in a very small saucepan and cook over medium heat until reduced by half. Pour the mixture into a bowl and let cool.

Trim the potatoes into bricks, cut them crosswise in half, then slice them lengthwise into very thin strips. They should be about 1⁄8 inch (3 mm) thick, ¾ inch (2 cm) wide, and 2 to 3 inches (5 to 7 cm) long. Reserve them in a bowl of cold water if you are slicing them ahead of time, but drain them and thoroughly blot them dry on a dish towel before they go into the hot oil.

Pour oil into the caldero or deep cast-iron pot to fill it no more than halfway up the sides and attach a frying thermometer to the side. Set the caldero or pot on the grate (or if cooking indoors, set it on the stovetop over medium heat). Line a sheet pan with paper towels and set it nearby to drain the cooked potatoes. When the oil is hot enough to hiss and bubble around a strip of potato (about 350°F/180°C), carefully add a large handful of the potatoes and fry until they are golden brown and crisp, about 2 minutes. Be careful not to let the oil get too hot, or they will burn very quickly. If they clump together, move them apart with a long-handled spider or skimmer. As the potatoes are done, use the spider to transfer them to the paper towels to drain.

Meanwhile, add the parsley to the garlic cream and toss to coat.

When the potatoes are done, sprinkle them with vinegar to taste, then gently layer them on a platter or individual plates with the dressed parsley. Gently toss the layers together with your hands to lightly dress the potatoes without breaking them. Sprinkle with fleur de sel and serve immediately.


  • “For legendary Argentine chef Francis Mallmann, innovating outdoor cooking is second nature. His latest book, Green Fire, explores and expands the possibilities for produce well beyond mere kebabs.”  
    Wall Street Journal

    “Mallmann, the world’s foremost grilling expert . . . makes the argument for charring everything from berries to citrus to fennel.”
    Bloomberg BusinessWeek

    “Long considered the meat maestro when it comes to grilling, the Argentine chef and restaurateur Francis Mallmann has turned his attention to plants. His latest, vibrantly illustrated tome . . . covers fruits and a dozen different vegetables suitable for grilling. [The recipes accommodate] a standard Weber grill with other equipment, including a plancha and a Dutch oven.”
    New York Times

    “These are not the obligatory grilled vegetable sides on so many restaurant menus. . . . The recipes are inventive and elevated but simple at their core. And Mallmann includes some workarounds for cooking in different home kitchen setups (you know, just in case you don’t have a giant iron dome and an open firepit in your backyard). As long as you have beautiful produce and fire—and perhaps a bit of Mallmann’s poetic spirit—you can grill anything.”
    Green Fire is every bit as educational as it is inspiring (we’d buy it for the gorgeous photography alone), with tips for coaxing the most flavor out of fruits and vegetables. Vegetarian cooking? Yes. A consolation prize for those who don’t eat meat? Hardly—this book proves that Mallmann’s expertise extends way beyond the realm of steak. . . .  Mallmann is a refreshingly approachable cook. Green Fire is full of actually-doable recipes and “a-ha!” moments that quietly boost home cooks’ confidence.”
    Spruce Eats
    “Francis Mallmann has done it again. . . . [Green Fire] marries the world-renowned Argentinian chef’s techniques, creativity, instinct for bold flavors, and decades of experience to the idea of cooking vegetables and fruits over live fire.”
    Haute Living

    “Fabulous dishes.”
    “When we think of cooking with fire we automatically think of meat, of barbecue and pit masters. We tend ot overlook the rich history of plant-based cooking over the flame. Vegetables are transformed by fire, and Mallmann’s new book is a well-timed wealth of knowledge on the subject.”
    Fine Dining Lovers
    “Explores the flavorful potential of cooking vegetables.”
    Associated Press

    “Inventive . . . . From smoldering to savory, this delivers on every level.”
    Publishers Weekly

On Sale
May 10, 2022
Page Count
312 pages

Francis Mallmann

Francis Mallmann

About the Author

Francis Mallmann, author of Seven Fires and Mallmann on Fire, is the reigning star of food television in the Spanish-speaking world, and the most famous and popular chef in South America. His restaurants include Siete Fuegos at the Vines Resort & Spa in Argentina’s wine country; Patagonia Sur in Buenos Aires; El Garzón in Uruguay; 1884 Restaurante in Mendoza, Argentina (named one of Latin America’s 50 Best Restaurants); and Los Fuegos in Miami. USA Today and the Times (London) have named his restaurants among the top 10 places to eat in the world. Most recently, Mallmann was the subject of the Netflix documentary series Chef’s Table.


Peter Kaminsky is the author and coauthor of many books, including Pig Perfect, Culinary Intelligence, and Green Fire, Seven Fires, and Mallmann on Fire (with Francis Mallmann). He is a longtime contributor to Food & Wine and a former columnist for the New York Times and New York magazine. He was managing editor of National Lampoon. He lives in Brooklyn, New York.

Learn more about this author