Shrimp

Well known by their Cantonese name har gow, these delightful pinkish-white morsels are among the most popular offerings at dim sum houses. They go fast, and I’ve chased down my fair share of dim sum ladies to get a fresh order. When I started making my own and realized that they can be kept refrigerated and frozen, my fear of har gow scarcity diminished. These are difficult to prepare only if you aim to produce exemplary diminutive ones, which most dim sum places don’t. Start out with ones that are a little bigger and scale down as you gain dexterity. You can even make these dumplings as half-moons, and they’ll taste swell. Use the best shrimp possible, and immerse the canned bamboo shoots in boiling water to rid it of its tinny flavor before chopping. To make the pork fat easier to mince, blanch it in boiling water for 1 minute, or until firm. Obtain the fat from fatback (I go to a Latino butcher counter) or cut it off a pork chop. Fatty bacon works well, too.

Certain childhood treats stick with you, and for me these crisp turnovers are a tasty reminder of our life in Saigon. Sister Thien, our cook, and a family friend whom we called Uncle Thu, would make the dough and fill it with this delectable mixture of shrimp, pork, and jicama. Although they were hot right out of the oil, I could barely wait to dive in. My piggishness often led to a burned tongue. These are not easy to find abroad in expatriate Vietnamese enclaves, and I wasn’t able to rediscover the flavor and texture from my youth until I made them myself. For a baked version, substitute this filling for the one in the empanada recipe (page 111). Note that in the central region of Vietnam, bánh quai vac is the name of unrelated rice-or tapioca-based dumplings.

Many Asian cooks have incorporated Chinese spring rolls into their repertoires, but those of Filipino descent have embraced the rolls with the most zeal and flair. Derived from lūnpiá, a term from the Fujian (Hokkien) Chinese dialect, lumpia are one of the quintessential foods of the Philippines. In fact, I’ve seldom been to a Filipino celebration where there isn’t a platter of crisp lumpia, whether it be large ones like these or the diminutive finger-size lumpia Shanghai, which is obviously named after its Chinese parent. Banana-filled lumpia is a deliciously popular sweet snack called turon (page 194). Unfried lumpia sariwa are made by rolling up a lettuce leaf and filling of vegetables and meat in a spring roll skin. Fillings for fried lumpia vary from cook to cook, but they often have trademark Filipino touches, such as lots of fried garlic and onion. Simply seasoned, the meat (pork, chicken, or beef), shrimp, and vegetable mixture is precooked but not bound by cornstarch. Thinly sliced green beans are particularly pretty in the rolls and a touch of patis (fish sauce) adds another Filipino note. Vinegar is a favorite seasoning in the Philippines, so it’s apropos to dip the finished rolls in a tangy soy and garlic sauce. But if you’d like extra tropical flair, dunk the rolls in the Sweet and Sour Sauce on page 217 made with pineapple juice, ginger, and chile.

There are numerous fillings for fried spring rolls, and this one is my take on an old-fashioned Shanghai filling. The surf-and-turf combination of pork and shrimp is punctuated by earthy bamboo shoots and shiitake mushrooms. Whereas the Cantonese filling on page 79 is savory-sweet (and can be used here), this filling is more robust and offers wonderful depth, so much so that dunking them in a touch of vinegar is all you need to create a wonderful mouthful. Most spring roll fillings are cooked first because the frying is fast, and you want to ensure that the meat is cooked and that there’s a minimum of moisture, so the skins don’t soften up too much as they sit once out of the fryer. When preparing this and other similar fillings, cut the main ingredients so that they match in size and roll up well. I typically buy pork tenderloin steaks and freeze them for 10 to 15 minutes to make them easier to cut. Canned bamboo shoots work well so long as they first are boiled briefly to eliminate any tinny flavor. Spring rolls are great as a snack but also terrific for a light lunch along with a green salad.

