Vegetable

Similar to Tempura (recipe follows), these are usually made only with vegetables—but a very wide assortment—and the batter is best when prepared with chickpea flour (also called besan or gram flour and available at Indian and many Asian markets and most health food stores). Traditionally, the batter also often contains anardana, a powder made from ground pomegranate seeds—if you can find some (try the same stores that have besan), add a teaspoon to the batter, along with the garam masala. Pakora batter can also be fried on its own, as a fritter; mix a medium onion, chopped, into it, and drop it by the tablespoon into the hot oil.

These traditional bite-sized treats are served as a starter or a snack throughout the Caribbean (and, for that matter, in parts of Europe). They must be served hot: I recommend that you serve them to your guests while they’re standing around the stove and let them eat them with their fingers (or on toothpicks). If you want to serve them at the table, consider Aïoli (page 603) as a dipping sauce. Or you can follow Moorish traditions and serve them with honey or molasses.

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 sweet fritters are a cross between doughnuts and potato pancakes. That may sound strange, but, like doughnuts or churros, they make a great break fast or snack food. Buñuelos are most often made from a combination of three roots. One is yucca (also known as cassava and, confusingly enough, tapioca and manioc); it has a tough brown skin, bright white flesh, and a tough core that should be cut out before cooking. The second is malanga (also called taro), which resembles a hairy yam but has a lovely, creamy interior, sometimes streaked with purple. Finally, there’s boniato, also known as batata or Cuban sweet potato. It’s in the same family as sweet potatoes and yams (and either can be substituted here). The reddish skin encases white flesh, which is dry and has a subtle sweetness. All three of these can be found at major good supermarkets and Latin groceries, right next to one another.

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.

The original and superior version of nachos with cheese has the smoky spiciness of roasted chile and chorizo. While it can be served with tortilla chips, it is best scooped and wrapped into warm corn or flour tortillas. This makes a great simple lunch served with salad or soup.

The Korean coast is known for its variety of delicious clams, which inspired this local specialty. More like super flavorful pancakes than the highly breaded clam cakes sometimes served in the States, they are a good use for our sea clams, which are sold fresh, chopped, in their own liquid (canned clams, which are acceptable, will not be as flavorful). These are best eaten with your fingers, by the way.

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 simple starter is served all over the world—at least wherever chiles are grown—but I first had it in Basque country. Here they’re fried, but you can grill fresh chiles as well; in either case they taste fresh, smoky, salty, and spicy all at the same time. The chiles you use can be mild or hot. If you use mild long chiles, like Anaheim, most people will be happy.

This tart calls for the same procedures as the Tomato Tart (preceding recipe), with a different but equally summery—and, with its bit of curry powder, more unusual—topping.

The taste of strong mustard distinguishes this Provençal specialty, which can be served as a snack or a first course. Although you can make this simple, rich crust in the food processor (follow the procedure for Sweet Tart Pastry, page 654), it’s so simple and straightforward it’s almost as easily done by hand.

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.

A staple of many tapas bars, and among the most elementary of appetizers, this is a surefire crowd pleaser—as long as your crowd isn’t vegetarian. Even if some members are, you can skewer plain mushrooms or mushrooms and other vegetables—like red peppers and zucchini, for example.

In pais Vasco—Basque country—many tapas are substantial and filling. This meets that requirement, but it is also quick and simple. I once had it made with chanterelles, which of course produced a sublime version. If you can get them, or other wild mushrooms, the dish will be really special, but it’s quite wonderful with shiitakes. As for an omelet, you can put most anything you want in here; especially good is about a cup of chopped shrimp added just before the eggs. You can serve this on toast or bread, as is often done in tapas bars, or just by itself. It also makes a fine main course for two.

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.