Pasta

The ideal here would be the pale, plump zucchini varieties you find in Middle Eastern markets. I visit one near London’s Edgware Road that even has them ready prepared, their seeds removed for stuffing, and packed into little plastic crates. If these torpedo-shaped squashes escape me, and they often do, then I use the ubiquitous type, halve them lengthwise and scatter the filling loosely over the top rather than making a clumsy attempt to stuff them. The classic zucchini stuffings of the Middle East vary from family to family but usually include cooked rice or ground lamb, or occasionally walnuts, pine nuts, or hazelnuts, stirred into softened onion and then lightly seasoned with allspice, tomato paste, and parsley. The effect is a moist filling of elegance and pleasing predictability. I sometimes want something more unusual. A stuffing that intrigues as much as it pleases.

Early February, icy-cold day. I find great spinach in the shops but little to go with it. I grab a bag of those factory-made vacuum-packed gnocchi that always make me feel as if I have just eaten a duvet. With cream, blue cheese, and spinach, they have a rib-sticking quality that would keep out arctic cold, let alone a bit of urban chill. Sometimes I just need food like this.

A huge pie, lighter and (slightly) less trouble than a lasagne, this is as satisfying as winter food gets. Even with top-notch chicken and heavy cream, it is hardly an expensive supper, and it feeds four generously (some of us went back for seconds).

Rice has for centuries been the obvious contender for stuffing a pepper—and indeed eggplant or a beefsteak tomato—flavored with caramelized onions, golden raisins, and musky raisins, and seasoned with capers, anchovies, cinnamon, or cumin. Small grains—cracked wheat, brown rice, the underused quinoa—are eminently suitable fillings, as is any type of small bean, lentil, or the plump, pearl-shaped couscous known as mograbiah. Vegetable stuffings can set the pepper alight. Piercing, cherrysized tomatoes, such as Sungold or Gardener’s Delight, or chunks of sweet steamed pumpkin offer more than just jewel colors to lift the spirits. They have a brightness of flavor very different from the humble, homely grains. They offer a change of step. A few hand-torn chunks of mozzarella and some olive oil will produce a seductive filling. Ground beef, the knee-jerk filling, somehow makes my heart sink. Mograbiah, sometimes known as pearl couscous, takes the idea on a bit, having the comforting, frugal qualities of rice but possessing an extraordinary texture, poised between pasta and couscous. Made of wheat and similar to Sardinian fregola, it is available at Middle Eastern markets.

I have eaten this for supper with a spot of harissa sauce stirred in (let down with a little water) but that is not really the idea. It is meant as an accompaniment to grilled lamb or fish, or perhaps some spicy meatballs. Instantly comforting, and as soothing as a pashmina.

Onions are used in most stuffings, both lightening the rice, couscous, or breadcrumbs and introducing sweetness. As they melt down, they keep the filling moist. Ask the butcher to prepare your shoulder of lamb for stuffing. When the bone is removed, it provides a neat pocket that will hold just the right amount.

Pasta sends me to sleep. Actually, it always has. It’s just that for years I failed to make the connection between my postprandial tiredness and what had been on my plate. I now take my dough of flour, eggs, and water in much smaller quantities, using it as the supporting actor rather than the lead. The result is a fresher, less heavy plate, yet somehow just as comforting. In many cases the pasta is padded out with vegetables: spinach, mushrooms, tomatoes, eggplants, peas, cavolo nero, or broccoli. Members of the broccoli family work rather well with pasta, the folds and hollows of the cooked dough neatly holding onto crumbs of green vegetable. In what follows, we get a lot of pleasure for very little work: a plateful of soothing carbs with a creamy, cheesy sauce and masses of lightly cooked green vegetables. In short, a cheap, quick weekday supper.

