Who doesn’t love an easy meal you can whip up after a long day with ingredients you already have in your kitchen? This saucy, comforting bean dish stew is just that. In a world where beans become brownies, pastas, and burgers, serving them whole with a pasta sauce feels rebellious. And don’t skip the garlic-rubbed toast! It really ties everything together. Whether you’re sharing this or not, I love making a whole batch. The simmered leftovers topped with a fried egg are really something to look forward to the next day.
Brother Pedro Alvarez, a monk in his mid-twenties from Mexico, introduced his favorite dish to the monks at Saint John’s. Brother Pedro lived in a Russian Orthodox monastery in Mexico City before relocating to central Minnesota. But this isn’t a recipe he learned at the monastery; he learned it from his grandmother.
As is the case with recipes that travel, this tinga reflects not only its Mexican origins but also its current home in Minnesota. Tinga is typically slow-cooked, shredded meat—anything from beef to pork to chicken—layered with the flavors of chiles, onions, garlic, and tomatoes. Brother Pedro replaced the chicken with wild turkey from central Minnesota. None of the monks hunt, but they do welcome the bounty donated to them from hunters in the area. The honey is the monastery’s own and gives the dish a sweetness that provides the perfect counterpoint to the chiles. Tinga is comforting in the winter and fun for a summertime barbecue, too. Brother Pedro’s advice is to “take it slowly, let the house fill with the smoky aroma. It will bring everyone to the table.”
My aunt Phoebe’s late husband, Uncle Samy, was a passionate cook who had a knack for turning the simplest ingredients into a meal. This five-ingredient chicken was one of his signature dishes that my cousins and I always looked forward to.
The key to perfecting this dish is to make sure the onions are cooked down and caramelized to a deep golden brown, while being careful not to burn them. Just watch and toss the onions around, managing the heat until they are ready.
Here I serve it over a big salad with blocks of feta, bread, and a bowl of Torshi (page 261). If Uncle Samy saw it this way, he’d teasingly say I ruined it with all the embellishments, and we’d have a big laugh. Every time I make this chicken, I think of him.
Maybe a lentil loaf doesn’t sound that thrilling, but you haven’t had this one yet. It has so much flavor and texture, I think it’s more satisfying than a real meatloaf. Even carnivores will ask for a second slice.
I love cucumber salads. This water-rich vegetable makes a great guilt-free snack because of its crunch. It’s also a refreshing side. Much of a cucumber’s nutrition is in its skin, so I leave it on here.
I’m certain there are plenty of small, cute beach shacks on France’s southeastern coast where you can get mussels and fries and drink rosé and pastis with your friends or your lover or alone. But my favorite small, cute beach shack is tucked directly into the seawall (?!) about 20 minutes south of Marseille’s city center, and they toss their mussels in aïoli. Do that here, and add fries.
I absolutely love making this soup now that I have figured out how to make it using my food processor. It used to be quite labor-intensive to cut all the vegetables by hand. Now, I just throw them into the food processor to chop into small pieces, then toss them into my Dutch oven. So quick, so simple, and I also vastly prefer the texture of the soup prepared this way to the traditional way I was taught to make it. The vegetables don’t all come out the same perfect size, which I like, and the rice or pasta is cooked at the same time, making it possible to get my soup on the table pretty quickly.
You can, literally, put any vegetables in soupe au pistou. In spring, I add asparagus and loads of fresh peas. In summer, more ripe tomatoes. In fall, I add butternut squash. It is a substantial soup, and served with a baguette, it could easily be the meal’s main course. A green salad is a nice accompaniment.
My godmother Zia Mimma taught me this recipe, and it’s something that we’ve been making together for what feels like my entire life. The preparation is simple—so simple that we were able to teach it to my stepmom, which is saying something because the woman does not cook—and isn’t much more than pasta simply dressed in a fresh tomato sauce, flecked with good-quality tuna, and tossed with oily, crunchy bread crumbs. It’s the ultimate comfort-food dish, especially for those nights when cooking feels like the last thing you want to do.
Extremely charred broccoli makes for such a great salad. I dream of the burnt broccoli salad from Superiority Burger in the East Village. Brooks Headley, the chef, is really a vegetable wizard; he always comes up with the most brilliant combinations that are so unique, and just work so well. Nothing could be more perfect than that salad, but this plays with some of the sweet, spicy, salty, charred flavors that I love so much about that dish.
Greens plus a generous serving of goodies—shaved carrot and radish, bulgur, chickpeas, dried cranberries, and feta—come together with a standout citrusy dressing to make an entrée-worthy salad that is perfect all throughout the year. Use a mandoline slicer (or a chef’s knife) to produce extra-thin cuts of raw veggies for this salad. The recipe for House Lemon Vinaigrette makes more than double what you’ll need. Keep it in the fridge at all times—ready to dress a simple side of greens.