Leafy Greens

A simple version of Bouillabaisse (page 138) that uses only one type of fish and is thickened by aïoli, the wonderful garlicky mayonnaise of Provence and Liguria (also called “the Italian Riviera”). Ask your fishmonger to gut and fillet the fish and to give you the head and bones for the stock, which of course can be made in advance. (Within limits you can use as many heads and bones as you like. See Fish Stock, page 161.) Serve this stew with crusty bread and a salad.

Most people seem to adore chickpeas, and one of their strongest attributes is that, unlike other dried legumes, they produce delicious cooking liquid. So if you lack stock for this dish, don’t worry about it. But—and this is true for the several chickpea recipes that follow as well as this one—the cooking time for chickpeas is unpredictable. Cook the beans the day before you plan to make the soup if at all possible, or at least soak them for several hours to reduce the cooking time (or, in a pinch, use canned chickpeas). Once they’re done, the cooking time is just a few minutes. If you are so inclined, this soup remains equally authentic and becomes more substantial if you add 1/2 to 1 pound browned sausage chunks. You can brown the sausage right before the onions, in the same skillet.

Here sorrel brings both acidity and lightness to an often heavy mixture. You can substitute watercress or spinach for the sorrel to similar effect, especially if you add a squeeze of lemon at the end. Though it has only two primary ingredients, this soup is quite complex, particularly when you begin with good stock. The best lentils to use here are lentilles du Puy or other small dark green ones. Use the greenish brown variety only if you cannot find these.

I first ate this soupy stew (or stewy soup) at a lunch counter in Istanbul and was taken by its depth of flavor. It seemed that either the whole was greater than the sum of its parts or there were some hidden ingredients. It turned out to be the former, or nearly so; through an interpreter, I learned that the dish did not begin with stock but with water and that the only ingredient I was not seeing was a bit of garlic. The cook offered that one might add a bit of butter for richness but that he hadn’t done so with this batch. If you want to turn this into a more filling main course, use stock instead of water, add some cubed boneless chicken or lamb, season it with a little cumin or dill, and finish it with lemon. You’ll wind up with a bigger, more substantial Turkish-style stew, though not necessarily a better one.

The thyme really shines in this soup, which is unusual for its use of sautéed apples as a slightly crisp, sweet garnish. In the old days, during times of bounty, a piece of meat would be added with the cabbage; you can do that too, but the cooking process will get much longer. I find this light, first-course soup much more useful without it.

Like many dishes from India, this one contains a lot of ingredients and requires a fair amount of precooking work but is easy to assemble. If you can find fresh paneer—the simple cheese that appears in many Indian dishes—by all means use it. But tofu makes a great substitute. Serve over rice or as part of a larger Indian meal.

The Spanish version of Tempura (page 91), this produces a much thicker crust. It is most often made with shrimp, but you can use any seafood or vegetable or even bits of meat. It’s a simple but super flavorful frying technique. In much of Spain, olive oil is used for deep-frying, and it’s good; furthermore, it has become so inexpensive that it’s no longer impractical. But you can use a neutral oil, like corn or vegetable oil, if you prefer.

Similar to Tempura (recipe follows), these are usually made only with vegetables—but a very wide assortment—and the batter is best when prepared with chickpea flour (also called besan or gram flour and available at Indian and many Asian markets and most health food stores). Traditionally, the batter also often contains anardana, a powder made from ground pomegranate seeds—if you can find some (try the same stores that have besan), add a teaspoon to the batter, along with the garam masala. Pakora batter can also be fried on its own, as a fritter; mix a medium onion, chopped, into it, and drop it by the tablespoon into the hot oil.

Another good pancake starter or side dish. At their best hot, but still good warm. You can use frozen spinach for this if that’s all you have.

