Herbs & Spices

Health claims aside, this is delicious, hot or iced, sweetened or not. You can make another interesting tea by omitting the lemongrass and serving the brew with milk instead of lime juice.

Like most iced teas from Asia, this has no caffeine and is not a true tea—more an herbal infusion. Because of the natural sweetness of lemongrass, it needs less sugar than most other iced beverages.

Though this is traditionally and usually made with persimmon, I find the flavor of cinnamon so overwhelming (and the availability of persimmon so limited) that I do away with it. An unusual but super meal ender, always served ice cold.

This is a gentler version of the preceding Indian Masala Chai, perhaps better suited to the palates of Western Europe. Yet it remains exotic and delicious, as does cardamom-spiced coffee (still consumed in the Middle East). Wonderful iced.

This groglike drink has been popular in Russia for centuries. It’s usually prepared without alcohol, but it’s pretty good with it, too—just add 1/2 to 3/4 cup vodka or brandy during the last couple of minutes of simmering. It’s not often served cold in Russia, but I like it that way, as a kind of spicy, odd relation of Masala Chai (page 668).

Contrary to what you might believe, Absolut and Stolichnaya did not invent flavored vodka; it’s been around forever, and you can make your own.

I have had more bad mojitos in the last couple of years—since they became popular—than I had had in my entire life previously. This is the real thing and a fantastic cocktail. There should be enough mint to chew on.

One of the classic moles of Oaxaca, now popular throughout Mexico. Though no mole is simple, this is among the easiest and most straightforward, something you can actually consider making on a weeknight (especially if you’re an experienced cook and can brown the chicken and make the sauce at the same time). To be entirely authentic—or, at least, more authentic, since true authenticity is never really possible north of the border—you should roast most of the sauce ingredients before combining them in the skillet. Toast the almonds in a dry skillet, shaking occasionally, until fragrant; heat the peeled garlic in a dry skillet until lightly browned; roast the onions and tomatoes in a hot oven until blistered; and so on, right down to toasting and grinding fresh whole spices. (In fact, old-style cooks brown unblanched almonds and then peel them.) All of this does make a difference, and if you have the time, please try it. Believe me, though, the mole will be sensational without these steps. If you’ve never cooked with lard, have no fear: It has less saturated fat than butter and is still sold in virtually every supermarket. It remains a wonderful cooking fat. Serve with rice or Arroz a la Mexicana (page 517).

There are as many green sauces in the world as there are red ones, and this is one of my favorites. Fresh tomatillos are best for this dish, and those, like pepitas (pumpkin seeds) are increasingly easy to find. Though it’s probably at its best with Arroz a la Mexicana (page 517), you can serve this with almost any rice dish.

It’s still rare to see boneless chicken breasts in Italy, probably because people understand how difficult it is to keep them from drying out. The simplest solution is to leave them on the bone, which helps retain moisture (and, arguably, makes for a nicer presentation). This is a nice, simple, fast stovetop braise, especially pleasant in spring and fall. (The first variation, which uses boneless breasts, is even faster.) Fresh herbs are a must. Serve with plain white rice or—even better, of course—any risotto (pages 521–522).

Groundnut (peanut) stew is savory, sweet, and rich. Its origins are in West Africa, where it remains a staple, but you see it in the Caribbean and even occasionally in the American South too. Traditionally made with raw African groundnuts,which are smaller than American peanuts, it is commonly made with peanut butter now. For a true West African experience, serve this with Foo Foo (page 473).

Little more than chicken braised with onions but with a couple of “secret” ingredients. The first is a lot of saffron. Saffron takes a bit of an initial investment (it’s $30 or more an ounce), but it lasts a very long time; I use it regularly, and an ounce lasts me years. (Of course, I usually add it in pinches; this is a more extravagant dish.) The second is preserved lemon. If you can buy this at a Middle Eastern store, you’re in luck. If you can’t, you’ll have to make your own, but it takes weeks, so this recipe requires what you might call advance planning. However, the results are great even without the lemon. Couscous (page 526) is a natural here, as is the Spicy Carrot Salad on page 191.

