Herbs & Spices

Killer on grilled meats, this simple herb puree is like pesto with more kick.

Chimichurri should be quite strong; you can cut back on the garlic and/or the red pepper, but it won’t be the same. Try it at least once at full strength; you’ll be surprised by how much the freshness of the parsley keeps everything in perspective, especially when served with meat, which it usually is.

The classic custard of Spain, widely made throughout Latin America, is like crème brûlée, but upside down and lighter. Like any custard, it must not be overcooked. The center must be quite jiggly when you remove it from the oven—for beginners, this is a leap of faith, but it’s the only way to keep the custard smooth.

Crème brûlée may seem mysterious, but it is actually quite straightforward and simple. Just remember two things: One, like almost all custards, this one is done before it appears to be; remove it from the oven when it is still jiggly. And two, brûlée means “burnt,” not browned. It’s important that some of the topping blacken; the best tastes of campfire-toasted marshmallows. Chefs, and many devoted home cooks, use a propane torch to melt and brown the sugar in the final step. If you have one lying around, give it a shot—just hold the flame so it touches the sugar, which will react quickly. Move the flame around so it touches all of the sugar; when the melted sugar begins to blacken, it’s done.

Panna cotta is a no-brainer, sweetened cream thickened with gelatin. It has long been made with whatever dairy is around, and I think it’s far better when a certain amount of the cream is replaced by buttermilk. The result is more complex and not so stultifyingly rich.

A recipe from my friend Sumana Chatterjee, whose family lives in Calcutta. The ingredient list, obviously, could not be shorter, but don’t be deceived: This is a labor-intensive dish, best made on a cool day (we made it on a hot one and lost about five pounds each) when you are going to be in the kitchen for a long time. Having said that, it is wonderful stuff, creamy and delicious, representative of the scores of different milk desserts made throughout India.

A lovely yellow rice pudding, with the exotic flavor of saffron; interestingly, it’s dairy free. Use cinnamon or cardamom in addition to (or in place of) the rose water (available in small bottles at Middle Eastern stores) if you like.

These sticky, sweet dumplings, which are easier to produce than most savory dumplings, are served at New Year’s festivities throughout East and Southeast Asia. Palm sugar and glutinous rice flour can be found at most Asian markets.

Soufflés are far easier than most of us have been led to believe, and, surprisingly, they’re quite flexible; with the exception of whisking and folding in the egg whites, they can be prepared several hours in advance. You may, of course, make the soufflé with vanilla extract instead of a vanilla bean. The difference is real but subtle.

This is what I think of as real coffee cake—not extraordinarily sweet and for some people not even a dessert. If you want it more cakelike, double the sugar in the dough and consider adding a couple more tablespoons of butter. But this is wonderful with a cup of coffee in the afternoon or toasted, with a little butter, in the morning. With the food processor, this dough becomes quite quick to make; just keep the processing to a minimum. You want to avoid building up the gluten in the flour so it doesn’t become tough. If you don’t feel like braiding the dough (it really is fun, though, and takes only a few extra minutes), by all means bake this in a loaf pan.

A delicious buttery northern European specialty whose name derives from its rough texture. For the best possible flavor, toast and grind fresh spices. If you have whole cardamom, remove the seeds from the pods by crushing the pods lightly with the side of a knife (discard the hulls). Then combine them with a bit of cinnamon stick and a small piece of nutmeg in a small dry skillet and toast over medium heat, shaking the pan frequently until the mixture is aromatic. Grind well, then combine with the ginger.

If you’re tempted to replace the butter or heavy cream in this recipe, don’t; just make plain old pain perdu, or French toast. But if you’re ready for the creamiest, most custardy French toast you’ve ever tried, give these babies a go. This recipe comes courtesy of Jose Andres, a Washington, D.C.–based Spanish chef and good friend.

If you want to impress your guests with minimalism, here’s the ticket: a crust with a little sweetened cream on it. Ridiculously simple but—like a simple sugar cookie—enormously enjoyable. And be assured that this and the variation are traditional recipes. This is best with good, thick heavy cream, not ultrapasteurized. It’s worth a trip to a nearby farm or farmers’ market if that’s possible.

In the world of fresh pastry, few things are quicker than churros, the crisp, crullerlike strips of fried dough that are still popular in Spain, where they originated, but perhaps even more so in Mexico. In fact, there are few breakfast or last-minute late-night snacks that can match a batch of churros. Churros served at restaurants can be awful because they’re fried in stale oil and made in advance. But make them fresh once, for breakfast or dessert (ideally, you’ll serve them with Chocolate Español, page 665, or Mexican Hot Chocolate, page 664) and you will have a reliable addition to your repertoire.

Loukoumades are served across Greece and Cyprus, with a wide range of garnishes. I’ve suggested honey and cinnamon because they’re a simple, delicious, and authentic combination. But you could add a sprinkling of chopped pistachios or a dusting of confectioners’ sugar or even substitute the syrup used in making Baklava (page 628) for the honey.

These can be produced, if you like, with lard or (more likely) butter, but this is an ancient recipe from southern Spain and probably was originally made with olive oil. Terrific with sherry or coffee.

This dish contains a lot of flavors, but one distinguishes Indonesian cooking from almost every other: dried shrimp. These tiny crustaceans can be bought at most Asian markets and need only be soaked in hot water for a few minutes before use. (There’s also a shrimp paste, which requires no soaking; you can use this instead.) But, like nam pla—Southeast Asian fish sauce—dried shrimp are an acquired taste for many people. I like them, but I’ve also made this successfully without them when I fear guests will balk. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: I’ve never seen this without green beans, but certainly you could substitute any root vegetable for the carrot and zucchini or any other summer squash for the eggplant.

In their simplest form, quesadillas are warm corn tortillas encasing spicy melted cheese, but the basic construction simply begs to be built upon. See the variations and keep in mind that the possibilities are endless—take advantage of what you have in the refrigerator or garden. Fresh corn tortillas are best, but flour ones are acceptable. You may dry-sauté the quesadillas, with no oil, in a nonstick or well-seasoned cast-iron skillet.

Ratatouille calls for a fairly specific list of vegetables: eggplant, tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, and usually onions. These are cooked slowly, together, with a lot of olive oil and some garlic. The dish is finished with fresh basil; how could it be bad? Needless to say, ratatouille is best in midsummer, when the vegetables are at their peak. It can be served hot or at room temperature and is delicious both ways. It’s especially good with grilled sausage.

The most difficult part of making negima, the popular Japanese appetizer in which meat is wrapped around scallions or chives, is slicing the meat thin enough. You can ask your butcher for ultra-thin-cut sirloin, and you might get it, but it’s probably easier to use pork, chicken, or veal, all of which are regularly sold as thin cutlets. With a little gentle pounding, they’re thin enough, and the process becomes easy.