Starter

If Stracciatella is egg drop soup’s less-well-known cousin, avgolemono is its neglected stepchild and it can be prepared easily, quickly, and almost effortlessly from ingredients that most of us always have on hand.

Egg Drop Soup, a cliché in American-Chinese restaurants for at least fifty years, has a less-well-known Italian counterpart called stracciatella. Both are based on the simple fact that eggs scramble or curdle in boiling water or stock, and each demonstrates the ease with which a basic dish can be transformed in spirit, moving from one cuisine to the other almost as quickly as you can change your mind about which you prefer.

Egg drop soup is best flavored with soy sauce, plenty of chopped scallions, and a bit of sesame oil. Starting with a good chicken stock will yield the best results, but purchased stock can be substituted in a pinch.

Fresh peas are inestimably better than frozen for munching, but by the time you cook them and mix them with ginger, they have lost much of their advantage; if you can’t find them or deal with them—the shelling does take a while—by all means use frozen.

This Soup is on the thin, almost drinkable, side. If that doesn’t appeal to you, use sour cream, perhaps a bit more than the quantity recommended here, or throw a peeled, diced potato in with the peas, which will give the final soup quite a bit of heft.

Most of the time spent making soups like this one and the preceding Asian-Style Cucumber Soup goes to chilling: refrigerate the cucumbers as their moisture is drawn out; refrigerate the stock, yogurt, or sour cream that is their base; and, if time allows, refrigerate the soup itself so you can serve it not cool but really cold. And remember, the lively flavor of these derives largely from a load of herbs—vary them to your heart’s content, but don’t leave them out.

I like gazpacho, but the ultimate minimalist version—take a few tomatoes, a red pepper, some onion, oil, and vinegar, and whiz it in a blender—doesn’t always cut it for me. When I confessed this to my friend and sometime co-author Jean-Georges Vongerichten, he suggested I abandon tradition entirely and combine tomatoes with another fruit of the season: cantaloupe. These, combined with basil and lemon—in place of vinegar—produce the mildest, most delicious, creamiest gazpacho I’ve ever tasted. Make sure to use ripe cantaloupe and tomato at the height of the summer for the best results.

For years I was stuck on blended or cooked cucumber soups, until I was served a clear, chunky, ice-cold soup laced with soy and with the sour-sweet-salty-spicy combination characteristic of so much Southeast Asian cooking. After I duplicated that, it occurred to me to make a similar preparation with nam pla (fish sauce) and coconut milk, an equally spicy but wonderfully creamy concoction. I know I’ll never use either the blender or the stove to make cucumber soup again.

Good tomatoes are bursting with potential. The difference between consuming a tomato out of hand and slicing it, then sprinkling it with a pinch of salt and a few drops of olive oil, is the difference between a snack and a dish. And the great thing about tomatoes is that it takes so little to convert them from one to the other. In this instance—though not always—peeling and seeding the tomatoes is worth the effort. To do so, bring a pot of water to a boil. Meanwhile, cut a small X on the smooth (flower) end of each tomato. Drop them into the boiling water. In about thirty seconds, you’ll see the skin begin to loosen. Immediately remove from the boiling water and plunge into a bowl of ice water. When they’re cool, peel, then cut them in half through their equator. Squeeze and shake out the seeds. (For best flavor, do this over a strainer and recombine the reserved juices with the pulp.) Use fresh thyme (1 teaspoon), dill (1 tablespoon), basil (1/4 cup), parsley (1/4 cup), chervil (1 tablespoon), chives (1/4 cup), or a mixture of herbs to make this even better; garnish with fresh herbs, too, if you like.

“Real” Miso Soup is a little more complicated than this quick version, which begins with dashi, a basic Japanese stock made with kelp (kombu) and flakes of dried bonito (a relative of tuna). Although dashi has definite character and is easy enough to make, it is a light stock, pretty much overpowered by the miso anyway. So I just whisk or blend a tablespoon of miso into a cup of water and put my energy into turning the soup into a meal, adding cubed tofu and a couple of vegetables at the last moment. If you don’t find tofu alluring, you might throw some shrimp or boneless chicken into the soup, where either will cook in a couple of minutes. The only trick lies in getting the miso to dissolve properly, creating a smooth, almost creamy soup rather than a lumpy one. But this is in fact a snap: you just whisk or blend the miso with a few tablespoons of hot water before adding the rest of the liquid. Any cooking from that point on must be gentle to preserve the miso’s flavor and aroma.