Dark, glazed, and bittersweet, this is another marvel of simple cooking from Southeast Asia. It takes no longer than a classic European chicken sauté, yet when you make it you will impress not only your guests but yourself. You can stop after step 2 and have a Thai-style dish, which is good, or proceed to step 3 and have one of the best Vietnamese-style chicken dishes you’ve ever tasted. Either way, serve with rice. For information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla), see page 500.

No one does grilled chicken better than in Southeast Asia, where it seems to come straight from heaven. The key ingredients were all exotic and hard to find here just ten years ago, but now you can make this routinely. Once you try it, you probably will. This is wonderful teamed with Sticky Rice (page 508) and Green Papaya Salad (page 174). But it’s fine with any rice dish and vegetable, too, because it is really a star.

The omelet remains the standby dinner for many accomplished French cooks, and it remains on the menu of many restaurants. Delicious and gorgeous, it’s a bit trickier than a frittata (page 558), but considerably faster, and nonstick pans have made it a lot more reliable. Fresh herbs are a must here; I would say butter is a must also, but I’d rather you made the omelet with olive oil than not at all. Once you learn how to do this, it will become a staple for you, and variations will be second nature. I offer a few to get you started.

From Southeast Asia via New York, a recipe based on one developed by my sometime coauthor and longtime Asian hand, Jean-Georges Vongerichten. Included here not because it is “authentic” in the true sense but because the flavor is truly Thai and it’s among the best Thai-inspired chicken recipes I know. Serve it with Sticky Rice (page 508). For information on Asian fish sauces like nam pla, see page 500.

Lemongrass has a distinctive flavor that is instantly likable and very closely associated with the cuisine of Vietnam (it’s grown and used elsewhere, especially in Southeast Asia, but nowhere quite as widely). This dish is often served on a flat bed of plain rice noodles, but I like it best over a salad, dressed with a little nuoc cham. For information on Asian fish sauces like nam pla, see page 500. Other cuts of meat you can use here: pork, cut from either the loin or the shoulder.

Of all the powerful ingredients in these burgers— lemongrass, shallots, garlic, chile, and nam pla (called nuoc mam in Vietnamese; see page 500 for information on these Asian fish sauces)—none survives the cooking as well as the lemongrass, whose distinctive scent and flavor override all the others, reducing them to bit players. Lemongrass is changed less by cooking than most seasonings, and this goes for its woody texture too, which is why you remove the tough outer layers. You can grind the tender cores with the meat instead of chopping them if you like. Serve the burgers on rolls, rice noodles, or salad. Other cuts of meat you can use here: ground beef sirloin or chuck, which may be combined with pork if you like.

Among the most mistreated and overused terms in cooking is jerked, which, at least when I had it in the central Jamaican highlands—Cockpit Country, as it’s called—is essentially a beautifully seasoned pork (or, originally, boar) shoulder slow-cooked over coals. (You cannot make a “jerked” pork tenderloin; it will simply dry out.) The distinctive flavors are nutmeg, allspice (which is called pimento in the islands), and habanero peppers. If possible, crack a nutmeg into pieces and toast about half of it in a skillet until fragrant, with about a tablespoon of allspice berries, then grind them together. If not, use dried spices as directed here. If you have a gas grill, this will be easy; but if at all possible, set up an aluminum tray of soaked wood chips over the side with the heat and replenish as necessary. If you use charcoal, use real charcoal instead of briquettes if you can. Serve this with Coconut Rice and Beans (page 516) and, if you dare, Habanero-Garlic Salsa (page 611). Other cuts of meat you can use here: bone-in chicken legs (cooking time will be considerably shorter, about 1 hour); spareribs, though not traditional, are also good.

You can make this easy mint chutney quite hot, and it still seems balanced, especially when served with a rich, flavorful meat like lamb. Heat, as aficionados know, comes in a wide variety of flavors, and what works best here is a bit of roasted fresh habanero (also called Scotch bonnet), the hottest chile you can find. But minced raw jalapeño or hot red pepper flakes are also good. No matter what you use, add a little at a time (I’d start with a quarter teaspoon if you’re using habanero) and taste repeatedly, bearing in mind that the heat of chiles can “bloom” after a few minutes. Serve this with a neutral dish like plain rice, and perhaps a cooling salad.