Onion

This is a dish of onion and sweet peppers cooked slowly until they are very soft and caramelized. It is a good filling for omelets or side dish for roasted meats.

The simplest guacamole is made with avocado, onions, jalapeño, lime, salt, and cilantro. The amounts of the ingredients can vary; guacamole is very forgiving. The important things are to taste for a balance of salt, heat, and acid and to make the guacamole taste the way you like it.

This pie makes a good picnic breakfast.

A panade is a thick soup made of layers of bread, vegetables, and cheese moistened with broth or water and baked until soft and golden. This onion panade is a hearty, homey soup bursting with sweet onion flavor.

Tabbouleh is a Lebanese salad made with bulgur wheat, chopped herbs, and tomatoes. It is a spectacular salad, green and fresh, with more herbs than grain. Bulgur wheat is made from wheat grains that have been parboiled or steamed and then dried. It requires only quick cooking or soaking.

There is a long list of variations of savory galettes and most of them begin with sautéed onions. Sautéed onions are the perfect foil for the crisp, buttery crust of a tart. When combined with other vegetables, onions add protective moisture and deep flavor as the tart bakes in the oven. The pastry can also be rolled into long thin rectangular tarts, which can be cut into small pieces that make very popular finger food for a party. Surprisingly, onions vary quite a bit, and not just in appearance. Sometimes they cook quickly and are so juicy they need to be drained before they can be used; other times they take a long time to soften and don’t give off any liquid to speak of. Onions with very thin skins are usually much more sweet and juicy, while those with very hard, dark, golden skins tend to take longer to cook. All onions will eventually soften and be delicious, but when given the choice, I recommend selecting large onions that have a delicate, thin, lighter skin. In the summer, when they are in season, sweet Walla Walla, Vidalia, or Bermuda onions make excellent tarts, baking up almost as sweet as honey. In the spring there are fresh onions, or spring onions, that have not been dried and cured, and still have their green stalks attached. Peel them and trim off their stalks, slice them thick, and cook until just soft. The flavor of spring onions is delicate and less sweet than that of mature cured onions. The right amount of onions cooked to the right consistency is what makes a good tart. Pile the onions into a low-sided, heavy-bottomed pan with a generous amount of fat, and cook them slowly with herbs until soft and tasty; this will take at least 30 minutes. The onions must be cooled before they are spread onto the pastry or they will melt the butter before the tart bakes. The onions should be moist but not dripping wet or the tart will be soggy. If the onions are too juicy, drain them. Save the juice; it can be reduced and served with the tart as a little sauce or added to a vinaigrette. If the onions are still juicy, even after draining, sprinkle a little flour over the pastry (avoiding the border), before adding the onions, to soak up some of the juice while the tart cooks. Bake on the lowest rack of the oven for a crust that is crisp and golden brown on the bottom. Check the underside by gently lifting up the tart with a spatula. When the tart is fully baked, slide it off the pan onto a cooling rack to rest. If left on the baking pan to cool, it will steam and the pastry will not stay crisp. Once you have mastered a basic onion tart, there are many variations you can try: add sliced sweet or hot peppers to the sautéing onions about halfway through cooking; grate some summer squash and stir it into the onions during their last few minutes of sautéing; or, before you fill the tart, while the onions are cooling, stir in either seasoned cherry tomato halves or roasted, peeled, and sliced peppers. You can also top the layer of onions with sliced tomatoes or lightly grilled slices of eggplant. For a sweet and savory tart, mix chopped roasted figs into the onions. Other variations include sprinkling the pastry with grated cheese or brushing it with a slurry of chopped herbs and olive oil before spreading on the onions. Artichoke hearts also can either be sautéed and stirred into the onions, or sliced and baked and arranged on top of them; when the tart comes out of the oven, try painting it with garlic and herb butter. And most of the year you can mix the onions with sautéed greens—collards, chard, spinach, broccoli rabe, or mustard. Or when the tart has only 10 minutes left to bake, top it with anchovies and black olives.

