Mushroom

This is the way the rest of my family makes of wonton soup. When I make this for myself, I use vegetable broth and sauté a cup of cabbage to use instead of the pork. I also like to whisk in a beaten egg before the wontons go in for my own version of egg drop–wonton soup.

Even the thought of making yeast breads can be intimidating, but this recipe is pretty simple and always works. Because of the oil in the dough and all of the toppings, the dough can take a lot of abuse without being a problem. I top the focaccia with whatever we happen to have on hand. It’s also great with sliced tomatoes, garlic, thyme, or mozzarella. This is one of those recipes for which the possibilities truly are endless.

Earthy and well-seasoned, this filling features char siu pork and shiitake mushrooms. The five-spice power adds sweet perfume, while the dried shrimp injects a note of the sea. Feel free to vary this filling by substituting a combination of chopped raw pork and shrimp for the roasted pork below.

Cantonese deep-fried sticky rice dumplings can be filled many ways, but there is usually chopped rehydrated shiitake mushroom and a little chopped dried shrimp for savory oomph. With those two ingredients in this vegetable-laden alternative, you won’t miss the meat.

Chinese cooks use rice sheets as wrappers for not only shrimp and beef, but also tasty stir-fries like this one. The chicken and vegetable mixture here could be used as a filling for deep-fried spring rolls, but it is also wonderful in this delicate treatment: encased in rice sheets and steamed. The chicken and vegetables are cut into matchsticks to complement the shape of the oll. To cut the chicken, freeze it first for 5 to 10 minutes, slice it, and then stack the slices and slice again into thick matchsticks. Pork tenderloin or beef flank can be substituted for the chicken. For a vegetarian version, replace the chicken with 2/3 cup packed shredded bamboo shoots (boil for 1 minute first to eliminate the tinny flavor) and decrease the cornstarch to 2 teaspoons.

Many Chiu Chow people migrated from mainland China to Southeast Asia, particularly to the Malay Peninsula. That is why you will find Chiu Chow dumplings among the hawker street food offerings in places like Penang. Along with the regular version in the preceding recipe, there is usually a vegetarian option. Chai kuih (literally “vegetable cake”) can be flavored with dried shrimp and oyster sauce, or it can be totally vegetarian. I have presented the latter, though you can certainly add the other seasonings if you wish. The mushroom soaking liquid adds savory depth to this jewel-like filling, so remember to save it after rehydrating the shiitakes.

When you buy stuffed buns in Asia, there is usually a vegetarian option that features vegetables and pressed tofu. The fragrant, tasty filling is delightful and satisfying enough to please meat lovers. While you can feature just one vegetable, such as a leafy green, I like to create a varied filling that’s full of surprising textures and flavors. It’s important to cut the vegetables and pressed tofu into small, thin pieces so that the cooked filling is easy to measure and wrap up in the dough.

Many Asian cooks have incorporated Chinese spring rolls into their repertoires, but those of Filipino descent have embraced the rolls with the most zeal and flair. Derived from lūnpiá, a term from the Fujian (Hokkien) Chinese dialect, lumpia are one of the quintessential foods of the Philippines. In fact, I’ve seldom been to a Filipino celebration where there isn’t a platter of crisp lumpia, whether it be large ones like these or the diminutive finger-size lumpia Shanghai, which is obviously named after its Chinese parent. Banana-filled lumpia is a deliciously popular sweet snack called turon (page 194). Unfried lumpia sariwa are made by rolling up a lettuce leaf and filling of vegetables and meat in a spring roll skin. Fillings for fried lumpia vary from cook to cook, but they often have trademark Filipino touches, such as lots of fried garlic and onion. Simply seasoned, the meat (pork, chicken, or beef), shrimp, and vegetable mixture is precooked but not bound by cornstarch. Thinly sliced green beans are particularly pretty in the rolls and a touch of patis (fish sauce) adds another Filipino note. Vinegar is a favorite seasoning in the Philippines, so it’s apropos to dip the finished rolls in a tangy soy and garlic sauce. But if you’d like extra tropical flair, dunk the rolls in the Sweet and Sour Sauce on page 217 made with pineapple juice, ginger, and chile.

There are numerous fillings for fried spring rolls, and this one is my take on an old-fashioned Shanghai filling. The surf-and-turf combination of pork and shrimp is punctuated by earthy bamboo shoots and shiitake mushrooms. Whereas the Cantonese filling on page 79 is savory-sweet (and can be used here), this filling is more robust and offers wonderful depth, so much so that dunking them in a touch of vinegar is all you need to create a wonderful mouthful. Most spring roll fillings are cooked first because the frying is fast, and you want to ensure that the meat is cooked and that there’s a minimum of moisture, so the skins don’t soften up too much as they sit once out of the fryer. When preparing this and other similar fillings, cut the main ingredients so that they match in size and roll up well. I typically buy pork tenderloin steaks and freeze them for 10 to 15 minutes to make them easier to cut. Canned bamboo shoots work well so long as they first are boiled briefly to eliminate any tinny flavor. Spring rolls are great as a snack but also terrific for a light lunch along with a green salad.

