In the tradition of Singapore or Hong Kong–style street noodle hawkers, India’s version of stir- fried noodles is easy, and it’s a straight-up banger. Our instant noodle of choice is the dried Maggi noodle, which is nearly as beloved in India as Maggi tomato sauce (aka ketchup). Simply cook the noodles in water with their seasoning packet, and in a separate pot cook up the vegetables with a bunch of spices and some soy sauce. Combine the contents of both pots to make a thick, salty noodle-y treat (you can thank me later, after you can’t eat another bite).
The key to creating deeply delicious one-pan meals is building layers of flavor. While it might be tempting to throw everything in at once, taking a few extra minutes to add ingredients in stages gives you so much more depth – it’s the difference between a good meal and a great one. Here, you season chicken with harissa and warm spices, then give it a quick sear. This creates a flavorful fond to cook the onion and garlic, which in turn forms a rich, savory base for toasting the rice. The latter then soaks up the saffron and broth, cooking alongside the spiced chicken. Finish with a spoonful of lemony yogurt to cool everything down and you’ve got a deeply satisfying one-pan dinner.
On days when I’m not in the mood for rice and beans, I make mofongo because, like white rice, it really goes with everything. Mofongo is basically fried and mashed green plantains that are shaped into a large ball (see Tip). And unlike tostones, which require double-frying, mofongo is fried just once, which makes it easier to prepare. Peel, fry, mash, and you’re done. Just make sure to not let the plantains sit for too long after frying, as they can get tough. Your best bet is to fry and mash immediately. If you still find the plantain is too tough to mash, add a little water or warm chicken broth to help soften it. If you want to turn this into an even heartier meal, top it with the meat of your choice and enjoy its rich, savory flavor with just the right hint of garlic.
One of the things I struggled with in writing this book was coming up with reasonable recipe yields for most home cooks. You see, growing up in a household of twelve with a mother who loved to cook, our yields were always enormous. Take this chicken shawarma, for example: When my mom originally developed the recipe, it called for 10 pounds of chicken! She would keep the cooked shawarma in the fridge, and whenever one of us would tug at her clothes and say we were hungry, she could say, “There’s shawarma in the fridge; go make yourself a sandwich.”
I scaled this recipe back to use 5 pounds of chicken, which may still seem like a lot . . . but the Arab in me cannot tell you to make less. The warmly spiced, vinegary chicken is great in a sandwich, on a salad, or on its own—perfect for meal prep.
Though its exact origins are debated, this unique sweet and savoury sandwich, often packed with egg, cabbage and sugar, is now a ubiquitous sight on the streets of Seoul, and an iconic street food breakfast to fuel busy mornings. It’s the ultimate grab-and-go meal that perfectly captures the dynamic energy of the city.
In LA, you can’t walk far without stumbling upon a taco stand that’s offering some of the best tacos you’ve ever had. I was inspired to start my own food cart, Thum and Thum, in the heart of Koreatown. Instead of tacos, though, I sold the kind of street food you’d find in Laos, like spicy, pungent papaya salad bursting with bold flavors. LA’s rich diversity is an exciting playground for culinary innovation, a place where foods from different cultures evolve naturally, and sometimes intermingle. A few years after I started Thum and Thum, this laab taco was born, a product of my love for both Lao food and LA’s taco culture. The crispy rice paper shells are filled with flavorful pork laab and topped with a cooling avocado crema. Each bite perfectly captures my Lao- Cali experience.
“Jerk” refers to both the seasoning, and the style of cooking over pimento wood. Pimento is unique to the region, and Jamaica remains the largest producer, which is why it has become so deeply tied to the island’s culinary identity. The global popularity of jerk cooking has led to the excessive harvesting of pimento wood, significantly reducing its availability.
Sofrito: This aromatic mixture is the heart of many traditional Puerto Rican dishes. Use as a base for rice, beans, stews, or marinades to add authentic Puerto Rican flavor.
Green seasoning is one of the most important building blocks in Caribbean cooking. Almost every island has its own version, and it is the first layer of flavor in countless dishes. At its heart, it is a blend of fresh herbs, garlic, onions, peppers, and citrus, pounded or blended into a paste. Some cooks lean heavily on culantro (chadon beni), while others use more parsley or thyme, and the balance of heat depends on what peppers are at hand. Green seasoning is more than just a marinade—it’s memory and instinct in a bottle. You season your chicken with it before it ever touches a pot, rub it into fish before frying, stir it into stews, or even fold a spoonful into rice for depth. Every cook has a jar tucked into the fridge, and every family swears by their version. To understand Caribbean food culture is to understand that seasoning begins here.
When I think of the foods that truly symbolize growing up on Long Island, one of them has to be the humble corn muffin. Bagel shop (or, as we call it, “bagel place”) and deli culture is something we Long Islanders take very seriously. Both establishments require great bagels, buttered kaiser rolls, bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwiches, thin chicken cutlets, massive slabs of crumb cake, overly sweetened iced tea lemonades (we call them half and halfs), and cakey corn muffins. No matter what you’re ordering, you always ask for the side-car corn muffin, which is cut in half, buttered, and toasted on the griddle. You’ll be handed a grease-stained brown paper bag with a massive, yellow corn muffin inside, with a quarter pound of softened margarine plopped in the center. The muffin is somehow moist yet dry. And most of the time only half of it ends up in your mouth because it shatters into a million bits on your lap. (I still think my parents are cleaning crumbs out of their cars from decades ago LOL.) Despite the mess, they are a sweet and savory staple and something I will forever crave. When creating this recipe, I wanted all the flavors of corn muffins past—but with a slightly less crumbly texture for an even more enjoyable eating experience.
This cauliflower is dressed up with luscious flavors—anchovy, raisins, garlic, orange, and breadcrumbs—a typical combination in Sicily. I pair it with burrata, which, I admit, is everywhere these days, but I will never get sick of it.
One of my favorite things that I ate in Singapore was chile crab, a cultural icon. A sweet and tomatoey sauce, enriched with eggs and used to smother giant crabs. We also got a black pepper butter crab which was so buttery and peppery. We ended up combining the two crabs and it created the most delicious bite we could have imagined – peppery, spicy, and slightly sweet. I’ve encompassed that glorious bite into a burger. To make it more budget friendly I’ve opted for shrimp instead of crab, but feel free to switch out the shrimp for 8 oz / 225g lump crab meat, or even any cooked fish for an easy fish patty.