When I began reviewing cookbooks, my mother, an ardent home cook, shared her personal approach to judging culinary literature. A twist on “don’t judge a book by its cover,” it is this: If the photos are glossy and beautifully staged, the recipes are worthless.

Like any self-respecting daughter, I try to ignore maternal pronouncements as much as possible. But as I pored through “Mantra: The Rules of Indulgence” (Ecco, 214 pages, $34.95) by Jehangir Mehta, I couldn’t help but wonder if Mom had a point.

The chef and owner of Graffiti, a food and wine bar in the East Village; the creator of the catering, retail, and cooking-class business Partistry, and a former pastry chef at Jean-Georges, Mercer Kitchen, and Aix, Mr. Mehta has earned a reputation for elegant and distinctively savory desserts that draw inspiration from his Indian heritage.

His fans — and serious home chefs eager for a challenge — will doubtless enjoy “Mantra,” which contains intricate confections that would serve as worthy finales to dinner parties. And the book doubles as first-rate food porn: Artistic photos and poetically exotic ingredients make it a pleasure to peruse.

In spite of (or, if my mother’s axiom is correct, because of) its beauty, “Mantra” has many frustrating qualities — at least for the everyday cook. For starters, the demand for hard-to-find ingredients is intense. Almost every recipe requires a trip to at least one specialty food store, and I don’t mean Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s. Among the foodstuffs called for: dried lavender, shiso leaves, charoli nuts (also known as chironji), kokum (a type of dark purple plum), coconut puree, paillette feuilletine, yuzu juice, and fresh verbena leaves. If you’re devoted to obtaining correct ingredients, try calling Indian grocers in Manhattan (Kalustyan’s) or Queens (Patel Brothers), and Japanese stores, too (Sunrise Mart and JAS Mart). Otherwise, it’s worth Googling around for substitutions: Charoli nuts, for one, can be substituted with almonds or pistachios. (You’ll have to do most of your own research, though, as Mr. Mehta only rarely offers substitution suggestions.)

You will likely need to shop for utensils, as well. Steamed Chocolate Buns with Cinnamon Crème Fraîche calls for caramelizing sugar with a blowtorch, a tool few home chefs own — let alone know how to caramelize sugar with. Mr. Mehta’s carrot cake requires “individual rings, each 2 inches in diameter by 3 inches tall,” items I couldn’t quite visualize. In the end, I improvised with a Bundt pan (adjusting the baking time), which was not especially elegant, but it did the trick. Another substitution might be muffin cups.

Adding to the frustrations in “Mantra” is that the recipe instructions are often confusing. At times, even everyday ingredients are made complicated, as in the carrot cake recipe’s inexplicable note: “preferably supermarket carrots or farmers’ market carrots.” What other type of carrot is there, other than homegrown — and why wouldn’t that be acceptable? In Yogurt Pancakes with Rhubarb Compote, the recipe instructs one to prepare strawberry puree by using “an additional 1/2 pound of strawberries” (emphasis mine) — yet no strawberries are called for in the recipe, causing me to check again and again to see if I’d overlooked another strawberry reference.

Along with these quirks, the recipes rarely bother to explain things that an amateur might like to know, such as just how long to cool the rhubarb compote in the refrigerator, how exactly to give fennel ice cream an “ice bath,” and exactly what constitutes a “medium-size” piece of fennel.

Many of the recipes sound like so much work it is hard to imagine anyone other than a professional pastry chef embarking on them. The note at the top of Verbena-Chocolate Tart, for example, urges the reader to make twice as many tart shells “because tart shells tend to break while baking.” (The tart shells themselves are a lengthy process.)

Disappointingly, the ayurvedic ideas Mr. Mehta mentions in the book’s introduction are never fully developed. Only one paragraph on Page 1 explains that some foods are thought to have specific physical effects. But the food facts accompanying many of the recipes are not especially enlightening: Rarely does Mr. Mehta provide more information than a quick search on Wikipedia would turn up.

Ultimately, I found myself wondering if “Mantra” was, like many books by prominent chefs, less a cookbook than an advertisement. Is Mr. Mehta’s goal to seduce readers with the photos, only to frighten them with the prospect of sourcing out betel leaves — in hopes that they will ultimately opt instead for reservations at Graffiti?

Nonetheless, the adventurous cook willing to tolerate the book’s quirks will find it a treasure trove of inspiration and fresh ideas. And, never fear: Those suspiciously glam photos will soon be stained with tamarind paste, duck fat, and the like.

