Steam

I like to serve this with curries and grain pilafs. Try it with Long-Grain and Wild Rice Pilaf (page 99) or Fragrant Rice and Cashew Pilaf (page 100).

I have long enjoyed combining these two cruciferous vegetables. Broccoli takes slightly more time to cook than cauliflower, so it is given a head start.

Spinach and mushrooms are nicely flavored with sharp cheddar in these delectable wraps.

A lighter tortilla dish, this is good served with a hearty grain pilaf or a bean dish.

Spicy Thai peanut sauce is another of my favored shortcuts to great flavor. There are a number of good, natural brands available, some much lower in fat than you might expect. Serve over hot cooked brown rice or Asian noodles such as soba.

Fresh Prince Edward Island mussels are God’s gift to an appetizer menu. This dish has worked in every restaurant that I’ve been involved with and people just love it. If you don’t have saffron, it’s okay—but the curry is a must. I like serving grilled bread with this for sopping up the delicious broth.

If the rice for this recipe is not perfect, the sushi will be ruined and you’ll end up eating out. I strongly recommend investing in a rice cooker. They are relatively inexpensive and the rice comes out perfect every time.

The clams in this dish are steamed with tomatoes, fresh basil, and red pepper flakes. The flavors are simple and delicious. Dinner in under an hour never tasted so good.

As I wrote in this chapter’s introduction, the fishermen of Bagnara, a beautiful port on the Calabrian coast just north of the Strait of Messina, are renowned for their skill in catching the magnificent swordfish that migrate to this corner of the Tyrrhenian Sea every year. During our recent visit, I was not surprised to learn that the cooks of Bagnara are equally skilled when it comes to cooking pesce spada as well. The recipe I share with you here is among the simplest and best I have ever tasted, anywhere. Of course, as always in seafood cookery, the freshness of the fish is the key to success, so be sure to get swordfish at its absolute best.

Celery is plentiful and a wonderful vegetable, yet I see it mostly used in making stocks or salads. This way of braising celery is easy and flavorful, and makes a grand side dish for grilled fish or chicken. It can be cooked in advance and reheated when your guests come—or serve it at room temperature as an appetizer. I’ve also discovered that any leftovers make a very good chutney: chop coarsely and spread on a sandwich of cold cuts or cheese. Fantastic!

This is the definition of minimalist Thai cooking. The steam not only gently cooks the fish until just tender but also creates an instant, complex sauce from a handful of basic ingredients. Scoring the fish's flesh allows more of the flavor to season the fish and facilitates faster steaming. The fish is cooked on a plate that fits inside the steamer, to catch the juices.

This moist and fluffy steamed green tea confection has a texture similar to that of chiffon cake. My favorite version includes sweet-simmered black beans randomly scattered throughout the batter. A dried fruit-studded kinako (toasted soy flour) version (see below) is also popular.
As with many Japanese confections that were adapted from European cuisines, the traditional recipe calls for eggs and cow's milk. I offer a vegan version using soy milk. The richer the soy milk is (higher percentage of soy solids), the better the texture will be.

Serve this dish with toasted bread to soak up the juices. To debeard the mussels, grab the beard with a kitchen towel for a better grip.

The novelist Julia Alvarez grew up in the Dominican Republic; her husband, Bill Eichner, is the son of tenant farmers in Nebraska. Dinner at the couple's Vermont home is a study in how far-flung flavors have enriched the simple sturdy fare of America. Dr. Eichner spent hours coaxing Alcarez's mother, her aunts, and her cousins (not to mention, Ana, the family cook) into giving him the broad outlines of their family's dishes—sweet-and-sour carrots, spicy Caribbean chicken, red beans and rice, and bread pudding. He tested the recipes on his parents, Ruth and John, who now live a couple of minutes away. Ruth, herself an accomplished cook, really liked the recipe for sweet-and-sour carrots.

Highway 84 runs from Santa Fe to Colorado. About forty minutes north of Santa Fe, the highway cuts a paved path through Ohkay Owingeh, a Native American reservation, and the roadside becomes dense with fast-food outlets, outposts of national grocery chains, Walmart, and billboards for Ohkay Casino, Hutch and Norma Naranjo's sprawling midcentury home is set about fifty years back from the road, a shrine to the tug-of-war between new ways and traditional ones. In the backyward Mr. Naranjo built two hornos (behive-shaped adobe ovens). Inside the house, a handmade wreath of dried chiles hangs on one wall and a string of made-for-tourists ceramic peppers on another. A naïve painting of St. Francis hangs not far from a cluster of the dream catchers that the couple and their two grown children fashion from string, feathers, and yarn, just as their Pueblo ancestors did. "We go to church one Sunday and dance the traditional dances the next," said Mrs. Naranjo. A retired social worker, she gives cooking classes and does a little catering. But she spends most of her mornings working the two-acre minifarm where she grows vegetables from seeds that have been passed from one Pueblo generation to another for at least a thousand years. "The history of our people is in those seeds," she says. In the evenings, when her husband builds hornos on the terraces of hotels and McMansions, Mrs. Naranjo visits the elderly women in Ohkay Owingeh, who remember life and cooking when it was closer to the land, and collects their recipes and food stories. "Our history lives in our hands as well," she says. Mrs. Naranjo moves with the efficiency of a modern professional as she smooths cornmeal paste on damp cornhusks. Tiny white kernels from several ears of heirloom corn, and diced green chiles and squash, along with a thick, bloodred chile sauce and shredded fresh cheese, are lined up in small stainless-steel bowls at the head of her tamale assembly line. She notes that tamales were stuffed with rabbit, venison, pork—whatever people had. Vegetable tamales were a fine way to make use of the gardens' overflowing crops. She swathes the dough, sprinkles filling, folds, ties, and places the tamale bundles on a rack set over water in a big enameled pot. From time to time, she glances out the window to the backyard, where her husband is feeding small, dry sticks into this new four-by-four horno. Her smaller tamales are, she says, her only concession to modernity: "People love the little ones as snacks, and Hutch and I love them in these green chile stews we make in the horno."

Meaty chanterelles can stand up to a browning sauté, but for this salad we prefer to steam the mushrooms for a tender and delicate texture.

This is a treat best enjoyed from July to October, when one's pail of freshly picked wild blueberries runneth over. The wild blues that stud this fluffy cake greet the eye like so many sparkling jewels plucked from a maharajah's box. It's a lovely cake to bake in the glowing embers. Set it to cook as the main course is served and, as if by magic, it will be ready by meal's conclusion.

An aromatic broth of garlic, scallions, and ginger infuses the fish and helps keep it incredibly moist.