Growing up, I awoke to the smell of this omelet cooking on most weekends, and my mom (whom our kids call “Nanima”) still makes it for the kids whenever they stay over. First, the potatoes are diced and sautéed until they’re perfectly tender, and then you add the spiced egg mixture. My mom would also pack it with onions, and we’d enjoy it with fresh paratha (a flatbread), yogurt, and green chutney; you can also serve it with Pickled Carrots. It’s kinda like a frittata but with all the Indian spices to warm your soul (and your taste buds). I love that the kids gobble it up and that they’re just as excited when they smell it cooking on a weekend morning as I was!
We like to make up big batches of this homey chowder when the local sweet corn is at its peak. Do not toss out those corn cobs; they make a fabulous stock that gives this soup its wonderful corn-y flavor.
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.
Herby salsas are much loved in Catalan cooking, so, inspired by a recent trip to Barcelona, I’ve embellished this chicken and these rich, stock-cooked potatoes with a vibrant nutty number.
I had this soup in a market in Zanzibar. It was one of those moments that catches you off guard. A seemingly simple potato soup, but it really is much more than the sum of its parts. So understated but it really delivers. This is my memory of the version I had. You can also add fried peanuts or a hard-boiled egg. I don’t remember the soup being spicy, but you could add a chilli or two to the pot to simmer along. The roasted peanuts without salt are worth seeking out as they work really well here but are also great in salads and for general snacking.
Fishcake recipes are always handy, featuring ingredients from the pantry. In Malta, similar patties are also made with corned beef. I like to serve these with plenty of lemon and a salad of iceberg lettuce. They are also nice eaten cold and can be added to a platt Malti.
This is a hearty, filling salad to pack in a cooler or bring on a picnic. It’s also an easy dish to prepare in a rental home if you bring along some cooked, canned lentils. I sometimes put this over a bed of salad greens to make it more of a meal.
You’ve likely seen dozens of roast chicken recipes that promise perfectly browned, crispy skin. I honestly don’t see what all the fuss over crispy skin is about: When your goal is crispy chicken skin, you usually sacrifice the moisture of the meat inside. Plus, once the bird is rested and carved, most of that crispy skin will get soggy with the steam and juices that are released. Instead, I use my favorite method for roasting a chicken, adapted from Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s, in which he bakes the bird in a roasting pan filled with chunks of potatoes (a recipe he calls Potatoes That Taste Better than the Chicken). Instead of a roasting pan, I use a Dutch oven, which helps keep the bird extra moist. As the chicken cooks, its juices and fat get absorbed by the vegetables, making some of the best roasted carrots and potatoes you’ve ever tasted.
Fermentation lies at the heart of Russian cuisine as one of the most ancient techniques of preparing food. As you will notice throughout this book, numerous recipes rely on sauerkrauts, kvass, or rassol (the fermentation liquid) for their distinct tangy flavor. This soup, which carries the name rassol in its very title, is the embodiment of such a tradition. While historically rassolnik is an old Russian dish, the go-to recipe in our family comes from Poland. Back in the 1970s, my mom took part in a school program that allowed Soviet kids to find pen pals in neighboring socialist countries. She hit the jackpot, since she was linked up with a boy in Poland (the most coveted country of all friendly socialist ones). After a few years of correspondence, my mom and her parents were invited—and most importantly permitted by the Soviet officials—to visit her pen pal. Along with a bag full of trendy garments, chewing gum, and fancy stationery, which made her the coolest teenager in school, she brought back this recipe for a good old Russian rassolnik, cooked by her Polish friend’s mom. The delicious soup always reminds me of the interwoven nature of the Soviet and Slavic histories and cuisines.
BACCALÀ STUFATO CON LATTE | salt cod cooked in milk