Steam

Nepalese cooking combines Indian and Tibetan cuisines, and these classic dumplings illuminate that wonderful marriage. In this filling, Indian garam masala is combined with Sichuan peppercorn, an important spice in Nepal and Tibet. Nepalese momos often feature water buffalo, but lamb pairs exceptionally well with the aromatics. You can opt to substitute ground beef, pork, or dark-meat chicken or turkey. Regardless of the meat, these dumplings are like their Tibetan brethren (page 57), full of flavor and delectable juices. If there are left overs, panfry or deep-fry them the next day. Note that these dumplings are eaten with fork and spoon. Chopsticks are the standard and prevailing utensils in only four Asian nations—China, Japan, Korea, and Vietnam.

Whereas boiled dumplings have crinkly skins that are tender from having been immersed in hot water, and panfried dumplings have skins that are a combination of crisp bottom and chewy top, steamed dumplings are texturally in between—the skins are slightly chewy and soft. Gentle steam heat also protects the filling flavor and you taste it more, a bonus for delicate combination such as this one. Unlike many other Chinese dumpling fillings, this vegetarian filling is cooked first to allow the cornstarch to work its cohesive magic, binding the vegetables and pressed tofu together so that they are easier to control when you are assembling the dumplings. I like to use some of the liquid from soaking the mushrooms to season the filling with an earthy savor; if you do too, remember to strain the heady liquid through cheesecloth or paper towel to remove any bits of grit. For details on brown, meatlike pressed tofu, see page 17.

Sabayon is the French version of Italian zabaglione, an airy egg-and-wine custard. It requires a certain amount of energy—and strength—to whip up a batch. If you’ve ever heard a frenzy of whisking coming from the kitchen at an Italian restaurant, you’ve heard why many Italian cooks (especially the sturdy grandmas) have such well-developed arms. But one lick of the boozy, frothy dessert is enough to make you forget those few furious minutes of whipping. If you don’t think you’re up to the task, you can use an electric handheld mixer. But I always feel that if I’ve worked hard to make something, I’ve earned the right to eat it. You can serve the sabayon hot from the stove, although here, it is cooled and whipped cream is added so it can be held before serving.

Sabayon is the French term for zabaglione, the frothy Italian dessert made of egg yolks and wine. It was a great day when I discovered that it could be frozen and scooped like ice cream without being churned in an ice cream maker. Because of the less-than-shy wine flavor, it holds its place in a bowl of fruit soup, especially one made with intensely flavored blood oranges.

Potatoes get a bad rap as being one big carbo load with little or no nutrition. That’s a shame, because it’s not true of all varieties, especially not purple Peruvian potatoes. Smashing, as the name suggests, uses muscle to get what you need, instead of lots of butter and milk like typical mashed potatoes. A hand mixer will do, but I prefer my mom’s old potato masher from 1953. As you pulverize all of those inner starches, you’ll produce a fluffy texture, a lot of flavor, and, with these potatoes, a gorgeous and unusual color.

I decided to make lobster the last recipe in this book so I could give myself the gift of a lobster dinner to celebrate. My father’s family in Montpelier, Vermont, were all passionate lobster-lovers. Being in an inland state, cut off from the sea, only made them more avid for a good lobster dinner, and they frequented The Lobster Pot on Main Street for every kind of celebration. My aunt Marian, after she became a widow, would often stroll down to The Lobster Pot to have dinner by herself, and it was there that she taught me the ritual of eating a lobster—sucking the juices and little morsels of flesh from each leg, and always saving the big claws for the last, because to her they contained the most delicious meat. So, for my treat, I stopped at Citarella’s in Manhattan and asked for a 1 1/4-pounder. The fishmonger held one up to demonstrate for me how lively the little lobster was as it wriggled and pawed the air with its tentacles. I was even asked whether I wanted a male or a female, and of course I said female, so I could enjoy the roe. But when I got it home, there was only the tomalley—the green-gray loose substance that is the liver; there was no roe. I looked in Julia Child’s The Way to Cook and realized that I should have checked first for the little swimmerets under the tail: the male’s are “clean and pointed,” whereas the female’s are “fringed with hair”—a test that is not easy to execute when the creature is wriggling desperately. I have always preferred steaming to boiling, because that way the lobster doesn’t get too immersed in water, and the small amount of steaming water becomes more intense. So I hauled down my largest pot, and arranged a collapsible steamer inside it.

Steamed mussels make a lovely dish to eat alone slowly, plucking the plump flesh from the shells as messily as you like and sopping up the heavenly liquor with chunks of French bread.

Fish in paper is a classic preparation that will totally make you feel like a rock star in the kitchen. It’s super-easy and it’s all about the presentation. All you have to do is toss some veggies and white fish in a parchment package along with some wine, and let them steam themselves. When your guests open their packages, they get a big burst of aromatic vapor and a lovely piece of gently cooked fish on perfectly cooked veggies. Just remember that because you seal the packages, you only get one shot to season everything—if you miss your opportunity then this will taste like a diet dish. You have to season well BEFORE you seal the deal.

Mussels are the unsung heroes of the shellfish world; they’re cheap, fast, and satisfying. (I wish more things in life were like this!) My favorite part of making a big pot of mussels is dipping a hunk of crusty bread in the broth. That’s why I add this lovely aïoli to the mix right before serving. This sexy sauce drips down into the mussel juice, giving it a spectacular flavor and the illusion that it’s a cream sauce. It’s super-dunkable!

