Poach

This is a great spring salad with two long, lovely green vegetables that have a real affinity for each other (try the Asparagus, Green Pea, and Scallion Sauce for pasta in chapter 3). It is delicious as an antipasto or a first course, or as a side dish to grilled meat and fish. You can serve this salad chilled, but I like it at room temperature. If you haven’t poached scallions before, be sure to note how nicely it brings out the flavors in a mellow way. And here’s a thrifty cooking tip: scallion trimmings are some of the most useful scraps in the kitchen. A handful of leaves and the root ends can make an instant broth, as a substitute for stock—see my recipe for Simple Vegetable Broth, page 288.

Literally fichi al galoppo means “galloping figs,” an intriguing name for such a simple dish. As the figs poach slowly in bubbling syrup, it sounds like galloping horses. The trick here is to cook them with enough sugar so the fruit will absorb the syrup, rather than release its own juices. When this balance is reached, the silky figs remain whole and deliciously impregnated with the syrup.

Although I’ve outed myself as someone who often prefers savory to sweet, even after dinner, I’ve found the perfect compromise that is sure to keep everyone happy. This is one of my favorite summer desserts, for those long, hot nights when you crave something lighter as a finish to your meal. This sorbet is just the ticket; make it when the blueberries are fat and sweet and fresh basil is everywhere you look.

There are fruit people, and there are chocolate people. Even chocolate people will lick their plates clean when presented with a refreshing, lemony panna cotta strewn with wine-steeped peaches. Panna cotta makes a nice spring and summertime dessert because it’s not so rich that you leave the table feeling stuffed, and the lemon verbena adds a welcome, herbaceous tang. This dish is perfect for company because the panna cotta must be made ahead, and the peaches “cook” while coming to room temperature.

You know that friend who calls himself a “foodie,” who isn’t impressed with anything you make, because, yawn, he’s made it before and then took it molecular? Make him eat his words with ravioli stuffed with tender chard, rich ricotta, and—this is the magic part—a duck egg that stays intact until the ravioli is cut, releasing a luscious river of yolk. These are big and rich; two per person is plenty.

A good hash is like soup: you can toss together all the odds and ends from your fridge and pantry and end up with something rustic and hearty that is much more than the sum of its parts.

This sumptuous appetizer stars oysters in an elegant and creamy guise. The oyster mixture spills over the sides of a thick triangle of toasted, buttered bread, and the whole thing is topped off with smoky bacon and snipped chives. The flavors of this dish are great with champagne and have a holiday feel, but it’s delicious anytime you can get great oysters. You could also toss the warm sauté with bow tie pasta for a decidedly rich Sunday supper.

These are great basic techniques for chicken that you can use in any recipe that calls for rotisserie chicken. The poached chicken recipe produces broth that you can use whenever canned stock is called for.

From French Poule au pot to Chinese Hainan chicken to this classic Vietnamese preparation, poached chicken offers clear, pure flavors. In my family, we enjoy the hot poaching broth as the soup course (canh) and slice up the cool chicken for the main dish. The chicken is strewn with fine strips of fresh, tender young lime or lemon leaves, to provide an unusual bright, citrusy contrast. Thai lime leaves, known also as makrut or kaffir leaves, are particularly wonderful if you can find them. At the table, we ladle the broth into our bowls and add a squirt of lime juice and a spoonful of rice. In between eating bowls of broth, we eat the chicken and citrus leaves with more rice, dunking them first in a sauce of lime juice, salt, and pepper. Add a simple stir-fried vegetable and you have a satisfying meal. Purchase the best-quality chicken available for this recipe. Immersing it in an ice bath once it is cooked produces tight skin that Asian diners appreciate: a bit chewy and somewhat crunchy but not greasy. Also, as the chicken cools, a delicious layer of gelatinous juices forms between the skin and meat. Since cooling takes a while, you need to poach the chicken about four hours in advance of serving, or even the day before. Traditionally, the chicken is cut through the bone into small pieces for serving, but I prefer to slice the meat, except for the wings, off the bone.

My mother dislikes the slight astringency of this salad, but my father loves it. One day he secretly taught me how to make the salad. I was tickled then as now by its wild and tangly appearance, juicy texture, and earthy flavors. The element that brings the ingredients together is Vietnamese balm (kinh gioi), a splendid herb with hints of lemongrass and mint. You will find giant, burgundy teardrop-shaped fresh banana blossoms (illustrated on page 174), which are technically buds, in the produce section of Chinese and Vietnamese markets. Select one that feels firm and solid (not spongy) and has a tightly closed tip. The smaller the better because there is less astringency in the bracts (petal-like leaves) and flowers, which are both used here. The blossoms and balm are at their peak in the summer.

Unlike the other salads in this chapter, this one uses vinegar in the dressing, rather than lime juice, for its tart edge. Raw cabbage and vinegar are great partners here, just as they are in any coleslaw. Using a mortar to make the dressing is important, as it allows the garlic and chile to bloom. First, pound the garlic and chile. When they have broken up, switch to a circular motion, using the pestle to mash the mixture against the curved walls of the mortar, an action Vietnamese cooks refer to as smearing (quet) food. A richly hued orange-red paste emerges that has a perfume and flavor that cannot be achieved with a machine or hand chopping.

This is probably the most commonly served salad in the Vietnamese repertoire. Festive looking and tasty, goi dua chuot often makes an appearance at our family celebrations. In fact, my mother made it for the one hundred guests at my wedding reception. Vietnamese delis pack this popular salad for their customers with the dressing on the side. But those versions are often prepared with cucumbers that have thick, waxed skins. I recommend pickling or English cucumbers, as their skins are thin and not waxed and their flavors are superior. Small, briny bay shrimp are easily distributed throughout the salad, to accent every bite, while the chicken and pork lend richness. For an extra note of authenticity, serve the salad with Fried Shrimp Chips (page 37) or Toasted Sesame Rice Crackers (page 320) for scooping up bitefuls.

