Ginger

I love noodle bowls! What’s not to like? This one makes plain chicken noodle soup seem, well, really plain. The next time you want either take-out Asian food or just a bowl of chicken noodle soup, make this instead. It rules!

Thanks again, Ming Na!

We like roasting in salt because it transfers heat and flavor beautifully. Here we’ve combined the salt with ginger and egg whites to form a crust around the whole beets. The roasting process sweetens and intensifies the flavor of the vegetables. The roasted beets peel easily and have a gentle, tender texture. Their surface layer will be well seasoned and the flavor of the ginger will have permeated their interior. Remember, almost any aromatics can be blended with the salt: lemongrass, cumin, star anise—the pantry is your palette.

We love the indulgence of individual soufflés straight out of the oven. These are the perfect winter dessert; the spicy gingerbread flavors permeate every delicate bite. You can top them with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream and enjoy the play of hot and cold, spicy and sweet. Or you can pour on a little hard sauce or crème anglaise or even eat them plain. If you love gingerbread, you will be very happy with these light, airy soufflés.

We love the complex flavors of this puree. We like to serve it with the Twice-Cooked Scallops (page 25). It also goes well with salmon, turkey, corned beef, and the Root Beer–Braised Short Ribs (page 226). The smokiness gives the mixture a rich meaty taste and enhances the sweetness of the dried fruits. Rest assured, though—even if you don’t have smoked fruits, you can use the regular dried version and still enjoy something special.

When we think of kimchi we tend to picture the classic kind found in Asian supermarkets, which is made primarily with Napa cabbage stained red from the chili powder and pungent with garlic. Interestingly, although that is indisputably the most popular variation, kimchi can be made with a wide array of vegetables and spices, with regional variations that affect the ingredients used and levels of heat and spice. Here we’ve used red cabbage for two reasons. The first is because we like its sweet flavor and slightly sturdy texture. The second, more practical, reason is that these fermented pickles are generally deemed ready when enough lactic acid is produced to change the pH from 6.5 to approximately 3.5. Red cabbage juice changes color at this pH and becomes a bright reddish-purple, giving you a visual cue when fermentation is complete. Kimchi is a surprisingly good condiment for grilled hot dogs. It is a great way to doctor up packaged ramen at home. In place of coleslaw on a sandwich, it can add an unexpected kick to anything from corned beef on rye to pulled pork on soft white bread. Its heat and tang are wonderful for cutting through rich ingredients, and as a substitute for sauerkraut in choucroute, it is utterly delicious.

Sheila Malovany-Chevallier is a typical Parisian expat, one who lives a fascinating life. She and her husband, Bill, reside in a bohemian artist’s apartment in the Latin Quarter during the week, and in the countryside, near Dijon, on weekends. Spending her work time teaching English at the Institute d’Etudes Politiques, and doing a new translation of Simone de Beauvoir’s Second Sex, she would seem unlikely to have time to cook. But not only have she and her writing partner, Constance Borde, also an American living in Paris, written several American cookbooks in French, with all the Jewish recipes with which Sheila grew up, but when she is invited to dinner, she makes a point of bringing every hostess an elegantly packaged sweet she has made herself. These ginger cookie clusters are one of her and my favorites.

The original Soufflé Rothschild, created for James Rothschild by Antonin Carême, was a baked soufflé embellished with gold leaf. Since then, there have been all kinds of “Rothschild” soufflés, salads, and other dishes— the name is used to denote extravagance or richness. This frozen soufflé Rothschild was conceived by the famous pastry chef Gaston Le Nôtre, for a grand dinner at the home of one of the Rothschilds. It was served to me at a dinner party in Paris, and is one of the most delicious desserts I have ever tasted. Neither an ice cream nor a sorbet, it is technically a bavaroise glacée, a frozen parfait based on eggs and cream. The best part of this recipe is that it is quite quick to make. Just watch— your guests will sneak back for seconds and thirds!

To the Horror of chef Daniel Rose (see page 68) of Spring Restaurant in Paris, it is impossible to find an American brisket in France. It just doesn’t exist. American butchers tend to cut larger pieces of meat. Five- or six-pound briskets (poitrines) or huge rib-eye steaks (entrecôtes) are the result of sawing through the muscle or the shoulder section of the animal. French butchers, by contrast, cut around the contours of the muscles to yield more tender but much smaller pieces. French Jews tend to use a breast of veal that usually has a pocket inside it for stuffing for their brisket. In this version, Daniel applies French techniques to make a perfectly delicious brisket with a subtle hint of orange in the sauce. I always make this dish a day in advance.