Colcannon is a traditional Irish dish of boiled potatoes mashed with green onions, leeks or sometimes chives, kale or cabbage, and milk or cream. I like mine extremely green, with lots of black pepper.

Steaming eggplant gives it a suave, custardy texture that helps it resist soaking up too much oil, setting it up for this rich dressing. I like Anaheim chile flakes here, which are milder than the standard-issue chile flakes. They provide sweet pepper flavor without too much heat.

A light vinegar and dark sesame oil dressing brightens the flavor of broccoli. The sesame dressing is also delicious on other vegetables, such as bok choy, green beans, carrots, and asparagus.

Warm and aromatic—like bouillabaisse without all the fuss. Mussels are best eaten right away, so call everyone to the table when you put the mussels into the pot.

This sweet-and-sour side dish pairs nicely with Asian recipes, as well as with ham or turkey. On its own, the sauce enhances almost any cooked vegetable or meat and is good as a dipping sauce for potstickers.

Green beans are such a versatile vegetable. I love coming up with different flavor combinations for them. They steam quickly, so they are always a great throw-together side dish. I love jarred roasted red peppers for the same reason—they are a flavorful, convenient ingredient to have on hand. So it made sense to combine the two to create this simple and tasty side dish. Note that, as the recipe is written, these green beans are very crisp, which is how I like them. Feel free to cook them longer if you like softer beans.

Asparagus tends to be expensive when it’s not in season and is ridiculously affordable when it is. Though it’s usually available year round, the best time to seek asparagus is from February through June, with April being the prime month. During the peak of asparagus season, I’ve seen it for as little as 97 cents per pound even in Los Angeles and New York City, where grocery prices are far from ideal. Be sure to chop the garlic very finely (aka: mince) in this recipe in order to achieve the perfect balance. If it’s too coarse you may find the garlic to be overpowering.

This simple recipe actually makes quite an elegant side dish. Though the sauce contains only two ingredients, it has a complex flavor. Your guests will think you spent a ton of time, but you can have the dish ready in the few minutes it takes to steam the green beans.

Gina: In the South, rice is an essential partner for roast pork or chicken, or anything with a tomatoey sauce or gravy, but even down here, folks sometimes find themselves a little intimidated by the process of making it. If you are the least bit nervous about cooking rice, look no further than our recipe. It delivers foolproof results every time, cooking up fragrant, fluffy rice infused with aromatics (shallots, garlic, and a few fresh herbs).

This dish can wear many hats. As is, it makes a light appetizer. Served with a zoccolo (fried bread “clog”—see the recipe that follows), it becomes a more substantial main course. Or you can prepare the mussels as described and toss them with freshly cooked linguine. This recipe will make enough sauce for a pound of linguine—six generous servings.

When Suzon Meymy rubs the grains of ready-made couscous between her fingers to separate them, she thinks about her mother, the couscous-maker of Mogador. Unlike Suzon, her mother prepared couscous from scratch. First she would take a kilo or so of coarse semolina, moisten it with a little water, and carefully separate the grains. Then she would rake the fingers of her right hand through the semolina in sweeping circular movements, creating the tiny pellets of couscous. She would rub them against the weave of a fine basket to shape them, and they were then laid out to dry. Afterward, she would pass the couscous several times through a wood-handled sieve to obtain granules of uniform size. Finally, she would steam the couscous twice in a couscoussier, a special pot similar to a doublelevel steamer, which was filled with different kinds of hearty meat-and-vegetable stews. Today, with the availability of presteamed “instant” couscous, the process is much easier. Even so, Suzon mimics the gestures she learned from her mother, rubbing her fingers through the grains. Each time she makes this dish, it is a return to her childhood, her family, and a life that is no more in a small coastal town in Morocco. Although with instant couscous you really don’t need to steam the couscous, I still do, to fluff it up and make it lighter. If you do not have a couscoussier, use a regular stockpot with a vegetable steamer. If the holes are too big, simply line the steamer with cheesecloth to prevent the couscous grains from falling through.

There are hundreds of versions of this salad-like dish that are eaten throughout South India and parts of western India as well. At its base is rice, the local starch and staple. (Think of the bread soups of Italy and the bread salads of the Middle East.) The rice is cooked so it is quite soft. Then yogurt, and sometimes a little milk as well, is added as well as any fruit (apple, grapes, pomegranate), raw vegetables (diced tomatoes, cucumbers), or lightly blanched vegetables (green beans, zucchini, peas) that one likes. The final step is what makes the salad completely Indian. A tiny amount of oil is heated and spices such as mustard seeds, curry leaves, and red chilies are thrown into it. Then the seasoned oil is poured over the rice salad to give it its pungency and reason for being. This cooling, soothing dish, somewhat like a risotto, makes a wonderful lunch. It is best served at room temperature, without being refrigerated. Other salads may be added to the meal.

The traditional method of cooking couscous (the “real thing,” not the quick cooking variety) is by steaming over a watery stew or over water. The method calls for delicate handling. Bad handling will result in a lumpy and rather stodgy couscous.

As with her art of miniature painting and poetry, Persia has carried the preparation of rice to extraordinary heights of refinement. In Iran today, whereas bread is the daily staple, rice is the occasional prestige food for most of the population. It is said that no other country prepares rice in the same perfectionist manner. The result is a light, separate, and fragrant grain.

Sour little red berries called barberries (zereshk in Persian) and yogurt give this chicken-and-rice dish an exciting flavor and texture. The woman who wrote out this recipe for me more than thirty years ago added a comment that it was the most famous and traditional of Iranian dishes.