Vegetable

A wonderful brunch dish, often served for breakfast in Mexico as a way to use up the previous day’s leftovers. But the combination of crunchy tortillas, spicy tomato sauce, and melted cheese is so irresistible you’ll want to make it just for its own sake. If you do not want to fry the tortillas, you can either bake them until quite crisp—this will take 15 minutes or so—or simply substitute unsalted (or lightly salted) corn tortilla chips.

No one does grilled chicken better than in Southeast Asia, where it seems to come straight from heaven. The key ingredients were all exotic and hard to find here just ten years ago, but now you can make this routinely. Once you try it, you probably will. This is wonderful teamed with Sticky Rice (page 508) and Green Papaya Salad (page 174). But it’s fine with any rice dish and vegetable, too, because it is really a star.

From Southeast Asia via New York, a recipe based on one developed by my sometime coauthor and longtime Asian hand, Jean-Georges Vongerichten. Included here not because it is “authentic” in the true sense but because the flavor is truly Thai and it’s among the best Thai-inspired chicken recipes I know. Serve it with Sticky Rice (page 508). For information on Asian fish sauces like nam pla, see page 500.

I was in a restaurant in Martinique where this sauce—which translates as “dog sauce,” for reasons I don’t want to know—was served on everything, from kidneys to chicken to vegetables. I liked it best on steak. As with so many Caribbean dishes, this would be served with Coconut Rice and Beans (page 516). Other cuts of meat you can use here: almost anything, from liver to bone-in dark-meat chicken, to pork chops or ribs.

This tagine is similar to the preceding Chicken and Lentil Tagine but, with the addition of dates and vanilla, far more exotic. My version of this tagine may not compare with those that begin with toasting and grinding spices and peeling grapes, but it’s easily executed (especially since the chicken is not browned first, which spares the cook a fair amount of time and energy) and, I think, quite divine. Some things to look out for: First, work with dark meat chicken only. In Morocco, the breast might be propped up out of the way so it almost steams and remains moist, but this is impractical without a special pot (also called a tagine). Be aware that tagines are on the dry side, so don’t add liquid to the sauce unless it’s threatening to burn. Home-cooked chickpeas and fresh tomatoes are, of course, preferable to the canned varieties, but in this dish the differences are not marked. Do, however, use a vanilla bean. If all you have is vanilla extract, omit the vanilla entirely.

A tagine is the name of both a stew and the pot it’s served in. A North African specialty, it differs from other stews primarily in its sweet spicing. This one, featuring chicken, is bright yellow and alluring. Serve it with rice, warmed pitas, or crusty bread.

Here’s how you really make cochinita pibil: Dig a pit and build a large wood fire in it. Cover the wood with rocks. When the rocks crack, they’re ready. Rub the pork as directed here, then wrap it in banana leaves. Put in the pit, then cover with leaves and douse the whole thing with water. Cover the pit. Let sit for a day or so. Eat. Or try my method, which is not bad at all.

Among the most mistreated and overused terms in cooking is jerked, which, at least when I had it in the central Jamaican highlands—Cockpit Country, as it’s called—is essentially a beautifully seasoned pork (or, originally, boar) shoulder slow-cooked over coals. (You cannot make a “jerked” pork tenderloin; it will simply dry out.) The distinctive flavors are nutmeg, allspice (which is called pimento in the islands), and habanero peppers. If possible, crack a nutmeg into pieces and toast about half of it in a skillet until fragrant, with about a tablespoon of allspice berries, then grind them together. If not, use dried spices as directed here. If you have a gas grill, this will be easy; but if at all possible, set up an aluminum tray of soaked wood chips over the side with the heat and replenish as necessary. If you use charcoal, use real charcoal instead of briquettes if you can. Serve this with Coconut Rice and Beans (page 516) and, if you dare, Habanero-Garlic Salsa (page 611). Other cuts of meat you can use here: bone-in chicken legs (cooking time will be considerably shorter, about 1 hour); spareribs, though not traditional, are also good.

You can make this easy mint chutney quite hot, and it still seems balanced, especially when served with a rich, flavorful meat like lamb. Heat, as aficionados know, comes in a wide variety of flavors, and what works best here is a bit of roasted fresh habanero (also called Scotch bonnet), the hottest chile you can find. But minced raw jalapeño or hot red pepper flakes are also good. No matter what you use, add a little at a time (I’d start with a quarter teaspoon if you’re using habanero) and taste repeatedly, bearing in mind that the heat of chiles can “bloom” after a few minutes. Serve this with a neutral dish like plain rice, and perhaps a cooling salad.

The Philippines is not renowned for its cuisine, but chicken adobo is the well-known exception. The basic idea is this: You poach chicken in a mixture of diluted soy sauce, vinegar, and spices until it’s just about done, and then you grill or broil it. Before serving, the poaching liquid is boiled until reduced (thus eliminating any fears of bacterial contamination) and used as a sauce; it’s delicious over rice. If you know you are going to make the dish a day or two before eating it, you can poach the chicken in advance and refrigerate it, in or out of its liquid, until you’re ready, then proceed with the recipe. But because the grilling or broiling time will be a little longer than if you proceed without stopping—the cold chicken must heat through—you should use slightly lower heat to avoid burning. Serve this with plain white rice.

