Leafy Greens

Cobb Salad was born in the 1920s at Hollywood’s Brown Derby restaurant, where a restaurant manager by the name of Bob Cobb created it as a way to recycle leftovers. The classic vinaigrette dressing really makes this salad, which traditionally contains finely chopped chicken, bacon, hard-boiled eggs, cheese, and lettuce. All the ingredients are chopped and arranged to give a colorful presentation. I like the chicken when it’s grilled because it adds a smoky flavor and a pleasing crunchiness. If you prefer, you can also sear the chicken over high heat. Store Cobb dressing in the refrigerator and use leftovers within several days.

This is a real deli-lovers sandwich, topped with Emmenthaler, which is a good sharp Swiss cheese. You’ll have enough Russian dressing for six sandwiches; you can keep the extra for a week in the refrigerator.

This classic sandwich relies on good ripe tomatoes, thickly sliced bacon, and top-quality crusty bread. Although you might normally shun iceberg lettuce, this is one instance where its crunchiness is welcome. Feel free, of course, to substitute another lettuce such as romaine.

A delicious and painless way to sneak more vegetables into the brunch, these crêpes are good for when brunch tilts more in the direction of breakfast. You can make the filling a day in advance and store it, tightly covered, in the refrigerator. Warm it over low heat before using it as a filling.

Fresh spinach and creamy Brie make a delectable combination, especially in an omelet. One big bunch of spinach yields only about 1 cup of cooked spinach, but it is enough for three or four omelets. You will need about 1/3 cup of steamed, chopped spinach for each omelet. Serve with Butter and Parsley Potatoes (page 222).

These colorful scones are crumbly and rich from the combination of Cheddar cheese and spinach. A more substantial scone than some of the sweet ones, these go well with just about any salad and are also good with a frittata.

A marrow for supper will generally coincide with the leaves turning on the trees, the first early morning mists, new school uniform. Their bulk and their bargain-basement price ensure that they will make a cheap supper. For this, we love them. This filling—earthy, sloppy, and much nicer than ground meat—is good for pumpkin too.

Early February, icy-cold day. I find great spinach in the shops but little to go with it. I grab a bag of those factory-made vacuum-packed gnocchi that always make me feel as if I have just eaten a duvet. With cream, blue cheese, and spinach, they have a rib-sticking quality that would keep out arctic cold, let alone a bit of urban chill. Sometimes I just need food like this.

Crisp toast, lightly burned at the edges, with a cargo of melting cheese is to my mind the ultimate snack. Spike it with mustard and I am probably at my happiest, but I do play around with the genre too: a layer of apple or homemade chutney under the cheese; a few bitter leaves of chicory or hot watercress on the side; a few capers, maybe. Sometimes I take the recipe up a notch to give something that is more of a meal than a snack. Like when I trap a layer of cooked spinach between bread and cheese, or just mix the two together and give them a crust of toasted Parmesan. I could add that this is also a sound way of using bits of cheese that have accumulated in the fridge.

A huge pie, lighter and (slightly) less trouble than a lasagne, this is as satisfying as winter food gets. Even with top-notch chicken and heavy cream, it is hardly an expensive supper, and it feeds four generously (some of us went back for seconds).

The cream sauce of a vegetable gratin is something I like to eat with brown basmati rice, but barley, couscous, or quinoa would be just as suitable.

The classic Indian spinach dish saag aloo, where spinach and potatoes are added to spiced and softened onions, is often cooked a while longer than I would like it to be. Authentically, the spinach goes in before the potatoes, so that it makes an impromptu sauce. Delicious. But I sometimes make it less than classically, keeping the spinach almost whole and adding it last, so that it comes to the table singing brightly, more as an ingredient than a “sauce.”

There is no fish I can think of that doesn’t work with spinach. But where creamed spinach seems perfectly fine with a steak of halibut or haddock, the richer, oily fish such as salmon are more appropriately matched to the leaves in a simpler state. A mouthful of lemon salad, at once breathtakingly sharp, is more than at home on the same fork as a piece of salmon or a bunch of meltingly soft spinach. Bring all three together and you have a dish of extraordinary vitality.

The white sauce way. Yes, it’s a drag to make white sauce, but what you end up with here is creamed spinach of extraordinary solace and luxury.

Making creamed spinach without the traditional backbone of white sauce produces a quicker, greener, and slightly fresher-tasting result. It makes up in speed and greenness what it loses in nannying quality.