Green Bean

Pat: This is a third-generation Neely dish. Grandma Rena used to cook it for my dad. Then she taught my momma how to prepare it. Now, you know Grandma Rena was a smart woman, showing Momma how to cook for Dad. Gina: Ladies, this is a very old Southern tactic. My suggestion, if you want to keep your man happy, is to spend some time in the kitchen with his momma and have her teach you a few things. Pat: I always listen to Gina. You should, too. My momma cooked this dish for my dad and for the kids. Kept us all happy. Now I’m cooking it for my girls (it’s one of their favorites on cold-weather days). And I’m sure someday they will cook it for their children.

Gina: Green beans and new potatoes, simmered with some type of pork fat, are a classic Southern combination. This dish is one we both grew up on, and when we cook it at home, the smoky aroma of these simmering vegetables instantly transports us to our mothers’ kitchens. There are few flavors more satisfying to any Southerner than the taste of tender new potatoes and green beans that have absorbed the salty, porky goodness of a smoked ham hock.

A pesto-like dressing made from walnuts, garlic, and plenty of fragrant basil gives fresh, tender green beans a vibrant flavor. This simple, satisfying salad is delicious alongside grilled burgers, roasted chicken, or pan-seared fish.

I’m sure this dish will take you back, whether you make it with “Italian” string beans (those flat wide ones), regular string beans, or the more expensive, thinner haricots verts. It isn’t necessary to start with a long-simmered tomato sauce for these beans; in fact, the flavor will be fresher with this quick-cooked marinara made right in the pan. The acidity of the tomatoes will turn the string beans a sort of olive green. That doesn’t bother me at all—it reminds me of the way my grandmother cooked vegetables. Maybe they weren’t the brightest-green vegetables I’ve ever seen, but they certainly were the most delicious.

Salt cod is expensive. This salad is a good way to use trimmings from a whole boneless or bone-in side of baccalà you bought to make the Marechiara on page 298. If you trim the baccalà before you soak it and save the unsoaked trimmings in the refrigerator, you can take your time making the salad. If you trim the baccalà after soaking it, you’ll have to make the salad within a day or two. I picture this dish as part of a beautiful buffet, but it would make a nice first course at dinner, or a lunch dish all by itself. The directions below will give you a warm salad—the way I like it. If you’d rather have a room-temperature salad, just let the potatoes and beans cool all the way. But please don’t make this with chilled potatoes. Cooked potatoes should never see the inside of the refrigerator. They become waxy and tasteless.

Classic salade Niçoise from the South of France is a relatively light dish to start. With only 477 calories per serving in the original, I was challenged on this one. There was wiggle room, though: My version trims a bit here and there by calling for canned tuna packed in water, egg whites only (instead of whole eggs), a lighter vinaigrette than the traditional anchovy-based dressing, and more greens.

If you are completely exhausted, substitute the salmon steaks with canned salmon. Buy one large can (18 ounces), drain, and arrange the chunks atop the salad. Buy hard-boiled eggs from the salad bar at the market, or boil your own (see Tidbit, page 90).

Why should potatoes have all the fun? These cute little French green beans are a lower-carb, lower-fat alternative to pommes frites, also known as: a pile of fries. Pair these with any of the Burgers, No Buns.

Hey, why should tuna have all the fun? Try this even-heartier rendition.

Confession: I have never been to Spain. This is actually my version of a fantabulous meal I enjoyed at a late-night hot spot in Vancouver, north of the border. It’s good because you get salty, sweet, and savory in each and every bite. Note to self: gotta go to Spain. I serve these with green beans.

With veggies and pasta in one dish, there’s no need to make any sides—plus, you only have to wash one pot!

My favorite ginger-lime chicken was had at a bistro in Montreal, Canada, of all places. This is the at-home version.

One rainy day I called my mom from the road. I was getting a cold and I really wanted soup for supper. She said she didn’t know what she had on hand, but she’d come up with something. This was it. (And you don’t have to be sick to enjoy it.)