These Japanese burgers, known as hamba¯gu in Japanese, are such a comforting, nostalgic meal for me. My mother would make them with a red wine and ketchup sauce that was especially delicious, as it soaked into the short-grain rice. Because my kitchen has no ventilation—it’s awkwardly placed in the middle of the apartment, the farthest point from all the windows—I particularly appreciate making patties in the oven on a sheet pan. I can make a big quantity (ten!) without setting off the fire alarm. The ketchup sauce is the best part and gets made right on the hot sheet pan as you scrape up bits and pieces and mix everything together. If you’re not in the mood for cabbage, you can also serve the burgers and rice with a different vegetable, such as blanched broccoli, our Simplest Arugula Salad (page 274), or even some sliced cucumbers sprinkled with a little salt and vinegar.
Choose as many varieties of beets as you can find for a truly spectacular, colorful salad. We typically use a mixture of red beets and golden beets, but when we can also find pretty Chioggia (striped) beets, we throw them in as well. Make sure you roast the golden or striped beets separately from the red beets, which will color them red. (Red beets make a great natural Easter egg dye!)
This is the ultimate one-pot meal that feeds many and comforts all. By far, my favorite traditional main course. Essentially a soup made with meat (a combination of beef and pork) or seafood and root vegetables, the dish varies from home to home and town to town.
A whole book could be written about this dish, since it has been adapted and appropriated by many countries across Latin America and the Caribbean. Hence, sancocho recipes are personal, unscripted, often use locally available ingredients , and can be watered down if unexpected mouths show up.
Serving and eating sancocho is particularly personal. I go with how it was always served at my mother’s home: Once the soup is ready, the roots, corn, and meats are taken out of the broth and divided onto large platters. The broth is then strained, skimmed, and reheated to be served on the side along with lime wedges, avocado slices, white rice, and ají.
Each person gets a plate and a bowl, and they assemble their own sancocho as they wish. Some cut the roots and meats up to add back into the broth, while others eat it separately and sip the broth between bites. Whichever way you choose is fine.
Regardless, there is a lot of silverware involved.
This is my take on the classic black and blue steak salad that I enjoyed back in my steak-eating days, but I use mushrooms as a substitute. Mushrooms have this “meaty” texture going on and once they absorb whatever marinade or sauce you cook them in, it really helps to bring out their umami flavors. They become so flavorful and juicy and are perfect on top of this familiar classic. Every time Alex eats this salad, he always says “Mmm!” Which as you know is one of the biggest compliments. Mushrooms are one of his faves and he loves it when I prepare them this way.
INGREDIENTS
We visited Oman during one summer, and it was so hot that practically nothing happened during the day. When the sun finally went down, we were delighted to find that many little mishkak stands that sell kebabs were open then. In Muscat, Oman, we were told that the best food was in fact in an area by the airport known for its street stalls. There we saw vendor after vendor with the same thing: kofta (ground meat) and regular kebabs. What stuck out above all the other tastes were the shrimp kebabs we got at one stand—they had a kind of fire to them.
We were determined to get the recipe from the very confused proprietor, who gamely entertained our many questions while we scribbled down notes in the dark, but mostly he couldn’t fathom why we cared so much. Between our notes and what we managed to communicate between us using only the common language of food, we figured out that their marinade included tamarind, lime, and local chiles. A bit of trial and error upon our return to DC led to this recipe for the best grilled shrimp I’ve ever had. I love using dried black limes, which add a zesty sourness to dishes and drinks. These limes are dried whole, and many of them turn black during the process, though don’t be alarmed if you see much paler ones. They can be found whole and ground in Lebanese, Persian, and Indian grocery stores and online. Before grinding whole limes yourself, break them up first by crushing them under a heavy pot.
On Sundays in South Africa, you can smell these curried lamb skewers cooking over live fires throughout every neighborhood as families gather around the braai, an Afrikaans word that describes both the social event and the actual technique of grilling over a live fire. These sweet and savory skewers can be made with pork, beef, or lamb and are displayed in almost every South African butcher’s counter or grocery store, already prepped and marinated for convenience. Stateside, I make my own sosaties with boneless lamb and marinate them overnight when time permits. We love serving these to guests who visit our home for a braai, with a round of Springbokkie (a traditional peppermint liqueur shot)—the best conversation starter!
Indonesians eat a little sambal (a fiery chili condiment) with every bite of food. You’ll find it served with noodles and fried rice, plonked into soups and curries, dolloped over fritters, even eaten on its own with just a plain bowl of rice. When the idea struck to pair crisp, golden chunks of potatoes with sambal – a nod to the iconic Spanish dish patatas bravas, in which fried potatoes are served with spicy tomato sauce, sometimes topped with mayonnaise – I ran to the kitchen.
While traditional patatas bravas, and most Indonesian potato recipes, use a deep fryer, I’ve opted for roasting them in the oven until golden for ease. This simple sambal begins with a paste of red chiles, garlic, shallots and ginger, a quintessential base for many Indonesian meals. The sauce, once reduced, reaches a peak of tomatoey-umaminess hot enough to tingle your mouth.
Combined with the crispy, golden potatoes and a liberal coating of Kewpie mayonnaise (use vegan mayo if you prefer), it will keep you diving back in for more. Is this dish an appetizer, an entrée or a side? It could be any of these, but whatever you serve it with, it will be certain to steal the show.
Prawn Curry with Darkened Cinnamon
An˘duru kurun˘du saman˘ga issan kariy
YOU’LL NEVER GO BACK to cooking a whole bird after making this recipe. I’ve broken the turkey into its primal cuts, which allows the meat to cook more evenly—in half the time! The meat turns out perfectly cooked, classically flavored, golden brown, and delicious every time—with far less babysitting than a whole turkey. This method frees up the oven sooner, plus the carcass can be simmering into stock for the gravy ahead of time.
I’ve used my spice cupboard staples for the seasonings so the drippings make tasty gravy, and all you’ll need is a standard half-sheet pan and a metal rack that fits inside it.