Much like the Egg Flower Soup (and Stracciatella variation) on page 115, but far more substantial and suitable as a main course. This is a perfect soup for a cold winter night; many Koreans would add considerably more garlic and a bit of ground hot pepper as well.

These are chicken croquettes with North African flavors. Leftover mashed potatoes and chicken are absolutely acceptable and you can use cooked cod (or other white-fleshed fish) in place of chicken. Any vegetable or salad will round this out nicely.

Truly one of the great delights of Eastern Mediterranean cooking, always refreshing and comforting. For an easier version, try simplest Egg-Lemon Soup (or the Lithuanian recipe that follows) as a variation. I am tempted to say you must use good homemade stock for this, but I’ll leave it as a recommendation. I had the soup made with tomatoes once—a regional variation—and enjoyed it very much. But the color may not be what you’re expecting.

Caraway seeds bring their interesting, bitter character to this simple soup, which is produced throughout Eastern Europe. It’s light but flavorful when made vegetarian, richer and more robust with bacon and beef stock. The Scandinavian variation is even simpler (and sweeter). To crush the caraway seeds, put them in a small plastic bag or wrap them in plastic or wax paper and press on them with the bottom of a pot (or other heavy object) or go over them with a rolling pin.

Yakitori shops—small places, mostly joints, where you sit at the counter—specialize in chicken, though you can use this sauce and technique for almost anything that can be cut into bite-sized pieces: chicken wings, chicken skin, chicken livers or gizzards, bits of pork, shiitake mushrooms, scallions, even garlic cloves. Sometimes different things are combined on skewers, too, so feel free to go that route. A good hot fire, preferably made with real charcoal (not gas and certainly not briquettes) is requisite. Chicken thighs are often boned before sale; if you can find only bone-in thighs, you will quickly figure out how to remove the meat from them—it’s simple (and the bones make great stock). Do not use breasts in this recipe unless you are a fan of dry meat. As long as you have the grill going, you might make some Roasted Red Peppers (page 470). Or, if you feel like it, Sautéed Peppers with Miso (page 78). Either is a great accompaniment. Shichimi pepper is a spice mixture sold in Japanese markets.

I love baked eggs, so I was delighted to come across this elaborate version, served as an appetizer before a Spanish dinner (I like it at brunch). When it was made for me, it contained small amounts of asparagus and peas, but you could use bits of any vegetable you like; leftovers are the best option. Use both meats, either, or neither; this is essentially a dish that was created to combine eggs with whatever else is on hand.

Perhaps the most commonly seen tapa of all, this is a dish I have loved eating (and making) since I first visited Spain more than twenty years ago. Don’t be put off by the large quantity of olive oil; much of it will be poured off (and will have a lovely taste, so you can use it for sautéing; refrigerate in the meantime).

This is the recipe of my friend Vikram Vij, whose Vancouver restaurant, Vij’s, is among the best Indian restaurants in North America. Other cuts of meat you can use here: Beef tenderloin (filet mignon), cut into medallions. Pilaf (page 513), Dal (page 433), and other standard Indian accompaniments would do nicely here.

Meat to be grilled for shish kebab, usually lamb, is ideally marinated in a paste of yogurt, minced onion, and spices, even if it’s only for a few minutes. If you prefer to eliminate the yogurt, use a couple of tablespoons of olive oil instead. And if you have dried ground sumac—a sour spice found at all Middle Eastern stores—sprinkle a little of it on the meat just before serving (you won’t need the lemon). If you choose to grill other vegetables—tomatoes, peppers, mushrooms, more onions, whatever— skewer them separately. Simply brush them with a little olive oil and sprinkle them with salt and pepper. These skewers, of course, are ideal with Pilaf (page 513). Other cuts of meat you can use here: beef tenderloin (filet mignon) or boneless chicken thighs (which will require a little longer cooking time).

This simple steamed chicken is usually served cold, and it’s refreshing on warm summer days, like a good chicken salad. Shaoxing wine, with its full, distinctive flavor, is best for this dish, but Fino (dry) sherry is a good substitute. Start this as long as a day in advance; the more marinating time, the better. If you don’t have a large steamer, you can use a big pot with a rack set inside. Or simply poach the chicken, as in the variation.