Soup marks the beginning of many Asian meals, and a little bowl of delicate wontons floating in fragrant broth is a fine way to kick things off. The clean flavors prepare the palate for anything that may follow. Shrimp-laden dumplings star in this simple recipe, but you may want to adorn the finished soup with some blanched leafy greens, such as spinach, bok choy, or watercress, and perhaps even slices of roasted Cantonese Char Siu Pork (page 224). Instead of the shrimp filling, you can use a half batch of the pork and shrimp filling for the Fried Wontons on page 69.

I’ve met few people who dislike fried wontons. They are irresistible: they fry up to a wonderful light crispness, staying true to their Cantonese name, which literally means “swallowing clouds.” Wrapping the filling in a thin skin is the secret to generating such an ethereal quality. Most commercial wonton skins are, sadly, on the thick side and turn a bit chewy after frying. For better results, look for Hong Kong–style thin wonton skins at an Asian market or, better yet, make your own at home. Fried wontons are most often enjoyed dipped in sweet and sour sauce, but they can also be served in a bowl covered by hot broth; the skins turn chewy and contribute a delightful richness to the soup.

“If I can’t have sushi, I must have gyōza,” says my friend Makiko Tsuzuki, a self-described gyōza otaku (dumpling fanatic). The Japanese love pot stickers, ordering them at ramen noodle shops, patronizing gyōza restaurants, and visiting the Gyōza Stadium food theme park in Tokyo. They consider the dumplings essential to their cuisine, despite the fact that gyōza were popularized only after World War II, when Japanese soldiers returning from China brought back their taste and knack for making Chinese dumplings. Gyōza is the Japanese pronunciation of jiaozi. Like their Chinese parent, gyōza can be boiled, steamed, fried, or served in soup (see Variation). Pan frying is the most popular cooking method, which is why gyōza are commonly known as pot stickers. The filling strays from Chinese tradition by including a kick of garlic, a touch of sugar, a dose of black pepper, and a smidgen of sake. Sesame oil has a lesser role in the filling but a bigger role in pan frying the dumplings. Sesame oil has the same smoking point as butter and thus cooking with it is fine.Gyōza may be dipped in vinegary soy dipping sauce or biting hot mustard.

Loosely translated as “Devilish Shrimp,” this dish packs a good punch. My friend Rene’s mom cooked this for me several years ago. I soon became hooked and started re-creating my own version at home, incorporating Sriracha. The dried chiles don’t have a substitute perse, and should be sought out, as they contribute the unique smoky/fruity/spicy combo that makes this plate divine. They are available online or at any Latino market.

Traditional masala spices are dry-roasted, which releases the aroma. Masala also calls for pureeing the onions and tomatoes together in a blender with the yogurt mixture. Here I offer a simplified masala, designed to be quick and easy. Of course, you may always vary any recipe to suit your own preferences. You can purchase masala spice mix in a specialty food store, or you can make your own. Combine 1/4 teaspoon garam masala, 1/4 teaspoon curry powder, 1/4 teaspoon ground coriander, 1/8 teaspoon turmeric, and 1/8 teaspoon cayenne. Keep leftover mix tightly covered in a dark cabinet. Substituting soy yogurt or light coconut milk is fine. Coconut milk used to get a bad rap for being high in saturated fat, but now we know it has the good kind of saturated fat. Turmeric is an anti-inflammatory herb, thought to be good for diseases that cause internal swelling, such as multiple sclerosis, fibromyalgia, and arthritis.

The flavors here remind me of Jamaica, luring me in with the sweet citrus and then kicking it up with the chile peppers.

Puttanesca is a traditional pasta dish that supposedly had its origins in the food prostitutes cooked for themselves at the end of the night. The amount of spice called for here makes a medium-spicy dish. Adjust it according to your own taste. Although anchovy paste (or minced anchovies) is called for, don’t worry if you don’t have any or just want to leave it out. A tip: Do not lift the lid “just to check” before this meal is done or it will take longer to cook and your pasta may not come out perfectly al dente. This recipe works equally well with fresh or frozen shrimp. Instead of broccoli and artichoke hearts, try this with spinach or green beans. Consider red bell peppers, zucchini, yellow squash, or eggplant as well.