I tasted grilled mussels for the first time last summer and they were a revelation. Grilled mussels cook in their own brine and have a rich, undiluted flavor. This Mediterranean-style meal pairs them with fluffy couscous and a quick tomato sauce. This recipe also works beautifully with clams. You can cook the tomatoes a day ahead and warm them up just before serving.

This recipe pairs two foods you might find on a spring hike: morels and ramps, the latter being the wild leeks that grow from South Carolina to Canada. Both have the fresh earthiness of spring, tempered here by the richness of Grana Padano and mascarpone. Buying morels can get expensive, so if you can only afford a few, you can make up for it by adding another portobello or two. If you can’t find the pasta called orecchiette (literally, “little ears”), use small shells or another bite-size pasta.

What I love about this recipe is how well fresh Italian pasta works combined with these Asian flavors. It’s a true crossover dish, the pasta adding wonderful flavor and texture to the earthy and spicy notes in the sauce. Pork and eggplant is a natural combination that reminds me of Sichuan cuisine. Chinese eggplants, by the way, have a delicate skin, so when you peel them you can leave on some strips of skin for aesthetic purposes. This stir-fried dish is unwieldy to cook for four servings, so prepare it in two batches.

Sea urchin, or uni in Japanese, is a favorite delicacy back home, one that can be enjoyed raw or mixed as a dressing for seafood. I love the creamy, rich texture and sweet flavor of sea urchin combined with the lemony butter sauce of this gnocchi dish. You can prepare the gnocchi ahead of time, if you’d like. Just toss it with 1 tablespoon olive oil and refrigerate for up to 5 days or freeze for up to 1 month.

This is the iconic Japanese pasta dish, the dish that popularized the notion of combining Italian pasta with intrinsically Japanese ingredients, in this case, mentaiko, aromatic obha leaves, and crispy nori. This spaghetti is as popular at home as it is in “wafu pasta” restaurants, places specializing in Japanese-style pasta.

This dish first caught my eye early in my career when I worked as a line cook at Chicago’s legendary Ambria Restaurant. We served it as an appetizer, making everything from scratch, including the pasta—and it was one of our most popular dishes. This is a perfect dish for dinner parties. I promise it will impress your guests. Follow the fresh Egg Pasta recipe on page 109, making sure you include the optional squid ink.

This dish brings back memories of my childhood. I grew up only ten miles from the coast, and spent many Sunday mornings with my friends on the beach digging for clams, which we’d bring home to cook. I love the dense, chewy texture of razor clams, but if they’re not available, other clams work great with this recipe, too, including Manila, Asari, and littleneck.

Salmon roe, a sushi bar standard here in America, is a very popular ingredient in Japan. I love how these orange-colored pearls explode with a burst of flavor when you bite into them. They add a wonderful zing to this classic fettuccine recipe. Try this dish in the spring when broccoli is at its peak.

This is one of my favorite dishes for a dinner party or family get-together: it’s foolproof, makes a beautiful presentation, and everyone will love the layers and layers of flavor. I use cultivated mushrooms in this recipe, so you can cook it year-round. Orecchiette, which is sometimes referred to as “little ears pasta,” is a famous pasta of the Puglia region of southern Italy, and the ideal shape to hold the creamy sauce.

I still remember the first time I tasted this dish. I was sixteen years old and working my first cooking job to earn some pocket money at a restaurant in my hometown that served European food. Until then, I had almost no exposure to Western cooking (I hadn’t even tried pizza yet!). This dish was a bit of a culture shock for me, but I quickly became enchanted with Italian pasta. For the recipe, you can substitute ground veal or ground pork, if you like. Any leftover sauce can be frozen for up to a month.

To tell you the truth, I first created this dish by accident, when I added lamb instead of beef by mistake. But when I tasted it, I realized it was no mistake! Lamb might not be a traditional Japanese ingredient, but it’s delicious when mixed with these Asian flavors and vegetables. If you prefer beef, though, you can always use that instead. Follow the fresh Egg Pasta recipe on page 112, but leave out the optional squid ink.