Once my kids became old enough to use a stove—in our family that’s around age six, still supervised, of course—they were automatically enrolled in the first three courses of Simeon cooking school. The first is learning to cook eggs (scrambled, then fried), the second is making ramen (the instant kind), and the third (and best lesson) is cooking potstickers, also known as mandoo, or gyoza, or what have you. It’s a straightforward process, but one that requires visual feedback and timing, two crucial skills for pint-size cooks. Also, without a doubt, there has not been a moment in the past decade when my house has not had at least one, often multiple, bulk bags of potstickers in the freezer. Quinn, who’s now fourteen, is the official dumpling deputy of our house, and can always be relied upon to cook a batch when the rest of us need a last-minute meal, which is pretty much weekly it seems like.
Even the greatest frozen potstickers can get a little boring, though, which is where this dish comes in handy. It’s the dumpling equivalent of loaded nachos or potato skins, made in the pan you’re already using to cook the potstickers. The sautéed onion-kimchi is a base layer for the gooey, molten mozzarella, which gets finished with chopped tomatoes, scallions, and spicy mayo.
Not sure what to feed your F•R•I•E•N•D•S at your next social gathering? Make sure the menu includes this relatable, reliable, really delicious mix of crunchy veggies, toasted almonds and crushed ramen noodles with an addictively sweet, sesame-ginger dressing.
Popular for decades, yet not exactly gourmet fare, people always go nuts for this retro recipe.
This colorful salad is a feast for the eyes. Full of veggie goodness, the sweetness and spice are beautifully balanced with the fresh dressing that has a slight kick to round things out.
These skillet tortillas use store-bought enchilada sauce for simmering, which makes them an especially convenient option for last-minute savory breakfasts or brunches. You can transform the meal repeatedly by experimenting with different toppings, be they creamy, melty, crispy, or crumbly. I give a few of my favorite options in the ingredient list, but don’t be afraid to add your own finishing touches! Note that the recipe calls for white corn tortillas, rather than yellow; white tortillas tend to be thinner and more pliable, which makes them especially good for soaking up the sauce.
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.
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.
I’m a believer in low-key meals that still feel glorious and indulgent, and here each bite of cod feels more luxurious than the last, but the work is minimal. When you want to celebrate the smallest of achievements, like learning to change a tire or finishing a book, this is the meal, boos. I don’t know anyone with a pulse who doesn’t love garlic butter—a golden ticket to a surere flavorful meal. This is a great recipe to have in your back pocket if you’re hosting a small dinner party and want to save your energy for playing host. And while you wait, pour yourself a glass of wine, make a cocktail, or just kick it.
My mom had a beautiful relationship with her in-laws. That she was neither Mexican nor Catholic was never a problem. She won them over. She told me she would sit down to a conversation about calculus with my grandfather, who also had an amazing mind, and he’d leave her behind in three sentences. Mom learned to cook Mexican food from my grandmother, who was a really good cook.
We like to make a big batch of these noodles for a night of staying in, eating noodles, and binge-watching whole TV series. These aren’t your standard takeout sesame peanut noodles. First off, there’s no peanut butter—instead, deep and distinctively nutty sesame paste and chili oil contribute the bulk of the texture and flavor. A hint of Chinese black vinegar, with its malty, slightly sweet bite, cuts the richness of the sesame paste and plays off the heat of the chili oil. Balanced and complex, these noodles hit all the right flavor notes.
Pernil is a Latin dish of tender, super-flavorful slow-roasted pork with the ultimate crispy skin