No-Cook

Chef Daniel Rose (see page 68) served the following salad with brandade potato latkes (see page 308) at his Spring Restaurant during Hanukkah. The secret to this colorful winter salad is to keep the fennel very cold. This recipe, and all Daniel Rose’s recipes, may change according to the market and ses humeurs (the chef’s moods).

“I so miss Shabbat meals in France,” a young North African man from Marseille living in Washington told me when we were seated next to each other on a plane. “My mother never makes fewer than ten to fifteen salads.” One of these salads might be a combination of oranges and olives. It is very refreshing, and looks beautiful as one of many Moroccan salads. The black and orange colors remind me of black-eyed Susans. Prepared with argan oil, which comes from argan pits harvested from the argan tree, the salad is balanced with the oranges and grapefruit. These are all 2,000-year-old Moroccan flavors.

The first time I tasted a simple French lettuce salad of greens tossed in a mustardy vinaigrette, I marveled at how uncomplicated and delicious it was. Presented after the main course, as is traditional in Europe, the lettuce dish cleanses the palate. In France, with its varied climate and wonderful produce, salad greens are in season all year long and have been eaten forever, both cooked and raw. Serve as is, or with chopped fresh basil, cilantro, dill, tarragon, or chives sprinkled on top. Tiny slices of radish are a nice addition and, according to the Talmud, help digest lettuce.

I have always thought that the best part of fish soup is the rouille, a peppery, garlicky sauce that is slathered on toasted rounds of baguette and floated on the surface of the soup. I also like to stir some rouille into the broth. Similar to the Provençal aioli, a garlic-flavored mayonnaise, rouille is flavored with hot pepper and saffron, which give it its signature rust color. (Rouille literally means “rust” in French.) Today I have noticed that North African Jews often spice up their rouille even more, by adding a little harissa (see page 33) to it. Traditionally, a mortar and pestle are used to pound the garlic, pepper, and egg yolk, gradually incorporating the oil to make a mayonnaise. Today it is easy to put everything in a food processor and slowly add the oil, drop by drop. Leftover sauce is good on sandwiches or as a dip.

Sometimes in the ninth century, or perhaps earlier, Baltic fishermen figured out that curing herring in salt would preserve it. Caught and immediately salted to prevent spoilage, the fish was then brought back to French ports to be sold, often by Jewish purveyors who transported it up the Rhône. Salting fish was so important in the medieval period that salt-fish mongers, like fresh-fish mongers, had their own stores for salted, dried, and brined fish such as herring and cod. Because the fish had not in fact been cooked, rabbis considered salted fish to be kosher even if it had been salted by gentiles. For centuries Jews in northern France, who couldn’t eat pork, ate herring as their daily protein. It was prepared in a variety of ways, most often first soaked in milk to remove the excess saltiness, then dressed with vinegar and oil, and served with lots of sliced raw onion and hot boiled potatoes. Jews in France have put a French touch on their herring dishes, serving them as an appetizer rather than as a main course. They usually prepare the herring with either a horseradish sauce with apples, hard-boiled eggs, and beets, or a mustard-dill sauce with sugar, cream, and vinegar. To break the fast of Yom Kippur, Alsatian Jews use a sweet-and-sour cream sauce with their herring.

This haroset recipe originated in Toledo, Spain, before the Inquisition, and found its way to Tétouan, near Tangier, in northern Morocco, and then to Paris, where it is served today. Dates, the predominant fruit in most Moroccan haroset, are mixed with apples before being rolled into little balls. Sylviane Lévy (see page 65), whose mother gave her the recipe, says to roll them in cinnamon, then serve them in little paper cups. These balls look like chocolate truffles and taste like Passover petits fours!

A mixture of aromatic (and generally expensive) spices that according to the ancient Ayurvedic system of medicine are meant to heat the body. This is the only spice mixture that I ask you to make at home and keep in storage. Its aroma is unsurpassed if mixed and ground at home in small quantities. Also, it will not contain cheap “filler” spices, such as coriander seeds, as many commercial mixtures do. I do keep the store-bought mixture in my cupboard as well for use in certain dishes that require less perfume. My recipes will tell you which one to use.

At Le Monde Des Épices, I delight in seeing how simple olives can be turned into a colorful appetizer by melding different kinds and colors of cured olives and doctoring them up with garlic, preserved lemons, oregano, and basil, and serving them in a large, clear bowl. Although the majority of the olives in the shop are grown in Spain and North Africa, many, like the tiny Picholines from Provence, come from the south of France. When I first visited, the olives were simply cured and kept in barrels. Now the many different- flavored varieties are displayed in attractive bowls to tempt the customers. When doctoring up olives you buy, just make sure to include some red peppers, orange kumquats, or bright- green herbs. I love to serve a variety of sizes and kinds in a clear glass or earthenware bowl. Remember to have a tiny bowl nearby for the pits.

