Side

When they’re hot from the pan, it’s hard not to fill up on paratha alone, though they’re usually served in the context of a larger Indian meal. I learned this spicy, delicious lamb filling from Suvir Saran, an Indian chef and friend who lives and works in New York and whose book, written with Stephanie Lyness—Indian Home Cooking: A Fresh Introduction to Indian Food—is one of the best on the topic written for the American audience.

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.

These simple, flaky breads are easy to make, but there is one caveat: you must not treat them (or any Indian bread) as you would European breads, which is to say that although the dough can be prepared in advance (indeed, it’s better if it rests for a while), the breads themselves must be cooked at the last minute before serving. Serve with any dal (page 433) and a dish like Tandoori Chicken (page 291).

This is a simple preparation that can serve as a side dish or main course (add some cooked sausage if you like) and can be made with any dark green, from spinach to collards to turnip or mustard greens. It needs no cheese.

Cabbage, when it begins to break down, becomes quite creamy, and that’s what makes this dish somewhat unusual. This will be stronger tasting if you use plenty of black and red pepper, olive oil, and pecorino or quite mild if you start with butter, reducing the black pepper, eliminating the red, and finishing with pecorino. You can also make it far more substantial; see the variation.

The sweet, familiar combination of pine nuts and currants offsets the mild anise bitterness of fresh fennel here. Omit the pasta from this Sicilian sauce and you’ll have a good vegetable dish. If you can find the herb fennel (those living in southern California can find it wild, and many gardeners use it as an ornamental), use a few of the feathery parts of its stalks in place of the tops of the bulb. If you cannot, add the fennel seeds for stronger flavor.

There is something about the sprightliness, the lightly assaultive, somehow-sweet nature of mint that is unlike any other herb. Here, softened by butter and cheese, to which it in turn lends spark, it converts a simple and basic but undeniably heavy combination into an easy but complex pasta dish that can best be described as refreshing.

A Ligurian specialty, usually made with “stamped” pasta—pasta that is rolled out and then cut with dies in special designs. You can use any cut pasta for this, though perhaps it’s best with fresh pasta like malfatti (page 542). If you have Tapenade (page 604), simply stir it into any tomato sauce to get the same effect.

These are hand-rolled spaghetti from Tuscany; they’re thick, like bucatini, but have no holes. They must be boiled right away, or they will stick together. I think this is a fine project for a rainy afternoon with a ten- or twelve-year-old who likes to cook. If you’re not in the mood, simply make spaghetti and follow the directions for this wonderful and simple sauce. This—as you’ll quickly gather—is poor people’s food, a rather meager dish. This does not prevent it from being delicious, which it is, but you might want to follow it with a meat or fish course and vegetables.

Spaetzle is harder to spell than make. In fact, it’s one of the easiest and most impressive side dishes there is, a noodle whose dough is about as complicated as pancake batter and that can be crisped up in a pan to create a delicious accompaniment for almost any poultry or pork dish, especially braised ones. Once you get the technique down, you’ve got plenty of latitude with how you flavor these fresh little dumplings. The recipe here is for plain spaetzle, though adding two or three tablespoons of an assortment of flavorings in the first step will infuse them with taste without changing the method at all. Try pureed chives, roasted and minced garlic, chopped shallots, and so on.

A prime example of the simplicity with which you can successfully treat fresh Chinese egg noodles, which are available at many supermarkets.

Cold noodles, almost in salad form, with vegetables, spice, and meat. Perfectly fine with regular pasta, it is prettier and better with the fresh egg noodles now sold at many supermarkets and every Chinese market.

A perfect start to a Chinese meal, this can be prepared almost entirely in advance, varied in a number of ways, and even served as a main course if you like. Though it can be made with peanut butter (the natural kind, please, with no added sugar or fat), it’s easy enough to buy sesame paste (tahini) at health food stores, stores specializing in Middle Eastern or Asian ingredients, and even supermarkets. Sesame oil, which contributes mightily to the flavor of the finished dish, is a staple sold at Asian food stores (and, increasingly, supermarkets) and belongs in every refrigerator. Chinese egg noodles are sold fresh at almost every Chinese market, most Asian supermarkets, and even many ordinary supermarkets. Regular dried pasta makes a good substitute here.

Given all the fuss that has been made about the difficulty of producing the real thing, I wouldn’t blame you if you bought “instant” polenta. But polenta—and its identical Romanian cousin, mamaliga—is basically cornmeal mush, ethereal when made correctly and hardly neurosurgery. First off, forget about stirring clockwise for 40 minutes with a long-handled wooden spoon or any of the other myths you’ve heard about how it has to be made. If you want great creamy polenta, cook the cornmeal very slowly and add as much butter as you can in good conscience. Second, this is a case where Parmigiano-Reggiano, the real Parmesan, will shine. Finally, note that the amount of water you use is variable: use 5 cups if you want to make very firm polenta that you can later grill or sauté; use more water if you want smooth, soft polenta, into which you will stir cheese and serve as a simple side dish or perhaps with a little tomato sauce. The following recipe is based on one food writer Mitchell Davis learned from the chef at Cibreo in Florence, Italy. You could, of course, omit one or all of the herbs if you didn’t have them on hand. With herbs or without, this polenta is great with any Italian roast or braised dish or with simply grilled Italian sausage.

A somewhat more elaborate procedure than the preceding recipe, to be sure, but super in flavor. See the excellent variation as well. This is practically a main course, good with a vegetable dish and a salad.

This can work as a main course, though it is better, perhaps, as a side dish with poultry or as a filling for Pierogi (page 59). Given real-world options, fresh ricotta might be your best bet for cheese. If all you can find are packaged cheeses, small curd, full-fat cottage cheese is probably the best choice.

Here is kasha, simply prepared with butter. It’s good with olive oil, too, but best with rendered chicken fat.

Farro is a wheatlike grain grown in central Italy (known as spelt here). Barley makes a good substitute; cook it the same way. Here it is combined with a simple pesto; it’s a lovely picnic or summer party side dish, with almost anything.

Couscous, not actually a grain but a form of pasta, cooks quickly. Ideally, it is steamed over a spicy stew, from Stifado (page 336) to Chicken and Lentil Tagine (page 284), and certainly you can do that. But you will probably prepare it more frequently if you treat it somewhat like rice, as I do here. The couscous benefits from a short preliminary toasting, which brings out more flavor (otherwise, what you have is plain pasta); alternatively, turn it in butter as I do in the variation.

Plain barley, cooked any way you would rice, is fine stuff (make sure you buy pearl barley; the wholegrain variety takes forever to cook). But barley with some butter and dried mushrooms is just a fantastic midwinter side dish. Porcini mushrooms are best bought in large quantities; a pound might cost $40 or $50 but will last for years, whereas 1/2 ounce might cost $4 ($128 per pound) and last you a day.