The recipe for these Knepfle, also known as quenelles de matzo or the more prosaic matzo balls, came from Madame Maryse Weil of Besançon, the late mother-in-law of my friend Nanou, French matzo balls, often called boulettes in French and Knödeln in German, are made from stale bread or matzo sheets, soaked in water and dried. These dumplings are neither as big as American matzo balls—they are the size of walnuts rather than golf balls—nor as fluffy, since no baking powder is used. Like many middle-class women in her day, Madame Weil rarely cooked but instead guided those who cooked in her kitchen. Her original recipe read, “Take as many eggs as goose fat. Mix well; add salt, pepper, and ginger and enough matzo meal so you can roll them.” Many of the old recipes, including this one, often substitute marrow for the goose fat. I prefer to cook the matzo balls in boiling salted water and then immediately transfer them with a slotted spoon to homemade chicken broth. This way I can make them in advance, and the soup remains clear.

Chef Daniel Rose starts his day in the kitchen at 7:30 a.m. He begins with the chicken broth, first browning chicken wings, then adding a wine reduction, and then water, leeks, and other aromatics, but never carrots. “This isn’t the way my grandmother would have done it,” Daniel told me. “But we don’t want so much sweetness in our soup.” He doesn’t bother with a bouquet garni: “I just stick the herbs in the pot.” Freeze any broth that you don’t use right away.

At all of India’s roadside stalls, Masala Chai is served already sweetened. I have added about 1 teaspoon sugar per cup in this recipe, which makes the tea just mildly sweet. You may double that amount, if you prefer.

Here is a condiment that I just cannot live without. You can add a dollop to curries or use it as you might any prepared mustard. It perks up hot dogs, my husband smears it on bacon and ham, it goes with roast beef, and it is a lovely, pungent addition to sandwiches. We always keep a jar in the refrigerator. Try smearing it on fresh pineapple slices to serve with a curry meal or a ham or pork roast (see next recipe), or use it to make Vegetable Pickle (see page 258).

Yogurt relishes are eaten with meals throughout India. They are nearly always savory, though in western states like Gujarat a little sugar is added as well as the salt to give a sweet-sour-salty flavor.

At Bengali banquets, this chutney, along with deep-fried, puffed white-flour breads (loochis) and pappadoms, is served as the penultimate course, just before the dessert. Here in the Western world, I tend to serve it with the main meal: I layer it thickly on hamburgers, serve dollops with fried chicken and roast lamb, use it as a spread for cheese sandwiches, and, at Indian meals, offer it as a relish with my kebabs and curries.

Lemon grass is grown on the edges of the more precipitous slopes of Sri Lanka’s numerous tea gardens. Some of these plantations are visible from the front patio of Ena’s mountain bungalow. Lemon grass keeps insects away, and its long roots hold back the soil. I had this aromatic and festive dish in the museum-like home of Sri Lankan batik artist Ena de Silva, where it was served with dozens of curries and relishes. You may serve this at banquets and family meals alike. It goes well with coconut-milk-based curries, such as Kerala-Style Chicken Curry.

Red lentils, sold in Indian shops as skinless masoor dal and in some places as Egyptian red lentils, usually come in various shades of salmon pink. They originated in the Middle East but came into India quite early and are eaten throughout North India. This particular dish may be served with most Indian meals. It also happens to be particularly scrumptious over a pasta such as penne or fusilli.

Here is an everyday dish with a fair number of ingredients. Once you have them all prepared and assembled, the rest is fairly easy. Remember that you can chop the onions in a food processor. I have used two 15-ounce cans of organic chickpeas, draining them to separate the liquid so I can measure it. If you are not using organic canned chickpeas, use water instead of the can liquid. If the can liquid is not enough, add water to get the correct amount. Serve with Indian or Middle Eastern breads (you can even roll up the chickpeas inside them) with Yogurt Sambol with Tomato and Shallot, page 249, on the side. At a dinner, add meat and a vegetable.

I make this curry through the summer, whenever tomatoes overrun the vegetable garden, and then freeze some to last me through the winter. This may be served as a vegetarian curry at an Indian meal or as a gloppy, spicy sauce to ladle over hamburgers, grilled fish, and baked or boiled potatoes.