In India, it should be noted, much “mutton” is actually goat, and—except in the most expensive restaurants or wealthiest homes—this spice mixture would be used on meat that would later be braised in a yogurt sauce, much like the one for the meatballs on page 424. But with our relatively young, tender lamb, you can just rub the meat with the spices and grill. (If you refrigerate for an hour or a day, the taste will be somewhat improved, but it’s not imperative.) I find this dish just as elegant as the French version, page 358, especially when it is on the spicy but mild side, with the chiles omitted. Serve with simple Pilaf (page 513) and, if you like, Curried Carrots (page 451). Other cuts of meat you can use here: beef steaks like skirt, sirloin (New York) strip, or ribeye are all good treated this way.

A basic spicy braised dish (non-Indians might call it a curry) that can be varied as you like (a couple of ideas follow the main recipe) and can also be made with lamb, pork, or seafood. Though it is traditionally made quite hot in its northern India home (as much food there is), you can reduce the number of chiles to one for a much milder version or increase them if your tastes run that way. Because the chicken is not browned, the dish is relatively easy to make; you can remove its skin if you like, because without the browning it adds nothing. I love this with a Paratha (page 559) but that might be too much work; it’s delicious with any rice dish also.

This recipe doesn’t demand anything particularly exotic to produce an authentically Malaysian flavor. But instead of relying on canned curry paste as so many similar dishes do, this one offers a good deal more fragrance and sweetness by starting with fresh spices. If you’ve got access to a good market and would like to try a more unusual chicken curry from Southeast Asia, try the Red-Cooked Chicken (preceding recipe) or the Braised Duck or Chicken with Fresh Curry Paste on page 328, which incorporates Thai ingredients like dried shrimp or fish sauce. This curry is great with white rice but even better with the Malaysian coconut rice, Nasi Lemak, on page 515. You can make this curry a day in advance—keep it covered in the refrigerator overnight and warm it gently over low heat before serving.

Kofte are at home in a dozen or more countries, under a variety of names. The most basic combine ground lamb and onion in a fairly smooth paste—not chopped, like the best hamburgers are, but quite dense—and are grilled on skewers (you can, if you prefer, shape them into burgers or meatballs and grill that way). Beyond the basic, there are infinite varieties; I get into some of them, but this is a subject on which one could write a book . . . Serve, if you like, with Parsley-Onion Condiment (page 596).

You might think of this as a kind of indoor shish kebab, one that contains its own built-in sauce, a combination of yogurt and the juices exuded by the lamb and roasted vegetables. Serve with rice or pita bread. Other cuts of meat you can use here: beef tenderloin (filet mignon) or boneless chicken thighs (which will require a little longer cooking time).

Traditionally this bird is taken from the liquid and served without further cooking, hot or at room temperature. But I like to finish it by placing it in a hot oven where, in just five minutes, it develops a dark brown, crispy crust; this browning can also be done a few hours later. Perhaps the best thing about this sauce is that it can be used time and again, as long as you freeze it between uses (or refrigerate it and bring it to a rolling boil every few days) and top up the liquids now and then. Mei Kuei Lu Chiew wine is available at most Chinese markets for about $2 a bottle, and yellow rock sugar can be found at Chinese markets too.

Zarzuela—the word means “medley” in Spanish—unites a variety of fish and is, like bouillabaisse, a dish whose ingredients can be varied according to what you can find. The traditional sauce accompaniment for Zarzuela is Romesco (page 606), but the variation makes that superfluous. I love this with crusty bread.

Said to have been brought to the islands by the Dutch, these are now as deeply ingrained in Japanese cooking as fried chicken is in ours. They are typically served on a simple bed of shredded cabbage, with a commercially prepared tonkatsu sauce. I have re-created the sauce from scratch here, and believe me, it’s far better than the bottled stuff. These can be deep-fried if you prefer (use about 2 inches of oil), but at home most Japanese shallow-fry them, as I do. Other cuts of meat you can use here: veal, chicken, or turkey cutlets.

This is a fast stew you can make with a variety of fish—a few scraps if that’s all you have—or with one or more types of prime fish. For example, it’s great with shellfish only: shrimp or a combination of shrimp, scallops, and a mollusk, like mussels (make sure they’re well washed). But you can make it with a single piece of sturdy fish, like monkfish or halibut. In any case, be sure to serve it with plenty of white rice, preferably basmati.

These rolls take some time and require a bit of assembly—not that there’s anything especially challenging—so I always feel like if I’m going to bother with them, I might as well make a big batch and double the amounts here. In any case, you can prepare the rolls in advance and cook them just before serving. I cook the rolls in a mixture of stock and wine (you could use either instead of both), but many cooks use a light tomato sauce for simmering, like Fast, Fresh Tomato Sauce (page 606). The filling can be varied, too: substitute ground pork or pork sausage for the mushrooms or use a bit of mozzarella instead of or along with the Parmesan. Other cuts of meat you can use here: cutlets of chicken, turkey, pork, or even beef (see Negima, page 102).