Okonomiyaki, a savory pancake, is a Japanese bar snack, something that you eat (or make) while you’re drinking. There are restaurants in Japan that make nothing but okonomiyaki, where you sit at a bar or table with a griddle set into it and pick what you want in your “pancake.” Everything is fair game, from sliced roasted pork to enoki mushrooms—even to the loose bits of fried batter that are a by-product of tempura called tenkasu. This batter, which includes shredded cabbage, is made in the style linked with Osaka; in Hiroshima, the other part of Japan where the pancake is popular, they add soba noodles to the batter. Obviously it’s a very flexible recipe. Here I use bean sprouts and peas, but vary it as you like. For example, omit the sprouts and peas and use 1/2 cup sliced squid and 1/2 cup asparagus tips; in the summer, substitute 1 cup fresh corn kernels scraped off the cob. You might look for Japanese Kewpie brand mayonnaise to finish the okonomiyaki; the container makes it easy to do the very 1980s squeeze bottle garnish of mayo and okonomiyaki sauce (which is like ketchup and also comes in a squeeze bottle, available at Japanese markets) that is part of the dish’s charm. Personally, what I like is the eerie way the bonito shimmy when they’re scattered across the pancake.

This well-known Philippine starter combines attributes of many of the wrapped foods of other countries. It’s filled like an egg roll, has an egg wrapper like a crêpe, and is served warm but not fried. All the components, which can be varied according to what you have in your kitchen, are cooked before assembly.

This finger food is popular in the south of China, Southeast Asia, and, of course, many American Chinese restaurants. It’s perfect for parties and super easy to make, especially with store-bought egg roll wrappers. They can be filled an hour or two ahead of time and fried immediately before serving or—though it isn’t ideal—fried an hour or two ahead of time and crisped in a warm oven later.

These are the pot stickers popular in Shanghai and many other southern Chinese cities. Panfried until crisp on the bottom and then cooked through by steaming, they have a delicious combination of crunch and chew in the dough and a springy, flavorful center. They are best served hot out of the pan (but beware of their tongue-burning juices!). Gyoza is the Japanese version of this type of dumpling and mandoo the Korean version. They may be filled with pork or have a vegetarian stuffing; usually, their skin is somewhat thinner. You can buy gyoza or mandoo skins at the market or just roll the Chinese skins a little thinner yourself. Dumplings may be filled and dusted with flour and refrigerated, covered, for a couple of hours or frozen for a few days. But they’re really best when cooked right after being filled. Leeks are usually full of sand. The easiest way to clean them in this recipe is to chop them, rinse in a strainer, and shake dry.

Though not traditional, fried wontons are extremely popular. They are an easy finger food for parties and a snack that your kids will love. If you’re making the wrappers, try to get 60 out of the dough, or you may have a little filling left over.

Chawan-mushi is an egg custard flavored with stock and soy and laced with a number of tasty tidbits. In Tokyo, I had a bowl that contained tiny amounts of myoga (a potent member of the ginger family), shrimp, chicken, ginkgo nut, and yuzu, an Asian citrus fruit. None of these is essential, and you can substitute for any or all of them, as I do here. The fillings, called gu, are supposed to be whatever you have on hand. If you have covered ramekins, they are ideal for this preparation. But covering the pot works just as well.

A tapa based on piquillo peppers (see page 47), which are sold in jars and cans at specialty food stores and many supermarkets and are naturals for stuffing.

A typical topping for crostini (and not a bad dish on its own), this hearty combination makes a great starter for a vegetarian meal. Cannellini beans are traditional here, but any white bean will work. The spread and bread may be made well in advance, but don’t combine them until just before serving.

I first had this appetizer as street food, near a market in Bangkok. The combination of raw ingredients normally used as flavoring agents for cooked dishes was intriguing and refreshing. The betel leaf used to hold everything together gave an additional bite to the dish. Betel leaves are impossible to find here, but the dish remains delicious with spinach leaves or even lettuce. If you’re not familiar with Thai fish sauce (nam pla), see page 500. You put it all together at the table, so it’s kind of fun. Serve this as the start to any meal featuring other food from Southeast Asia.

Compare this recipe, which is usually served cold as a panchan (small appetizer or side dish), with the Japanese version on page 184, and you’ll have a vision of the difference between Japanese and Korean cooking, which are closely linked and starkly different at the same time.

Carpaccio, now a staple at many high-end restaurants, even non-Italian ones, is a glorified version of this Piemontese specialty (in Tuscany and other parts of central Italy, an even simpler plate of cured meats is served routinely), which will provide a vibrant beginning to any dinner party. This dish depends on the flavor of olive oil, so break out the good stuff. The meat will be easier to cut into small pieces if you put it in the freezer for about half an hour first to firm it up a bit.