Side

I have been making this winter fruit salad from the time I first started looking at cookbooks and well remember the original Claudia Roden recipe (in her wonderful classic A Book of Middle Eastern Food). My version, honed by experience and travel, is a little different. If you use water, you will probably need to add a bit of sugar; start with 1/2 cup and see how that tastes. This recipe produces a lovely syrup of its own, but you can serve it with yogurt or fresh or sour cream if you like. If you’re in a hurry, you may cook the mixture, gently, until the fruit softens. The texture will be mushier, the fruits less distinctive, but the taste will still be great.

How quick-cooking rice came into existence I’ll never know, given how easy this is. Basically, you can cook long-grain rice any way you want to, as long as you use sufficient water and stop the cooking (draining excess water if necessary) before it becomes mush. This is the most straightforward method.

“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 is similar to Grilled Satay, which follows, only in that it is meat on a stick. But this deep-fried version is crunchier, and the skewer itself is best when made from lemongrass or sugarcane, either of which imparts a subtle aroma to the meat (and gives you something to gnaw on, if your tastes go in that direction). Since the meat is pressed around the skewer like a meatball—the result is kind of a meat lollipop—it needs to be finely minced to hold together well; a food processor does the job perfectly.

These are not “grilled” at all but cooked on a plancha, a hot flat-top griddle similar to those used by short order chefs. But you can grill them, too. Both ways work fine, but in either case the heat should be very intense and the cooking time very short. The squid should be the smallest you can find, preferably about the size of an average adult’s thumb.

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.

If you’re accustomed to sweet corn fritters—even served with maple syrup—these are going to come as either a joyous revelation or a rude awakening. They’re just as crunchy, but spicy and mildly hot.

You can make eggplant into fritters, seasoned with almost anything you like, but my taste here runs to Parmesan; the combination is magical. Fritters are usually deep-fried, but it isn’t necessary in this case. Here they are made into flat, pancake like forms and cooked in far less oil. Like most fried foods, these are best hot; but, as with most fritters, they’re acceptable up to a half hour after they’ve been made (and, though I wouldn’t serve them to company this way, they’re pretty good cold).

These fritters, which you’ll also find in Texas and Florida, have their origins in the Caribbean—and, if you want to trace them further back, India; see the variation.

Another good pancake starter or side dish. At their best hot, but still good warm. You can use frozen spinach for this if that’s all you have.

Okonomiyaki, a savory pancake, is a Japanese bar snack, something that you eat (or make) while you’re drinking. There are restaurants in Japan that make nothing but okonomiyaki, where you sit at a bar or table with a griddle set into it and pick what you want in your “pancake.” Everything is fair game, from sliced roasted pork to enoki mushrooms—even to the loose bits of fried batter that are a by-product of tempura called tenkasu. This batter, which includes shredded cabbage, is made in the style linked with Osaka; in Hiroshima, the other part of Japan where the pancake is popular, they add soba noodles to the batter. Obviously it’s a very flexible recipe. Here I use bean sprouts and peas, but vary it as you like. For example, omit the sprouts and peas and use 1/2 cup sliced squid and 1/2 cup asparagus tips; in the summer, substitute 1 cup fresh corn kernels scraped off the cob. You might look for Japanese Kewpie brand mayonnaise to finish the okonomiyaki; the container makes it easy to do the very 1980s squeeze bottle garnish of mayo and okonomiyaki sauce (which is like ketchup and also comes in a squeeze bottle, available at Japanese markets) that is part of the dish’s charm. Personally, what I like is the eerie way the bonito shimmy when they’re scattered across the pancake.

In Korea, this popular starter and snack is served at home, in restaurants, and on street corners. (It’s also one of the most popular dishes in Korean restaurants in the States.) At its most basic, it’s a large egg batter scallion pancake, but other vegetables, meat, and seafood are often added to make it a fancier and more substantial dish. Glutinous rice flour creates a wonderfully chewy texture, but if you can’t find it, all-purpose flour is perfectly fine. Serve these immediately after making them.

This tough, chewy little pancake is a staple in China. Though the dough requires at least an hour of resting time, it’s easy to make. Cut it into small pieces and serve as finger food for a crowd or into larger wedges and serve at the table, as part of a general Chinese feast. Lard is the traditional (and best) fat for cooking these; substitute oil if you prefer.

Every culture that grows peppers grills them, and the people who eat them always swear “they’re not that hot.” Well, in Japan, not only are they not that hot, they are often sautéed; and only in Japan are they sauced with miso. Use mild long green chiles like Anaheims or—if you can find them—mild long red chiles, and you’ll come pretty close to duplicating the original.

This “caviar,” most commonly spread on toast, is little more than sautéed mushrooms, but with an unusual texture and a decidedly Russian character. Do not mince the mushrooms too finely or they will become pasty.

I had the best Japanese-style chicken wings at the Gonpachi Restaurant in Tokyo. They arrived at the table crackling on a little hibachi grill. Salty, sweet, and aromatic, they were great with chilled sake. To me, this is perfect contemporary Japanese cooking.

I am such a soy sauce fanatic I essentially “invented” this dish before ever having been served it; imagine my surprise to find it is legitimate, basically an egg over easy with an instantly made soy-based sauce. The Chinese name for this popular late-night snack describes the runny center encased by the crisp-fried edges.

Best made with the hearts of fresh artichokes, but that is an expensive, time-consuming, and labor-intensive route. I won’t say frozen artichoke hearts are just as good, but they are worth using, and that’s what most people do—increasingly, even in Italy. The tenderness and subtle flavor of the vegetable still comes through. I like to fry these in olive oil, but it’s not essential.

A classic tapa that’s challenging only to the extent that it’s hard to find good chorizo; it should not be too well dried but rather fresh and soft. Plenty is being made in the States now, especially in Florida, California, and New York—the major centers of Latin cuisine. Since chorizo is so intensely flavored already, it takes few ingredients to make this dish, but it’s still pretty powerful. In northwestern Spain they make this with the local sidra Asturiana, or hard cider; to try it that way, omit the garlic and parsley and substitute hard cider (English, French, or American hard cider is fine) for the red wine.