Fennel Ice Cream

Adapted from Jehangir Mehta’s “Mantra: The Rules of Indulgence” (Ecco)

2 fennel bulbs, trimmed

2 cups milk

2 cups heavy cream

½ cup sugar

12 medium egg yolks

Makes 1 quart

1) Chop the fennel into medium-size pieces.

2) Combine the milk, the cream, and ¼ cup of the sugar into a medium saucepan. Heat over a high flame, stirring occasionally. Once the milk reaches a boil, switch off the heat and add the fennel. Steep for about 30 minutes.

3) Bring back to a boil. In a medium heatproof bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and the remaining ¼ cup sugar. While whisking, slowly add half of the hot milk mixture. Pour the yolk mixture back into the saucepan with the rest of the hot milk. Whisk for 10 seconds. Remove from the heat.

4) Fill a large (preferably stainless steel) bowl with ice.

5) Place the bowl with the milk mixture on top of the ice and let the mixture cool in the ice bath. Strain through a fine sieve into an ice-cream machine. Process according to the manufacturer’s directions and transfer to the freezer.

Strawberry-Lemongrass Jam

Adapted from Jehangir Mehta’s “Mantra: The Rules of Indulgence” (Ecco)

1 pound farmers’ market strawberries, cleaned

4 cups sugar

Grated zest of 4 limes

1 cup strawberry puree (see note below)

6 stalks lemongrass, tough outer leaves removed

Makes 2 pints

1) Toss the strawberries, sugar, zest, and strawberry puree in a large bowl. Cover and refrigerate for at least 10 hours.

2) Transfer to a large heavy saucepan, and place over a medium-low flame, stirring occasionally. Cook the jam until its volume is reduced by half, about 1 hour.

3) Using a slotted spoon, remove the whole strawberries and set them aside.

4) With the back of a heavy knife, smash the stalks of lemongrass to break up the fibers. Cut the lemongrass into 2-inch lengths. Add the lemongrass to the jam and cook to 225° F, using a candy thermometer. Remove from the heat. Using a slotted spoon, carefully remove the lemongrass. Add back the whole strawberries and simmer for 15 minutes on low to medium heat.

5) Remove the jam from heat and allow it to cool. Ladle into two airtight 2-cup jars. Keep refrigerated.

* If the strawberry puree specified in the ingredients list is unavailable, you can make your own by mashing 1 additional pound of strawberries in a food processor and then reducing the puree to 1 cup in a saucepan over medium heat.

Yogurt Pancakes with Rhubarb Compote

Adapted from Jehangir Mehta’s “Mantra: The Rules of Indulgence” (Ecco)

For the compote:

1 pound rhubarb, peeled and chopped into small, even pieces

½ cup sugar

½ cup strawberry puree (see note below)

3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

For the pancakes:

4 medium egg whites

2 tablespoons sugar

½ cup unflavored yogurt

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour, sifted

2 turns of black pepper from a mill

Makes 4 servings

1) For the compote, combine the rhubarb, sugar, strawberry puree, and vinegar in a medium saucepan. Bring to a simmer over a medium flame. Cook, stirring occasionally, until it becomes thick, about 45 minutes. Transfer to a bowl, cover with plastic, and cool in the refrigerator.

2) For the pancakes, preheat the oven to 325° F.

3) Place the egg whites in the bowl of a standing mixer with a whisk attachment and whisk until frothy, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the sugar, and continue to whisk until the egg whites are medium-bodied and able to remain in a peak-like shape on the inverted whisk.

4) In a large bowl, whisk together the yogurt, flour, and pepper until completely mixed.

5) Using a spatula, gently place about one-third of the whipped egg whites on top of the yogurt, reach down to the bottom of the bowl, and fold the yogurt on top of the egg whites, continuing until the two are mixed. Repeat with the remaining egg whites.

6) Spray a large nonstick frying pan with oil and heat over a medium flame. Scoop out large tablespoons of batter to form small pancakes. Cook about 30 seconds on each side, or until they are a very light golden color. Transfer the pancakes to a nonstick baking sheet as they are done. Continue until all the batter has been used, spraying the pan again if necessary.

7) Place the baking sheet in the oven and heat the pancakes for about 1 minute. Serve immediately with the cold rhubarb compote.

* If the strawberry puree specified in the ingredients list is unavailable, you can make your own by mashing ½ pound of strawberries in a food processor and then reducing the puree to ½ cup in a saucepan over medium heat.