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This well-known Philippine starter combines attributes of many of the wrapped foods of other countries. It’s filled like an egg roll, has an egg wrapper like a crêpe, and is served warm but not fried. All the components, which can be varied according to what you have in your kitchen, are cooked before assembly.

These are very similar to crêpes—the staple of Brittany (page 86)—but thinner and more delicate (and the filling, which follows, is like nothing you’ll find in the French tradition). Though they’re often called “Philippine Egg Rolls,” lumpia—again, like most crêpes—require no cooking once they’re filled.

This finger food is popular in the south of China, Southeast Asia, and, of course, many American Chinese restaurants. It’s perfect for parties and super easy to make, especially with store-bought egg roll wrappers. They can be filled an hour or two ahead of time and fried immediately before serving or—though it isn’t ideal—fried an hour or two ahead of time and crisped in a warm oven later.

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.

Like Wor Teep, Chinese pot stickers, these meat-filled dumplings are filling and delicious (with store bought dumpling wrappers, they’re also quite easy). But the serving style is completely different: these are usually cooked and served in broth, with yogurt. Alternatively, you can boil them in water and serve them with yogurt or melted butter.

These are the pot stickers popular in Shanghai and many other southern Chinese cities. Panfried until crisp on the bottom and then cooked through by steaming, they have a delicious combination of crunch and chew in the dough and a springy, flavorful center. They are best served hot out of the pan (but beware of their tongue-burning juices!). Gyoza is the Japanese version of this type of dumpling and mandoo the Korean version. They may be filled with pork or have a vegetarian stuffing; usually, their skin is somewhat thinner. You can buy gyoza or mandoo skins at the market or just roll the Chinese skins a little thinner yourself. Dumplings may be filled and dusted with flour and refrigerated, covered, for a couple of hours or frozen for a few days. But they’re really best when cooked right after being filled. Leeks are usually full of sand. The easiest way to clean them in this recipe is to chop them, rinse in a strainer, and shake dry.

An all-purpose wrapper, useful for many of the recipes on the following pages: dumplings, pot stickers, wontons, and so on. Of course you can buy these, ready made, at any supermarket, but they are fun and pretty easy to make—a good afternoon project and one kids will like. Note that the wrappers are made in stages, with a resting period in between; this period can be extended up to a day if you wrap the dough ball in plastic and refrigerate—just be sure to let it come to room temperature once again before proceeding.

In Sweden these little fish “sandwiches” are made with Baltic herring, but you can make them with any small fish from which you can remove the backbone, such as smelts, anchovies, and sardines (the names of all of these fish are confused anyway—many true herring and anchovies are called sardines and vice versa). To bone these fish, grasp the head and pull straight down; most of the innards will come out along with it; use your thumb to open the fish up from the front, then grasp the backbone and remove. You’ll be left with two tiny fillets joined by the skin. Plan to make eight of these—four sandwiches—for each serving if you make them as a main course.

Most cultures enjoy mushrooms, but none treats them more regally than the French. This prime example is best made with lots of butter (not bad with the smaller amount, either, of course) and wild mushrooms. But if you have access only to cultivated mushrooms, combine a couple of varieties—button with shiitake and portobello, for example, and, if possible, a small handful of dried porcini, reconstituted as on page 112. This can also be served as a side dish, especially with poultry.

Chawan-mushi is an egg custard flavored with stock and soy and laced with a number of tasty tidbits. In Tokyo, I had a bowl that contained tiny amounts of myoga (a potent member of the ginger family), shrimp, chicken, ginkgo nut, and yuzu, an Asian citrus fruit. None of these is essential, and you can substitute for any or all of them, as I do here. The fillings, called gu, are supposed to be whatever you have on hand. If you have covered ramekins, they are ideal for this preparation. But covering the pot works just as well.

Like the nut and bean preparations on pages 27–28, these savory crisp snacks from Southeast Asia (closely related to the similar recipe from Korea that follows) can be eaten out of hand. Also like them, they’re great with beer. Though unfamiliar to some people, they’re instantly liked by most. (You can buy dried baby anchovies—described on page 25—at most Asian, and some Latin, markets.) In Thailand, they’re sometimes tossed with Fried Peanuts (page 27), a lovely little combo.

Serve these spicy little pancakes as an appetizer—they’d even work at a cocktail party—or as part of a meal. They’re not especially delicate (in fact they’re pretty filling), and they’re frequently served at room temperature, so feel free to make them in advance.

Falafel is the best known of bean fritters, and—because it’s usually made from chickpeas and/or fava beans—the best tasting. Canned chickpeas are too soft for falafel, but the recipe is pretty easy anyway; the dried beans are soaked, not cooked, and the frying is straightforward. The addition of an egg prevents the batter from falling apart, which is a common problem. It may not be strictly traditional, but it works. The little fritters are best in a huge pita, with a pile of raw vegetables, but they’re also nice served as a starter, with some greens and a little Tahini Sauce.

Farinata, which is nearly identical to the socca of Provence, is a cross between firm polenta and a primitive pizza. To me it’s the perfect no-work Mediterranean appetizer, a great thing to have in your repertoire if you want to make sure there’s something warm for guests to eat when they arrive—or if you just want to round out a pasta dinner for the family on a weeknight. Keep the pepper mill nearby when you serve the farinata; it’s best with an almost perverse amount of freshly ground black pepper. You can buy chickpea flour at health food stores, Italian markets, Middle Eastern stores, and specialty food shops.

The hardest part of this dish, these days, is finding fresh herring—which is astonishing, because a large percentage of the world’s supply is caught off our shores and shipped elsewhere. In the countries bordering the North Sea, however, it is celebrated, and if you can find it here—it’s in fish markets from time to time—this is a great treatment, an essential part of any smorgasbord, but also wonderful served with sour cream (“creamed herring”) and boiled potatoes. If the herring is whole, ask your fishmonger to fillet it for you.

Traditionally made with freshwater fish—carp, whitefish, and pike—this is just as good with fish from the sea. You can even mix in some darker fish, like bluefish and salmon, although it is not traditional. Equally untraditional is the food processor, which makes this formerly formidable job a snap. Good, strong horseradish is the essential accompaniment. Make this a day before you want to serve it.

Unlike common deviled eggs, these, usually served as a tapa, have both texture and more flavor. The shrimp and olives bring a nice saltiness to the dish, which is ideal for a picnic.

Compare this recipe, which is usually served cold as a panchan (small appetizer or side dish), with the Japanese version on page 184, and you’ll have a vision of the difference between Japanese and Korean cooking, which are closely linked and starkly different at the same time.

This brilliantly colored starter is an unusual and extremely elegant way of using beets. Serve it with chips, bread, or toast or as an accompaniment to any roast poultry dish. Make this ahead of time if you can; it’s best after marinating overnight.

Its flavor bears no resemblance to real caviar, its ingredients (except for the salt) have nothing to do with caviar, but its texture—supposedly—is akin to that of caviar. If there are enough seeds in your eggplant—not necessarily a good thing—I suppose you could argue that its graininess is like that of caviar. In any case, it’s a wonderful spread for Crostini (page 41), as a dip for fresh vegetables, or as a stuffing for roasted peppers or tomatoes (pages 492).