Dairy Free

Leeks have an alluring, herbaceous flavor unlike any other allium, and this simple salad is a great way to show it off. With slight adjustments in cooking time and quantity of vinaigrette you could substitute scallions, ramps, or, for that matter, shallots or pearl onions.

A simple little thing (the hardest part is cleaning the leeks) but delicious. The sweetness of the carrots really comes through, and the reserved olive oil adds a nice touch. Good with sautéed or roast poultry or meats. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: Belgian endive (cut in half the long way), bok choy, and chard are all good.

You find this dish, or one like it, everywhere there is salt cod—which is to say, almost everywhere in the North Atlantic and parts of the Mediterranean. I like the Spanish version, which is reminiscent of a strong pasta sauce. In fact, thinned just a bit, this would make an excellent sauce for pasta, though I still prefer it with crusty bread. You can poach almost any fish in this sauce—any white-fleshed fish will work, though cod is the most obvious and logical choice—but it will never have the character brought to the table by salt cod, especially if you take the time to fry it first, as in the variation.

Like so many other cultures that have traditionally relied on salt cod, that of the Basque region of Spain and France still cherishes the flavor. This stew is one of the region’s best-known dishes, and it’s a good one. Like most stews, it’s terrific when made a day ahead of time and reheated. Serve with rice or crusty bread or boiled potato.

Almonds grow abundantly in Spain—you see the trees throughout the South and easily find fresh almonds, which are a rarity here—and play an integral role in many dishes, offering a rich flavor and body to sauces. This dish is a perfect weeknight offering, but it’s also a fine main course at a dinner party. I like monkfish here, but striped bass, grouper, red snapper, and black sea bass are all suitable; each will cook at slightly varying rates (the monkfish will take the most time, red snapper the least). This is wonderful over either white rice or a pilaf (page 513) or with crusty bread.

Sherry, garlic, and chickpeas, a decidedly Andalusian combination of flavors, is served by itself or as a side dish with almost any cut of meat, fish, or poultry. But I like it best with cod: the subtlety and tenderness of the fish are offset wonderfully by the big, almost meaty flavors of the scented chickpeas yet are not overwhelmed by them. If you have any advance inkling at all that you’re going to be tackling this recipe, try to cook dried chickpeas for it in advance (page 431). The best sherry to use here is Amontillado, which is slightly but not overpoweringly sweet; a ten-dollar bottle of Amontillado will suffice, and since you’re only going to use about a quarter of the bottle, there will be plenty left to chill and drink. Second choices would be slightly sweeter Oloroso or drier Fino.

A lovely, flavorful, and colorful sauce with an elusive perfume that is the result of the saffron-vinegar combination. This is suitable for any firm-fleshed fish fillet. If you make the variation with the potato salad, you’d pretty much have a one-dish meal here; bread and salad would be nice additions.

An unusual preparation, though you might not think so if it included meat. I like it best with a combination of medium-sized black olives, like Kalamatas, and large green ones, particularly the type that come from Sicily, but any combination will do. A great side dish, especially with sautéed chicken, useful too as a topping for Crostini (page 41) or—thinned if necessary—as a pasta sauce. If the olives are very, very salty—only an occasional problem—parboil them in water to cover for a few minutes before starting.

Classically, meunière refers to fillets of sole that are floured and quickly sautéed in clarified butter, then finished with parsley, lemon juice, and a little melted butter. Over the years the definition has expanded to encompass a series of flexible techniques that can be applied to just about any thin cut of meat, poultry, or fish.You can serve this with a salad and bread, or with any good potato and vegetable combination. True sole is a uniquely firm fish, best replaced not by local “soles” (like gray sole or Pacific sole) but by sturdy fillets like red snapper, grouper, catfish, black-fish, or sea bass.

I like this best with shallots, which are prettier and tastier than boiling onions. Some people add raisins (about 1/4 cup, from the beginning), which does not turn me on. Others garnish with toasted pine nuts, a nice but unnecessary touch. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: almost any member of the onion family, including leeks, scallions, and any kind of onion—if the onions are large, peel and quarter them, then insert a toothpick into each quarter to hold it together during the cooking.

An easy fish stew with exotic flavors. You can make the same style dish using chicken thighs in place of the fish; just boost the oven temperature to 400°F and increase the cooking time by 15 minutes or so. This is great served with couscous (page 526), bread, or rice.

This dish is usually made with pickled or salted fish, but it’s simpler (and, in my opinion, better) when made with lightly salted fresh fish. To be truly authentic, the chile should be a Scotch bonnet (habanero), which has a distinctive though fiery flavor, but any chile will do in a pinch. Serve this with Coconut Rice (page 516) or, even better, Coconut Rice and Beans (page 516).

A small and perfectly easy dish. The finishing touch of hot sesame oil is a common garnish in Hong Kong and a nice one.

Fish tacos, long a staple of coastal Mexico (and coastal California), have become popular throughout the U.S. I prefer the fish fried, but you can grill or even steam it if you like.

Everyone who grows red peppers roasts red peppers, because it is, to use a legal term, their highest and best use. Once they’re roasted, you can include them in a variety of recipes found here and in other books, or you can sauté them with onion and tomato, include them in stews, or put them on sandwiches. Arguably, they are at their best when served at room temperature, drizzled with oil and perhaps with some capers and anchovies. (They also keep very, very well, up to a few days, refrigerated.) You can roast these, grill them, or broil them; all methods work about equally well. Obviously, if you grill over wood, you’re going to get some added (and welcome) flavors.

Like the preceding dish, this one is wickedly strong tasting, not fiery-hot but potent with garlic, onions (which are salted to “kill” their harshness), and lime. Not for the faint of heart, but many people (including me) love it. You can use any firm-fleshed white fish: halibut, swordfish, striped bass, red snapper, and so on. Ideally, you’d serve this with Mexican Radish Salad (page 172), along with some beautiful tomatoes. Rice and beans would also be good.

A sweet classic, peperonata, like many vegetable stews, is easily varied: add chunks of potato, chicken, or zucchini or some minced garlic; a small chile or a bit of cayenne is also appropriate. Serve it hot as a side dish, warm as a topping for Crostini (page 41), or cold as a relish.

This is a side dish or an appetizer, but a very quick one, since piquillos (sold in cans or jars) are already cooked. You can use freshly roasted red peppers (page 470) as a substitute, but not canned pimientos, which will fall apart (and, in most cases, are tasteless anyway). Add a few anchovy fillets along with the garlic if you like.

Limes and hot weather go together; I first had this at a three-walled restaurant in a Yucatán port on the Gulf of Mexico. I loved it immediately, and I love it still. It works just as well with shrimp as it does with flatfish. As for the chiles, the amount is your call. I like just a touch of heat—a pinch of cayenne does the trick for me—but this dish is often prepared scorchingly hot. Serve with rice (Mexican Rice, page 517, is good), or tortillas.

Strictly speaking, chimichurri is Argentinean, but there is far more salmon in Chile than elsewhere in Latin America, and chimichurri has become pan-continental. Keep the skin on the salmon (make sure it’s scaled), and making it perfectly crisp is nearly effortless as long as you use a nonstick skillet. I love this with Peasant-Style Potatoes (page 477) or Potatoes with Bay Leaves (page 481).