Quinoa (pronounced KEEN-wah) was an ancient staple grain of the Incas. It’s a complete protein with all essential amino acids and more calcium than milk, along with iron, phosphorus, and vitamins B and E. Use it as a grain and substitute freely for rice or pasta. Just be sure to maintain the proper ratio of dry grain to liquid (for quinoa use 3/4 cup quinoa to 1 cup liquid). I buy quinoa from the bulk food bins at the health food store, although you can find it at many supermarkets alongside the grains. Raw seafood is always preferable when making a Glorious One-Pot Meal, and frozen shellfish is less likely to overcook in this method. I keep a bag of uncooked shrimp in my freezer for just such a reason.

Adapted from a recipe out of Guam, the bananas give this meal a tropical flavor that my mother and mother-in-law both love. Be sure to cut any brown spots off the bananas before slicing. Sweet potatoes and yams range tremendously in size. You may be able to use all of a medium sweet potato in a single meal. However, if it is ten inches or longer, use only part of it. To make this dish even spicier, add a diced fresh jalapeño or serrano pepper to the onion layer at the bottom.

In this recipe I deviate from the usual formula where the spinach would be the last ingredient added. I do this because sometimes spinach that touches the lid becomes browned, and although this doesn’t bother me, some may find it unappetizing. This method leaves the spinach greener. I get the best results when using frozen raw shrimp, though thawed raw shrimp will work well, too.

Cioppino, or fisherman’s stew, had its origins in San Francisco by way of Italy, but all Mediterranean countries have similar fish stews. Make this version your own with your favorite treats from the sea. Traditionally, this dish is not very soupy; for more broth, do not drain the can of tomatoes. I prefer to avoid precooked seafood for Glorious One-Pot Meals. If your frozen shrimp is pink, it’s precooked. While using precooked seafood certainly won’t ruin your meal (it’s difficult to fail with a Glorious One-Pot Meal!), raw seafood results in a stronger flavor and will be more tender after cooking.

A lemony butter sauce infuses these shrimp with a flavor that is perky and decadent all at once. You’ll be tempted to serve it over all your seafood dishes. But look out! You may find yourself talking in a Georgia drawl by the end of the meal. Serve this dish with white rice or Easy Almond Rice Pilaf (page 47) for a no-fuss fancy meal.

This is another quick-and-easy way to prepare shrimp that are smooth and buttery, with just the right amount of peppery fire to keep your family on its toes. We usually serve these with baked potatoes and a little bit of green salad on the side. Just pop the shrimp in the oven when the spuds are almost done and bring it all out to the table piping hot.

Mama likes to serve peppered shrimp in their jackets, and we’ve been improvising on her recipe for years. But for simple weeknight meals, we like to buy shelled shrimp. They’re easier to eat that way, and faster to cook. Here, we sauté them with mushrooms, which Bobby is fond of, and bacon (you can guess who thought of adding that!).

We’re always looking for new ways to cook shrimp. Here, the lip-smacking shrimp and veggies cook on skewers at the same time, making the meal fast and easy enough for a weeknight meal, even if shrimp seem like Saturday-night kind of food. Kids can even help out with threading the food onto the skewers. Serve this spicy recipe over Coconut-Orange Cashew Rice (page 66) and you’ve got a complete and extra special meal.

When I host cooking school weekends at my place, I often do a Lowcountry Boil on Friday nights for my usual “meet and greet” session, where the folks attending can get to know one another—and me—a little bit. This is a specialty of the Lowcountry areas like Charleston and Savannah, where the people live near the water and have access to plenty of fresh shrimp. But of course you don’t need to live near the water to enjoy it. The traditional way to serve this is to basically dump it—spread it, if you will—across a large picnic table that has been covered with newspaper. You may want to fancy up the serving situation, but it’s fine to keep it casual, too. You can just tell your guests that’s how they do it down South.