This sweet cream, which tastes a bit like crème fraîche, only with a more flowing, creamy texture, is a simple Gujarati dessert, so cooling during Gujarat’s hot summer days. In May and June, when mangoes are in season, thick mango puree is folded in. A teaspoon of saffron threads, roasted and soaked in milk, may be added at the same time as the sugar (see method on page 289) or dried fruit (golden raisins, soaked in boiling water for an hour and squeezed), nuts (chopped pistachios or almonds), fresh fruit (chopped mangoes, bananas, berries), and fruit purees.

Here is a condiment that I just cannot live without. You can add a dollop to curries or use it as you might any prepared mustard. It perks up hot dogs, my husband smears it on bacon and ham, it goes with roast beef, and it is a lovely, pungent addition to sandwiches. We always keep a jar in the refrigerator. Try smearing it on fresh pineapple slices to serve with a curry meal or a ham or pork roast (see next recipe), or use it to make Vegetable Pickle (see page 258).

Nose-tingling and refreshing, this Sri Lankan relish goes well with all curry meals. You could also serve it at Western meals with roast pork or pork chops.

Yogurt relishes are eaten with meals throughout India. They are nearly always savory, though in western states like Gujarat a little sugar is added as well as the salt to give a sweet-sour-salty flavor.

This is Sri Lanka’s everyday coconut sambol. Known as pol sambol, it would be called a chutney in India. It may be served with any meal.

A fresh chutney to serve with all Indian meals, it has a shelf life of 2–3 days if stored in the refrigerator. What is not used up may be easily frozen for another day.

This hot, savory chutney is from what used to be India’s northwest frontier but now is on Pakistan’s border with Afghanistan. There it is made with fresh red chilies, which have beautiful color and medium heat. They are not always easy to find, so I use a mixture of red bell peppers and cayenne pepper. They are always combined with nuts, generally almonds but sometimes walnuts. This chutney may be frozen. It is like gold in the bank. Serve it with kebabs, fritters, and with a general meal.

This simple sauce is perfect for spooning over fried fish, fried chicken, grilled meats, and any kind of kebab.

Indians love raw onion rings with their kebabs, just as Americans like a slice of onion with their hamburgers. Browned meat and raw onions—it is a marriage made in heaven. The Indian rings are different, though. They are made from smaller onions and are cut paper thin. To temper the sharpness, they are soaked in cold water and dried off thoroughly in a towel. The rings separate, leaving a mound of tangled rings.

There were many salad-like dishes made with seasonal fruit that my mother served with our lunches. If guavas were in season, they were pressed into service; it could also be star fruit, bananas, peaches, green mangoes, whatever was available in abundance. The seasonings in these salads did not vary much—salt, pepper, ground roasted cumin, Indian chili powders, made from red chilies and sometimes yellow chilies as well, sugar as needed, and lime juice. My mother made the salads herself, not in the kitchen but in the pantry and at the very last minute, just as we sat down to eat, so the fruit would not start “weeping” and get all watery. The seasoning amounts given in this recipe are approximate, since the taste of fruit can vary so much. Keep tasting as you go, adding more or less of the seasonings, as desired.

My North Indian family called this salaad, or salad, but similar salads with varying seasonings are known in some parts of India as cachumbar. These salads generally contain onions (our Indian red onions), cucumbers, and tomatoes but, according to the seasons, we in Delhi could find radishes or kohlrabi in them as well. In some parts of India, barely sprouted mung beans and peanuts could be added. This fresh salad was always at our table at every meal in some form, with the simplest of dressings added at the last minute. There was never any oil in this dressing. Instead, there was fresh lime juice, salt, pepper, chili powder, and ground roasted cumin seeds. We just put a generous dollop on our plates (or side plates) and ate it with everything.

Throughout southern India and Sri Lanka fine, homemade, steamed rice noodles are often served at mealtimes instead of rice and are known as idiappam (or string hoppers) in India and idiappa in Sri Lanka. Since making them is somewhat cumbersome, requiring a special mold and steaming equipment, I do the next best thing: I buy dried rice sticks from East Asian grocers and reconstitute them. These noodles could be served at breakfast with a little sugar and cardamom-flavored coconut milk and at major meals with curries—though in Sri Lanka I have had them with fish curries for breakfast to my great delight, and with fiery fish curries in Kerala for dinner.