Steam

Iranians have a predilection for fresh herbs, which they use in huge quantities. This traditional Iranian New Year’s dish consists of rice cooked with a variety of fresh herbs. Their greenness is believed to ensure a happy and “green” year ahead. The herbs are chosen according to individual taste and mood, and to what is available. Favorite Iranian herbs include tarragon, chives, flat-leaf parsley, dill, fenugreek, and cilantro. Choose 3 or 4 or use them all, but try to use fresh ones.

In Tunisia, where egg dishes are ubiquitous, they call this a tajin because it is cooked in a clay dish of that name. It can be eaten hot or cold.

Stuffed grape leaves were served at the court of King Khosrow II in Persia in the early seventh century. There are numerous versions today of this delicacy, which is popular in every country throughout the Middle East. Meat is used in the making of hot dolma, and cold dolma are without meat. In Egypt the meatless variety is called “false” or “lying” because there is no meat, but it is the most popular. This is my mother’s recipe. It is particularly aromatic. The leaves can be bought preserved in brine, but fresh ones have a better flavor. Only very young, fresh, tender ones picked in the spring will do. They freeze very well raw and wrapped in foil.

Pumpkin is frequently used in Turkey in sweet as well as savory dishes. This is a “cheese” with an unusual, delicious flavor. It is best made the night before and keeps very well for days in the refrigerator. You need the large pumpkins with the sweet orange flesh. They are winter vegetables, but you can now buy them most of the year in Asian and Middle Eastern stores, where they are sold by the slice, weighing between 1 pound and 2 pounds, the seeds and stringy fibers removed. Some greengrocers also sell them by the slice. In Turkey, this dessert is served with the very thick cream call kaymak (see page 218) but clotted cream or mascarpone will do very well. It is very rich, so serve small portions.

Baked apples are a splendid example of “nursery food,” and children as well as adults deserve this sort of comfort on a regular basis. To ease preparation, you need a very sharp, short knife for coring the apples.

Served in its shell, this makes a dramatic presentation as part of a winter meal.

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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

This recipe is a great one to impress guests at your next cocktail party (though you'll have to multiply it). It's really quick and simple, yet it looks very decadent and time-consuming. To make the roll-ups extra elegant for entertaining, wrap the roast beef close to the bottom of the spears, then stand them on a platter.

Chef Cathal Armstrong of Restaurant Eve in Alexandria, Virginia, shared this recipe as part of a St. Patrick's Day feast he created exclusively for Epicurious. Armstrong says, "Kids go mad for this super-easy side dish"—so it's a great way to get your little ones to eat their veggies.

This Vietnamese-style dish infuses fresh mussels with intense flavors of garlic, pepper, and fish sauce. A cast-iron pot, the ideal cooking vessel, gets very hot, cooking the mussels quickly and heightening the flavors of the seasonings. You can also use a wok or Dutch oven.

Shojin Chawan Mushi The classic version of chawan mushi, often part of a formal banquet menu, is made with eggs and fish-based dashi. But lightly seasoned soy milk can be transformed into a custardlike consistency reminiscent of the classic by adding the coagulant nigari, in a process similar to the making of tofu. I have filled my vegan chawan mushi with seasonal tidbits: wild mushrooms in the fall and asparagus tips and fresh bamboo shoots in the spring. The custard must be served in the same heatproof container in which it is steamed. The Japanese use special chawan mushi cups with lids that are placed on top only after steaming. Ramekins, custard cups, or teacups without handles can be used in their place.

These large yellow blossoms are the flowers that form on the fruit of the zucchini plant. They have a beautiful color, a delicate texture and a slight peppery taste. Filled with a creamy mixture of sweet crabmeat, they are steamed and then dressed with a creamy mustard butter sauce.

As tamales spread across Texas and the rest of the South, they underwent some changes. Easy-to-find cornmeal replaced the Mexican lime-slaked masa and paper squares were often used to roll up the tamales instead of the traditional corn shucks. Anglo tamale-eaters preferred beef to the traditional pork, so beef tamales became common.