Snack

I’ll never forget the first time I made these; I went out with a friend to his small “vineyard”—he had a few wild grapevines growing in his backyard—and we picked the leaves and painstakingly cut the heavy veins from all of them, then blanched them and began. I’ve never eaten better, though canned or bottled grape leaves make the process much easier. Unlike most stuffed vegetables, grape leaves are usually served cold. However, they can be served hot, just after cooking, topped with Avgolemono (page 596) or simply some yogurt thinned with a little water and warmed with a tablespoon or two of minced garlic and some salt and pepper. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: cabbage leaves (see page 445).

Savory pies are favorites in Russia, and cabbage pie is the most common. I have not been there, but my friend Jacqueline Mitchell has, and she returned with this, certainly the easiest cabbage pie ever. I think it is best suited as an appetizer or a snack, but it’s an odd dish, good hot or at room temperature, mysteriously simple, and quite glorious when it’s done. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: any cabbage (red will not look too great, though it will taste fine), including Savoy and Napa.

If you think nothing beats grilled fresh corn in the summer, think again: street vendors in Mexico, Chile, Peru, and other Central and South American countries figured out how to make a great thing even better, adding a little lime juice and chile powder to what is already a near-perfect food. The tart lime juice is incredibly refreshing, and a little smoky heat from the chiles brings out the crisp sweetness of the corn. For a more indulgent version, see the variation.

Nori, the familiar seaweed used for rolling sushi, is a popular snack in Korea, especially when treated this way. And if you use the pieces of nori to pick up clumps of rice—a common after-school snack—you may find yourself making this frequently.

The ingredients are similar to those of Spinach Gratin (page 489), but these are faster and crunchier, lightly thickened spinach patties that are cooked until crisp. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: none will be as quick as spinach, but you can make these with other greens—chard is especially good, but also kale and collards and even arugula and watercress.

If you’re going to the trouble of making dosa—all the soaking, pureeing, and overnight resting—it’s sensible to make the amount called for in the preceding recipe (plus it’s not like 4 cups of rice and 1 cup of dal cost much more than half those amounts). But it’s unlikely you’ll have the griddle stamina or appetite to make it through all that batter. Hence, uttapam—a fancy version of dosa. These are perfect for lunch—I usually fry a couple and eat them with whatever leftovers there are from the dosa meal the night before. And although it might be untraditional, I season them with a pinch of chaat masala (page 594), but feel free to omit it if it doesn’t appeal or you don’t have it on hand. If you’re using a pancake griddle, you should be able to cook two uttapam at a time; or you could have two nonstick griddles going at the same time.

Traditionally, these were made as small pies and rolled up after baking (the dough is not cooked crisp but left soft like a pita); you might make twelve or even more from this recipe. Now, to make them look more familiar to visitors from other parts of the world, lahmacun are often made as large pizzas, which you can do if you prefer.

I love aggressively seasoned vegetables (see Broccoli or Cauliflower with Garlic and Lemon, Two Ways, page 452, specifically the second way, with the optional anchovies and dried chile added), and piadine are one of the best ways of justifying a meal centered around them. Piadine are griddle-cooked flatbreads from southern Italy that are sometimes folded and stuffed like calones. But it’s equally authentic, more convivial, and certainly easier to put a pile of piping hot piadine in the middle of the table surrounded by bowls of wilted kale and plates of grilled sausages or prosciutto. Have plenty of red wine on hand and let everybody help themselves.

A quick street snack found in Greece, Turkey, Lebanon, and other parts of the Middle East. Great hot or at room temperature.

Bruschetta is toast. Usually with olive oil. Often grilled. But no more than that—or not much more. You need coarse, crusty bread; the preceding recipe will give you the kind you want, but any peasant bread will do. The amount of garlic you use is up to you. You might split a single clove and rub it on the slices of bread after they’re toasted; or you might mash a few cloves and smear them on, which is obviously stronger.

In many southern Italian homes, this is daily bread, the closest thing to the prototypical pizza. I vividly remember the first time I tasted it (in Rome)—it blew my mind. Please try it. Not only is it delicious, but it’s the launching pad for making any other pizza you like (see the variations for a couple of ideas). For this to be most successful, your oven should be equipped with a pizza stone, and you should make the dough directly on a peel. However, it’s almost as good on a baking sheet, and I give directions for both.

What’s different about this pizza is the inclusion of semolina flour in the crust and bread crumbs on the top, which makes the pie slightly crunchy. Nevertheless, the large quantity of onions (consider using a food processor to slice them) produces a distinctively sweet pizza. This is a large recipe; you can halve it or make it for a party.

Scandinavia has more food celebrations than any place I’ve ever been, with a special food for every occasion. On St. Lucia Day—twelve days before Christmas—it’s almost imperative to eat a couple of these delicious buns, but most people would happily wolf them down any other day of the year as well. Great for breakfast or as a midmorning or afternoon snack.

I thought Lent was a time of self-denial, but in Sweden it’s when these absolutely delicious buns appear, filled with almond paste and whipped cream. They certainly could be served as dessert, but in Sweden people eat them as a midmorning or midafternoon snack.

The spicy sweetness of this Mexican salad is super-refreshing and delicious as long as you have ripe fruit; vary the ingredients depending on what you find. Really, any fruit is suitable, from oranges and apples to pineapples and papayas; peaches and melons are wonderful summer options.

Where the sesame sauce in the recipe on page 532 makes for a rich, hearty dish, this one is elegant and light. In Japan—where it gets plenty hot in the summer—cold soba noodles, served with a dipping sauce, are a common snack or light meal. Soba are brown noodles, made from wheat and buckwheat, and the sauce is based on dashi, the omnipresent Japanese stock. (You can also serve somen, thin wheat noodles, cold; cook them for a little less time, but also until tender.) Dashi is close to essential here, though you can use chicken stock in a pinch. But dashi is so easy to make (and so good) that if you try it once you’ll become devoted to it.

You might scoff at rice balls, and their close cousins, rice sandwiches, but I know plenty of people (self included) who lust after them. Even at their simplest—plain boiled rice, brushed with a little soy sauce and wrapped in a piece of nori—there is something enormously appealing about them. When you try a few of the variations, you’ll find one you like as well. Although there are several different shapes into which the Japanese form rice balls, there is really only one important rule to remember: press the rice just firmly enough to have it hold together; you do not want a tough, packed ball but a loose association of individual clumps. Serve this as a side dish with Japanese food, or as an appetizer.

Made with soft berries, this is straightforward, easy, and delicious; it also has beautiful color. I like it best with blueberries, because they need no straining. If you use raspberries or other berries with seeds, force the soup through a fine strainer instead of pureeing it in the blender to remove them. This is great not only as a dessert but also for breakfast or as a snack.

Sound like just about the least appealing dessert you’ve ever encountered? That’s exactly what I thought when I was offered it in Istanbul. But you know what? I crave it. Whenever you have good cherries, sweet or sour, this is worth considering. And the most difficult part is pitting the cherries.

When I was a kid, these were always sold in candy shops, and I loved them. They were considered far too exotic to make at home; or at least no one would consider doing such a thing. Years later I learned how. Turns out, of course, they couldn’t be easier, and now they are a wintertime staple in my house.