Once the dish is assembled, braised chicken legs take less than an hour to cook, and they can be combined with almost any herbs, spices, and vegetables. Their meat is tender and succulent, their sauce concentrated and tasty. Legs are the best choice for a braise, but breasts may be included for those who prefer white meat. Just keep in mind that in order to remain tender and juicy, breasts need to cook for a much shorter time. Start by seasoning the legs with salt and pepper. If time allows, do this a day ahead. Leave the legs whole, or cut them through the joint to separate them into thighs and drumsticks. Brown them in a cast-iron or other heavy pan over medium heat, in a generous amount of oil, skin side down. Or for more flavor, use a mixture of oil and butter. It takes about 12 minutes to get the skin really crisp and golden brown. Take the time to do this or you will be disappointed in the end, because if there is only superficial color on the skin it will wash off in the braise, leaving the skin pale and unappetizing. Once the skin is browned, turn the pieces and cook briefly on the other side, about 4 minutes (there is no skin to crisp on this side and the meat will brown quickly). Remove the chicken legs from the pan and pour off the fat. Add wine, tomatoes, broth, or water to deglaze the pan, scraping up any brown bits stuck to the bottom of the pan. Cook the aromatic vegetables in a bit of oil as directed or add them raw to the pan. Arrange the chicken legs, skin side up, on the vegetables, and pour in the deglazing juices and broth or water to come halfway up the sides of the legs. Bring to a boil, turn down to a simmer, cover the pan, and cook for 45 minutes. Or bake in a 325° F oven. When the chicken legs are cooked, remove them from the pan and discard any loose herb stems or bay leaves or bouquet garni (squeezing it first to extract any juices). Strain the juices into a small pan or bowl and skim off all the fat. Taste the sauce and add salt if needed. Reunite all the parts, plus any vegetables that have been cooked separately, and serve at once or reheat later. If there is too much sauce, reduce it to concentrate the flavors. The salt will concentrate, too, so don’t add any more until the sauce has finished reducing. When braising chicken breasts, do not remove the skin or the bones; they both contribute flavor and help keep the meat moist and tender. Remove the first two joints of the wing by cutting through the joint. Leave the breasts whole or cut them in two so that the thicker wing portion is slightly smaller. Season and brown the breast pieces with the legs. Add the browned breasts with their resting juices to the pan after the legs have been cooking for 30 minutes. There is another method for braising chicken legs. The legs are cooked in the oven, covered, until tender and uncovered and browned at the end. This works especially well when cooking for a crowd, but is not suitable for breasts. Nestle the seasoned legs, skin side down, into the aromatic vegetables (cooked or not, as required by the recipe) with the herbs and spices. Pour in enough wine and stock or water to reach halfway up the legs. To save time, bring the stock to a boil before adding. Cover the dish tightly and bake in a 350°F oven for 40 minutes, or until the legs are tender. Uncover the dish and turn the legs over. If the liquid is so deep it covers the legs, pour enough off to fully expose the skin and reserve it for later. Return the legs to the oven, uncovered, and cook until they are golden brown on top, about 20 minutes. Skim the sauce and serve as above.

Good choices for stew meat are oxtails, shanks, beef chuck, short ribs, pork shoulder, beef cheeks, lamb shoulder, and lamb neck. These cuts all have lots of connective tissue and fat to make them tender and full of flavor. For stew, the meat is cut into smaller pieces. Have your butcher cut bony cuts such as short ribs and lamb shanks into 2-inch lengths. Cut boneless meat such as chuck or shoulder into 1 1/2-inch cubes. The pieces may be cut larger for a more rustic stew, but cut any smaller they tend to fall apart when cooked. If you are buying beef that has already been cut up for stew, ask what cut it is from. Most meat counters use top and bottom round, which I find too lean to make a good stew; they cook up dry. Ask the butcher to cut some chuck into stew meat for you instead, or buy a large piece and cut it at home. Season the meat with salt and pepper. If you have the time, season it a day ahead. If you make a marinade, stir the meat now and then while it is marinating; this will help the marinade flavor the meat evenly. Any vegetables in the marinade I first cook slightly in a bit of oil, for more flavor. Let them cool before adding to the meat. Brown the meat well in a fair amount of oil, lard, or fat. Don’t crowd the pieces; brown them in as many batches as necessary. You can use the same oil for each batch as long as the pan does not burn. If it does, wipe out the pan and continue with fresh oil. When the meat is browned, drain the fat from the pan and deglaze the pan with wine, tomatoes, broth, or water. Short ribs and oxtails are some of my favorite stewing cuts, because they make such a flavorful sauce. These cuts can be browned in the oven: Preheat the oven to 450°F; lay the meat out on a rack in a shallow pan; and cook until the meat is brown and the fat is rendered. With this method there is no pan to deglaze, but it is quicker and easier than browning on the stovetop. If the aromatic vegetables are to be left in the stew, cut them into even, medium-size pieces. If they are to be discarded at the end, leave them in large chunks, for easy removal. Put the vegetables, meat, and deglazing liquid into a pot. Choose a pot large enough to accommodate the meat in two, or possibly three, layers. If the meat is piled higher than this, the bottom layer will cook and fall apart before the upper layers are done. Stirring doesn’t really help this much, and the chance of sticking and burning is much greater. Add broth or water, as the recipe asks, almost to the top of the meat, but do not submerge it. When I am using a marinade that is mostly wine, I like to reduce it (boil it down) by half or more before adding it to the pot. This removes the raw taste of the wine and allows room for more broth, which makes a richer sauce. Bring the liquid to a boil, then turn the heat down to a bare simmer, and cover the pot. Use a flame tamer if necessary to keep the stew from boiling. Or cook the stew in a preheated 325°F oven. If the stew boils hard there’s a good chance the meat will fall apart and the sauce emulsify (the fat and the liquid bind together, which makes the sauce murky). Check the pot now and then to monitor the cooking and the level of the liquid; add more broth or water if needed. Cook until the meat is very tender. This will take anywhere from 2 to 4 hours depending on what cut is being used. There should be very little or no resistance when the meat is poked with a small knife or skewer. When the meat is done, skim the sauce well, removing as much of the fat as you can. This is much easier to do after the simmering has stopped and the liquid has had a chance to settle. The sauce may be strained, but do so carefully: the meat is very delicate now and can fall apart. If the stew is being served another day, the fat can be simply lifted off after chilling in the refrigerator. Thicken a thin or watery sauce with a mixture of one part flour stirred together with one part soft butter. Wh...

