Potato

This vegetable stock is not unlike Jus Rôti (page 163) but without the meat—the roasting step adds a layer of flavor that is a welcome addition to otherwise one-dimensional vegetable stocks. Although this is hardly a bare-bones stock, the addition of mushrooms or more root vegetables (especially parsnips) will give it even more oomph.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but this is one of my favorite foods ever. Fifteen years ago, Julie Sahni, the great Indian cook and cookbook writer (her Classic Indian Cooking remains the best book on the subject published in the States), showed me how to make aloo paratha. I continued to follow her recipes for years and never ate a better one until I traveled to India (and even then I may have been influenced by the atmosphere, a truck stop near a mountaintop fort). This is essentially Julie’s recipe, with a few changes I’ve incorporated over the years. Cooked paratha will keep at room temperature for up to twenty-four hours and can be served without reheating or can be reheated quickly in a dry skillet or even a microwave. But there is nothing like one fresh from the skillet. Ajwain comes from carom seeds, which look like celery seeds but taste like very strong, slightly coarse thyme.

If you can’t find pizzocheri, a buckwheat pasta cut like fettuccine, you have two choices: make it yourself (page 542) or substitute any fettuccinelike pasta. If you can’t find Taleggio (already a compromise, because when I had this dish it was made with a local Alpine cheese whose name exists only in dialect), use fontina (real fontina, if you can find it, from the Valle d’Aosta), or another fairly strong but not too hard or harsh cheese.

Jota, often referred to as Slovenia’s national dish, is also found throughout Friuli, in extreme northeastern Italy, and especially in the area around Trieste. It’s a good one-dish meal, not unlike a soupy version of cassoulet. The addition of sauerkraut, however, cuts through the rich pork and the beans, and while it might not exactly “lighten” the dish, it makes it somewhat less dense. Buy “pure” sauerkraut—just cabbage and salt—packed in plastic bags or a barrel. Serve with good crusty bread.

This popular soup—a fun dish for a casual meal since the corn is left on the cob—is traditionally seasoned with the fragrant local herb guascas. Unfortunately, I’ve only rarely seen guascas in the States, so I use a combination of cumin and thyme, which approximates the real thing. Fortunately, you can often find yucca, also known as cassava, at most major supermarkets. This root vegetable, native to South America and largely grown in Africa and the Caribbean, has a subtle sweetness, not unlike yams. If you can find it, try the variation. Serve with arepas (page 575) or crusty bread.

Borscht, like gazpacho, is difficult to define; there are more versions than you can count. But at least we know they all (or almost all, anyway) contain beets (it’s likely that the word borscht comes from the same root as the word for beet). And usually borscht is served cold. But it can be a vegetarian affair or a big meaty stew. The vegetarian version is usually served cold, while the beefy version is usually a hot winter dish. Here’s a fairly simple cold borscht with hot potatoes, a style I have made for thirty years (and first ate, at my grandmother’s table, before that). For a meaty borscht, see page 148.

Few things are more uplifting in the dead of winter than a bowl of this bright orange soup, which is equally good served cold in the summer. Don’t overcook the carrots or you’ll lose the beautiful color. This soup can be made ahead of time and refrigerated, then reheated if necessary.

In the States, cream soup usually conjures up images of thick, starchy soup with canned vegetables. But real cream soup, as made in France, is relatively thin, super-smooth, and fragrant with fresh vegetables and herbs. For convenience, you might prepare the vegetable puree ahead of time and refrigerate it; you can then finish the soup right before serving. Note that Vichyssoise, cold leek and potato soup, the variation that follows, is a direct descendant.

“Don’t make a big tsimmes out of it” was a favorite expression of my mother’s, as if making a tsimmes was a big deal and therefore making a big tsimmes—well, you get the idea. Making a tsimmes—a stew of fruits and vegetables, often on the sweet side, and sometimes grains—can be a big deal, especially if you begin with a piece of meat. But as a delicious midwinter stew of dried fruits and root vegetables, served as a side dish or even a main course, it’s hardly any work at all. To make one with meat, simply add these ingredients to the Cholent recipe on page 380. Many tsimmes recipes call for cooking the fruit until it falls apart, which is all too easy to do. In this one, which has less water than most, the fruit is cooked until perfectly tender but still intact. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: vary this as you like—not only is meat common, but so are turnips, beets, apples, barley, and the small egg noodles known as farfel. The key ingredients are the dried fruit, sweet potatoes, and carrots.

This combination of crusty potatoes and salty anchovies will either appeal to you enormously or make no sense. One of the best-known dishes in Sweden, it’s served at almost every holiday party—logically, if you ask me, because it’s great snack food. It makes a good side dish for a hearty roast as well.

Tempura is not the only batter-fried appetizer in the world; in fact, many cuisines have a similar dish, and some of these recipes follow. But tempura is very light, easy to make, and pretty much foolproof; chances are you’ll get it right even on your first try. Shrimp is the most common seafood, and probably the best, for use in tempura, but there’s no reason you couldn’t use other shellfish or even finfish. As for vegetables, it’s a matter of whatever is on hand. Harder vegetables, like winter squash and carrots, should be cut into thin slices so they become tender at about the same time they are browned. More tender vegetables—zucchini, eggplant, mushrooms, and the like—can be made larger or even, in the case of mushrooms or green beans, kept whole. Tempura, like most fried foods, must be served immediately. It will hold in a low oven for a few minutes, but as we all know it’s at its best the second it’s done. As long as you’re comfortable with your guests, serve each piece as you make it, in your kitchen. For frying, use a light, clean oil; grapeseed is probably best, but the more common (and cheaper) corn and safflower are good too. A frying or instant-read thermometer is a good idea, and temperatures of 330–350°F will work well for both vegetables and fish. If you don’t have a thermometer, put a drop of batter into the oil when you think it’s ready; it should neither sink to the bottom (too cold) nor immediately dance on the surface (too hot), but sink slightly beneath the surface and then rise to the top and skitter a bit.

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.

These sweet fritters are a cross between doughnuts and potato pancakes. That may sound strange, but, like doughnuts or churros, they make a great break fast or snack food. Buñuelos are most often made from a combination of three roots. One is yucca (also known as cassava and, confusingly enough, tapioca and manioc); it has a tough brown skin, bright white flesh, and a tough core that should be cut out before cooking. The second is malanga (also called taro), which resembles a hairy yam but has a lovely, creamy interior, sometimes streaked with purple. Finally, there’s boniato, also known as batata or Cuban sweet potato. It’s in the same family as sweet potatoes and yams (and either can be substituted here). The reddish skin encases white flesh, which is dry and has a subtle sweetness. All three of these can be found at major good supermarkets and Latin groceries, right next to one another.

One of the world’s great dumplings, the samosa has migrated to Southeast Asia and elsewhere. As with most dumplings, the filling is easily varied. And, as with most dumplings, you can use store-bought dumpling wrappers or the simple homemade ones on page 62. But the super rich wrappers here are really the best. Traditionally, you would deep-fry samosas, but more and more often they are baked. They’re terrific either way.

My favorite dumplings, these are creamy, savory, and salty and, when served with the cooked onion garnish and some sour cream, irresistible. Like the cheese filled version on page 60, they may be boiled and served with melted butter, but I think they’re best when fried in butter and served with sour cream. In addition to the variation, you can stuff these with cooked cabbage, cooked mushrooms, sauerkraut, or almost anything else you can think of.

A nice little appetizer from Galicia—northwestern Spain—great served warm or at room temperature. Your olive oil should be of the highest quality possible. For more about cooking octopus, see Grilled Octopus (page 49).