Side

An unusually versatile preparation, good as an appetizer, a side dish, or a salad, and as appropriate over lettuce as it is solo. Can be made days and days in advance.

This creamy dressing, popular throughout central and eastern Europe, is a deliciously indulgent protein shake with its eggs and sour cream. You can use any firm greens here, but stay away from tender greens, like Boston lettuce and delicate mesclun mixes; they will not stand up well to the dressing.

Raita is salad, relish, dip, and side dish in one. Yogurt-based, it usually includes something sharp to balance the sour blandness: onion, spices, mustard, even chiles. (It’s most closely associated with India, but similar mixtures are made in the Middle East.) The recipe here is the basic foundation of many raitas and is usually not eaten as is but added to according to preference. There are infinite variations, of which the ones that follow are among the most popular. All balance spicy curries well but are also good eaten on their own or as a dip for flatbreads, like those on pages 559–565.

This fiery, strong northern Thai specialty (if it’s made correctly, you will really reek after eating it, but it’s worth it) has become one of the most popular dishes in Thailand and at Thai restaurants in the States. When I was in Bangkok, I could not walk down the streets or through the markets without at least a dozen offers of Som Tum from the vendors, and it was hard not to stop for a little dish with some grilled meat and sticky rice. You can usually find green, or unripe, papayas and yard-long beans (and the Thai fish sauce called nam pla) at Asian or Latin groceries, but you can also substitute Granny Smith apples for the papaya and Napa cabbage for the beans.

Morocco’s oranges are renowned for their distinctive sweetness, but they’re not common here. Use good California or Florida navels or clementines (you’ll need six or eight) instead. Removing the thin membranes from the individual segments is an optional refinement.

A superrefreshing salad, great on hot summer days. If you have a mandoline, use it here, since the fennel is best when cut into thin slices. This salad can be made more substantial with cooked scallops, shrimp, or crabmeat and is also delicious with grapefruit. Peel the fruit over a bowl to catch the juices, then cut the segments between the membranes.

An unusual tomato salad, exceptionally fresh tasting it contains no oil—and terrific with any grilled food. You certainly don’t need to be making an Indian meal to serve it.

The first time I ate this great summer salad, I could not figure out how the raw garlic flavor could be strong without being overpowering, but the reason is simple: the garlic is mixed with the dressing, then strained out. Peeling the tomatoes is far from necessary, but it’s a nice refinement. More important is to use delicious ripe tomatoes.

The peppery bite of radishes is the featured player in this crunchy salad, which is served all over the Arab world in one form or another. Salting the radishes first improves both flavor and texture, but if you’re pressed for time, just salt the salad as you normally would.

This North African salad will give you a wonderful new perspective on leeks. Uncooked, they are deliciously refreshing, especially when paired with tomatoes and cucumbers.

Not unlike the better-known Middle Eastern and Indian combinations of yogurt and cucumbers, this Polish version is more tart than its Eastern cousins, making it especially refreshing as a part of a meal with heavy dishes.

This is best when you have freshly made sauerkraut—especially a whole head, which you can sometimes find at Eastern European specialty markets. There will, of course, be times when that’s impossible, and then you must turn to packaged sauerkraut. This is not a problem as long as you steer clear of the canned stuff and look for that packed in plastic bags, containing nothing but cabbage and salt. Serve this strong, tart salad with a hearty meat dish, like “Deviled” Pork Chops (page 362), Baeckoffe of Pork and Lamb (page 399), or Carbonnade (page 385).

Beet salads in general are wonderful, but this one is a refreshing change. For one thing, the beets are raw. For another, their sweetness is offset by the sharp taste of raw cabbage; it’s a fine if odd marriage. Think of it as Swedish coleslaw (like coleslaw, it can be made a few hours in advance). Whenever you peel beets—and especially when you’re grating them—be sure to wear an apron or clothing you don’t care about.

This is why people want to move to Italy: you can buy raw fresh artichoke hearts already trimmed (occasionally you can find these in this country’s best markets too, especially in California), and layer them with the best Parmesan and olive oil. The cheese and artichoke have some kind of symbiotic magic going on, making the whole far greater than the sum of its parts. Fantastic.

One of the most delicious salads, offered at many Paris bistros and throughout the countryside. Good with a ripe pear on the side or cut into cubes and added to the mix.

Simple, basic, and essential. You can always make a true Vinaigrette (page 600), but as is, this is the simplest green salad, as good for entertaining as it is for weeknights. Almost any greens are good with this dressing, from romaine, Boston, or iceberg lettuce to frisée or radicchio, but a mixture is best. The prepacked mesclun mixtures now sold in almost all supermarkets make it even easier.

You don’t see much cilantro in Europe, but you find it in the southeastern part of the continent, where several cultures mingle. Regardless of this sauce’s origin (it is closely related to Tarator or Skordalia; recipe follows), it is fabulous with grilled meats, especially lamb. Walnut oil is not essential here, but it really does make a difference.

Thin and crisp, the distinctively large and cylindrical dosa are the famous crispbreads of southern India. Made from a base of ground lentils and rice, they’re delicious and, paired with a simple raita or chutney, the basis of a meal for many people. I ate dosa with amazement throughout India, but I learned how to make them here, with help from Monica Bhide and Suvir Saran, both friends who have written wonderful books about Indian cooking. Note that the difficult part of the dosa-making process—soaking and pureeing—can easily be bypassed if you have an industrial milling machine that can pulverize the lentils and rice into flour straightaway. And a couple of companies do just that, adding salt and fenugreek for flavor, add baking soda to give them a little puff, and sell the resulting mix throughout India and in the States. This mix makes dosa a convenience food you can fry up at the drop of a hat. I think it’s still worthwhile to give this recipe a try, but if the soaking and pureeing are going to keep you from trying dosa, by all means use the mix. Soak the lentil and rice flour in water as directed on the back of the package, and when the batter’s ready, start with step 4. (You can use the mix for the uttapam on the next page as well.)

Kulcha are like doughier, softer paratha and are absolutely delicious. Combined with basmati rice, dal (page 433), and an Indian vegetable dish, like the cauliflower on page 451 or the eggplant on page 457, kulcha are a perfect centerpiece for a vegetarian meal. Chaat masala is a deliciously sour-tasting spice mix you can buy at Indian markets (it’s possible to make it yourself, but almost no one does).

Although there’s something lost in translation between the scorching heat of a tandoor—the clay oven of northern India—and the relatively tame 500°F of a home oven, you can indeed make creditable, even delicious naan at home. With their slightly sour flavor and ultrasoft texture, they’re the perfect accompaniment to dal (page 433) or any Indian meat dish.