A pilaf is a savory dish of rice that has first been sautéed in fat and then cooked in a seasoned liquid. (It differs from a risotto in that the liquid is entirely absorbed.) Depending on the recipe, a pilaf may also include nuts, spices, a few vegetables, or even a complex meat stew. I make mostly simple pilafs, such as the red rice pilaf that follows, to go with quesadillas and black beans, or a basmati rice pilaf with saffron and onions to eat with a vegetable ragout. Long-grain rice is usually used in pilafs, although some cuisines use short-grain rice. Sautéing the rice before adding the liquid enriches the flavor of the dish and coats each grain in fat. This, along with thorough washing, keeps the rice from sticking together or clumping. Olive oil and butter are the most commonly used fats. To avoid burning the butter while sautéing the rice, add a little oil to it, or use clarified butter (see page 125). Onion is usually sautéed for a few minutes in the fat before the rice is added. After the rice is sautéed, a flavorful liquid is poured over it and brought to a boil. The pilaf is simmered, covered, until all the liquid has been absorbed, about 15 minutes. Depending on their cooking times, vegetables and meats are added sometimes with the liquid, sometimes after the rice has been cooking for a while. The tomato in the red rice pilaf here is added at the beginning to color the rice evenly. When done, pilafs should be allowed to rest for about 10 minutes before serving.

The simple soup I make most often starts with a base of softened onions to which one or two vegetables are added. The soup is moistened with broth or water and simmered until the vegetables are tender. First, onions are gently cooked in butter or oil until soft and flavorful. A heavy-bottomed pot makes all the difference for this: it disperses the heat evenly, making it easier to cook vegetables slowly without browning. The amount of fat is important, too. You want enough butter or oil to really coat the onions. After 15 minutes or so of slow cooking, the onions will be transformed into a very soft, translucent, sweet base for the soup. Next, add a vegetable, such as carrots, sliced uniformly for even cooking. (Otherwise you will have underdone and overdone vegetables in your soup.) Salt generously (enough for the vegetables to taste good on their own) and continue cooking for a few minutes. This preliminary seasoning and cooking infuses the fat with the perfume and flavor of the vegetables. (The fat disperses the flavor throughout the soup.) This is an important technique, not just for soup but for cooking in general: building and developing flavor at each step before moving on. Now add broth or water, bring to a boil, and reduce to a simmer. Cook until the vegetables are tender but not falling apart. The soup will not taste finished until the vegetables have cooked through and given their flavor to the broth. Keep tasting. It is wonderful to discover how the flavors change and develop as the soup cooks. Does it need more salt? If you’re unsure, season a small spoonful and see if it tastes better with more. This is the only way you can find out. Many, many vegetables will make great soup when you follow this formula. The only variable is the length of time they take to cook. The best way to keep track is to keep tasting as you go. Some favorite vegetable soups that jump to mind are: turnip and turnip greens, corn, potato and leek, butternut squash, and onion. A vegetable soup made this way, with a flavorful stock rather than water, and served as a rustic “brothy” soup, will be delicious. (In fact, if the broth is rich enough, I sometimes skip any precooking in butter and add both onions and vegetables directly to the simmering broth.) If the soup is made with water instead of broth, and puréed to a uniform texture, the result will be a more delicate soup dominated by the pure flavor of the vegetables themselves. This is especially desirable for soups made from such sweet, tender vegetables as fava beans, peas, or corn. I purée such soups through a food mill, but you can also use a blender, which generates finer purées. Do be careful when using a blender to purée hot soup: always make sure the lid has an open vent hole to let the steam escape so that the whole lot doesn’t explode. Various garnishes and enrichments can be added when you serve the soup. Many cooks finish a puréed soup by spooning in a dollop of cream or stirring in a lump of butter, and a last-minute addition of herbs and spices or a squeeze of lemon can be enlivening. But use discretion; a garnish can overcomplicate or overpower the flavor of the soup itself.