Sometimes listed on restaurant menus as fresh spring rolls or summer rolls, salad rolls, along with pho, have come to embody Vietnamese food to many non-Vietnamese. They typically combine the elements of a classic Vietnamese goi (salad) but wrapped in rice paper. Southern Vietnamese cooks usually slip a few aromatic Chinese chives into the mix. The chives, dark green, flat blades with a mild garlic flavor, are sold in Asian markets and are also easily grown from seeds. If they are unavailable, omit them and the rolls will still be tasty. Part of the genius of Vietnamese cooking is in how simple ingredients can be crafted into something that is both flavorful and attractive. These rolls reflect that talent.

Eggs Benedict is the quintessential dish of the New York Sunday brunch. I like to put a southern spin on the classic, starting with a fluffy buttermilk biscuit. A Cajun blend of seasonings gives a kick to the luscious hollandaise sauce, which is right at home with New Orleans’ beloved tasso ham. Tasso is cured and hotsmoked pork shoulder crusted with a spicy blend of flavorings such as garlic and cayenne pepper. (If you can’t find tasso, you can try substituting slices of Italian capicola, which is prepared similarly.) Griddled tomatoes are an addition to, not a substitution in, the original Benedict, but I like the slightly sweet, fresh balance they bring to the richness of the other components.

A day of lazy dipping in Gulf Coast waters calls for a cold bowl of cooked shrimp dipped in a sweetsavory sauce. That’s what my mom thought, anyway, and she always had cold shrimp on hand when we stayed at the beach. I love it, too, and it’s a great do-ahead that lets you set out something for your hungry guests as soon as you step inside after a day of sand and sun. I cook the shrimp and make the dipping sauces the day before and stick ’em all in the fridge. When I pull them out, everyone thinks I’m an organized genius. (Naturally, I politely demur.) Snacking on shrimp, nobody notices if I disappear into the kitchen for a little main-course prep work. I usually figure about one-third pound per person. The shrimp usually runs out before anyone’s hunger does, but that works for me. I want my friends to have room for dinner and dessert. If I don’t feel much like cooking, I allow about one-half pound of shrimp per person for a hands-on main course. Of course, I always offer dessert, often as simple as cookies (like Vanilla Sand Dollars, page 83) and ice cream.

The ginger packs a double-edged spicy punch in this sandwich, as fresh pieces in the chicken-poaching liquid and in powdered form in the avocado spread. Mango adds its sweet-tart, cooling magic.

Quince smells wonderful, like a pear with notes of citrus. But resist tasting the raw fruit—it is highly tannic until cooked through. Quince require a long cooking time to soften to the point of being edible, and a sharp knife is needed for slicing through their hard flesh, but their delicate flavor is worth the wait and the work. Quince grows in much of the United States—I’ve even picked some in Central Park—and they are sold at many markets throughout the winter. Serve this dessert on its own or with vanilla ice cream and the easy crunch topping from the Pear Kanten with Pecan Crunch (page 101).

Here’s one for the grown-ups. In Japan, we usually don’t drink sake or beer without a salty or spicy dish to tickle the palate. This udon is both salty and spicy, and is a perfect complement to your favorite beverage. The poached egg yolk in the dish adds a satisfying richness to the broth.

Poaching means to gently simmer food in liquid—water, stock, court-bouillon, or even oil. Here, it’s court-bouillon, an aromatic stock that transfers its flavors to the food cooked in it, traditionally fish and shellfish. Use the best possible extra-virgin olive oil to make this dish really shine.

This dish, also referred to as escabeche, owes it origin to the Spanish, who created the technique of frying or poaching fish or chicken and then marinating it in a citrus or vinegar mixture as a way of preserving the meat. Because the marinating process can take up to a day, it is left in the refrigerator and as a result is typically served cold or at room temperature. It makes a great dish for a picnic or an outdoor meal because it can be made well in advance and only gets better with time.

This is a wonderfully refreshing salad that walks the line between a shrimp cocktail and a ceviche. It’s also incredibly forgiving—so feel free to use as much (or little) of the ingredients as you like. Tangy and fresh, it is a great start to any meal.

I love this chicken salad because it has fun stuff like grapes and celery in it. My mom always adds walnuts, but I say why ruin a good thing. You can cut some of the calories from this by using low-fat mayonnaise, but make sure to mix it in right before serving. Once it is mixed with the other ingredients, low-fat mayonnaise can get watery when it’s refrigerated for a few hours.

I call this “company food”—as in, what can I make for company that’s easy but impressive? Poaching a pear sounds fancy, but all you’re doing is simmering it in a fruity broth. The poaching softens up the pear, making it a breeze to chew and digest. The Saffron Broth turns the pears a beautiful sunset yellow color. Or if you prefer, check out the vanilla and star anise variations below. All three are light, refreshing, and nourishing; if you’re looking for extra calories, top with a generous dollop of nut cream.

Normally I like to pan-sear or broil salmon, but a lot of my clients have asked for a different way to approach fish. Poaching salmon is the answer. It’s a great way to enjoy a fillet without having to endure a lot of cooking smells. Most people associate poaching with eggs, and the concept is the same here. By briefly dunking the fillet in a simmering liquid, it quickly becomes moist and tender. Poaching isn’t boiling, and thank goodness, because that kind of long immersion is a sure way to give fish the consistency of a hockey puck. Here, the poaching liquid is Magic Mineral Broth, which infuses the salmon with even more nutrients—and more yum. Moroccan Pesto is a snazzy topping for this dish, but the possibilities are endless. See the variations below for a few more suggestions.