These open-faced dumplings are a requisite part of the Cantonese dim sum repertoire. In contrast to their dainty size and frilly edge, shāomai (siu mai in Cantonese) are packed with a pork filling that’s typically punctuated by earthy mushrooms and crunchy water chestnuts. The dumplings here are made from thin wonton skins that have been cut into circles. Don’t confuse them with the Jiangnan version from the area between Shanghai and Nanjing, which is made from hot-water dough wrappers and filled with a sticky rice mixture. Both go by the name shāomai, which literally means “cook and sell,” reflecting their perennial popularity. Feel free to add chopped raw shrimp to the filling (cut back on the vegetables) for variety. Any of the wonton fillings can be used, too; but do remember to double the pork and shrimp filling on page 41 or quadruple the shrimp filling on page 70, adding a beaten egg white in each case to insure a smoother texture. The shape of siu mai enables them to hold a lot more filling than other dumplings of the same size.

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.

Wild mushrooms abound in the mountains of northern Greece, and like everywhere else in the world where wild mushrooms grow, they make their seasonal appearance in stewpots throughout the region. Much to the surprise of many nonresidents, pasta is very common in Greece, too.

The ingredients in this simple vegetable stew are made to order for the long, slow heat of the communal oven or the slow cooker. Flavors meld, juices blend together, and the whole thing is a fragrant, pleasurable afternoon’s work.

Most split pea soup recipes are ridiculously predictable. Some onion, a bit of carrot, maybe some cut-up spuds. A ham hock. Inevitably, split peas are the main attraction, usually cooked to a mushy consistency. But I was looking for texture and additional flavor, so I added some dried chanterelle mushrooms; half an onion, thinly sliced well browned; some chopped tomatoes; fresh celery leaves; carrots; and spinach. I considered adding liquid smoke because the ham hock was out. But as luck would have it, one of my wooden spoons caught on fire, so I let it burn, then put out the fire and stuck the charred spoon in the soup. If a winemaker can use charred oak to enhance flavors of her wine, then why can’t I use charred wood for that desired essence of smoke in my soup? (P.S. DO NOT try this at home! Using a smoked salt should achieve similar effects without the fire!)

It’s delicious. It’s typical of the kind of peasant soup you might find in a mountainous region where barley grows plentifully, and mushrooms are to be had in season. And best of all, it’s a put-the-stuff-in-the-pot-and-walkaway-from-it no-brainer.

For most of us, the mention of lasagna conjures up mouthwatering images of rich tomato sauce layered with rich cheeses and thin noodles. But a type of lasagna can also be made using polenta rather than pasta. In this polenta lasagna, the old familiar formula appears, but the packaging (polenta instead of lasagna noodles) is new. I recommend making the tomato sauce a day ahead of time, and possibly having two slow cookers on hand so that you can pour the polenta quickly from one into the other.

Amarillo means “yellow” in Spanish, and it is also the name of one of the seven classic moles, or sauces, from Oaxaca, known as “The Land of Seven Moles.” Though far from yellow (it’s more of a brick red), it can be used as a base for a delicious and very spicy vegetable stew that can stand alone or be served over rice to cut its heat.

While I was playing around with salad ideas in my head, my good buddy Elliot happened to email me asking if I’d make him a grilled-vegetable salad with a Sriracha vinaigrette. He’d been gallivanting about our local farmers’ market and forwarded to me a list of produce that had looked appealing that day. We gave it a go not long after, and I hope you do, too.

I love Asian fare, but I can also see why people stay away from it in their own kitchens. It can be a bit daunting, especially all of those veggies with exotic names that most of us didn’t grow up with and don’t have the faintest idea how to prepare. That’s a shame, because most of them have a load of body-supporting phytochemicals. Here I’ve combined two powerhouses, bok choy and shiitake mushrooms. I prefer baby bok choy, as bok choy gets more bitter as it matures.

What’s the first thing you think of when somebody says, “Let’s get Thai food”? Most of my friends have an involuntary response: they start to sweat. Many people think that Thai food is hot, hot, hot. Well, maybe not, not, not. True, some Thai food can set off smoke detectors. But real Thai cooking emphasizes distinctive flavor combinations regardless of the heat. This soup, a takeoff on traditional Thai tom kha gai (a chicken soup), uses coconut milk, which is very soothing to the nerves. The ginger aids digestion, while the lime brightens up the overall flavor. The result is a soup guaranteed to jump-start even the most jaded taste buds.