A salad of many ingredients, either all tossed together or dressed separately and arranged on a plate, is called a “composed” salad. A composed salad such as the Greek salad that follows is a hearty dish; with some crusty bread, it could be the main event of a dinner on a warm night. Or, a composed salad might be a delicate arrangement of, say, a few pieces of crabmeat, some grapefruit sections, and a little curly endive in a creamy dressing, served as an elegant first course. Almost anything can be an element in a composed salad: all the various lettuces and salad greens, of course, but also raw or cooked vegetables, chopped, diced, or cut into thin shavings; roasted meats cut into cubes or thin slices; tuna and other fish or shellfish; and hard-cooked eggs, quartered or chopped. Tasty leftovers can be delicious in a composed salad. Don’t combine too many ingredients into a single salad or it will have too many conflicting flavors. The components should be chosen thoughtfully with regard to the tastes and textures they contribute, and the dressing must complement them all. Sometimes a vinaigrette works best, when a tangy sauce is needed; sometimes mayonnaise, for mellow richness; at other times, a creamy sauce. A potato salad, for example, can be made with any of these dressings, and each will yield a distinctly different salad. When dressing a composed salad that includes both tender lettuces and heavier ingredients such as artichoke hearts or pieces of fruit, dress all the heavier elements separately and arrange them around the tossed lettuces on a platter. Otherwise the salad is hard to serve because everything ends up at the bottom and the leaves get crushed. Even salads that have no lettuce should be assembled carefully. What’s most important is that each ingredient be tasty on its own. Taste everything and season each element with a little salt or dressing as needed before adding it to the whole. When things are tossed together, don’t overmix, or the parts will start to lose their distinctiveness, muddying the flavors and spoiling the look of the salad. (You can always arrange a salad and drizzle vinaigrette over it, or even pass the vinaigrette in a pitcher.) As for what to include in such a salad and how to dress it, taste each ingredient before you decide. That is really the only rule you must follow, and while it may sound frustratingly vague, as you acquire a little salad-making experience, you’ll begin to recognize and remember the flavors you like and the ones that you like together.

In Mexico, pickled onions are to taco stands what pickle relish is to a hot dog cart in the U.S.—a condiment that taco-lovers can’t do without. Make it at home and save yourself the trip across the border.

In Mexico pico de gallo is used to describe a wide variety of regional salsas, which are always made with cubed fresh fruit and/ or vegetables. Pico de gallo is also known as salsa picada, which means minced or chopped sauce. The most common version is made with red tomatoes, onion, and green chiles and is sometimes called salsa mexicana or salsa bandera, because the colors in the salsa represent those of the Mexican flag. I like to make mine with yellow tomatoes when I am in the mood for a sweeter salsa. Feel free to use red tomatoes if you want to keep it traditional.

The state of Veracruz is the main growing region for chayote, a gourd that is eaten throughout Mexico and was once the principal food for Mayans and Aztecs. My family often serves it steamed, with a lime wedge. Here it is paired in perfect balance with spicy chorizo for an even tastier side dish.

The thing I love the most about Mexico is that everything has a story. In this recipe the word pibil comes from a Mayan word for stone-lined pits, used for cooking underground. Today pibil refers to the technique of steaming meat in a sealed dish in the oven. In the Yucatán, where this dish comes from, it is prepared with Seville oranges, which are tart and bitter. These oranges aren’t readily available in other areas, including Baja, so here we add lime juice to give that distinctive kick.

When it comes to pork loins, I am very much in favor of brining. You do have to start a day ahead, but the end result is succulent and juicy.

This is great served with grilled flank steak and ice-cold beer or lemonade. Stuck indoors? A grill pan for the corn yields an equally delicious summer salad.

I’ve given an American Southern staple an Italian spin with the addition of Parmesan. The cornmeal makes these biscuits sturdy enough to pack on a picnic, and you can stuff them with smoked salmon (my fave), sliced turkey or ham, or even grilled veggies. Hot out of the oven, they are pretty terrific with just a bit of lemon butter.

This is what most Americans are talking about when they say salsa. You can make it hot or not, as you like; it’s a good use for less-than-perfect tomatoes and an excellent sauce–side dish accompaniment for anything grilled, particularly seafood.

You can find fresh Chinese-style (and Japanese-style) wheat noodles at most supermarkets these days. They’re a great convenience food and, for some reason, seem to me more successful than prepackaged “fresh” Italian noodles. Here they’re briefly cooked and then combined with a stir-fried mixture of pork, vegetables, and Chinese sauces; it’s very much a Chinese restaurant dish. Both ground bean sauce and hoisin sauce can be found at supermarkets (if you can’t find ground bean sauce, just use a little more hoisin), but you can usually find a better selection (and higher-quality versions) at Chinese markets. Usually, the fewer ingredients they contain, the better they are.