Dairy Free

A tapa based on piquillo peppers (see page 47), which are sold in jars and cans at specialty food stores and many supermarkets and are naturals for stuffing.

Peppers and anchovies are a delicious standby appetizer, and when you use piquillos (page 47) and good anchovies (page 25)—packed in olive oil—they become even better. If you think using the garlic this way may be too strong for your tastes, simply cut a clove in half and rub the bread with it, then discard—or omit the garlic altogether.

The most exciting pissaladière I ever had was served it the open-air market in the heart of old Nice. It was baked in a wood-burning oven a few blocks away, sent to the market by bicycle, and eaten standing up or at picnic tables shaded by huge awnings. The wedges were gently sweet and intensely salty; the crust, just a half inch thick, was perfumed with the local olive oil and was perfectly browned and crisp. It was so simple—mostly just sweet onions on a wonderful crust. You can make a wonderful pissaladière at home: just be sure to cook the onions very, very slowly.

Falafel is the best known of bean fritters, and—because it’s usually made from chickpeas and/or fava beans—the best tasting. Canned chickpeas are too soft for falafel, but the recipe is pretty easy anyway; the dried beans are soaked, not cooked, and the frying is straightforward. The addition of an egg prevents the batter from falling apart, which is a common problem. It may not be strictly traditional, but it works. The little fritters are best in a huge pita, with a pile of raw vegetables, but they’re also nice served as a starter, with some greens and a little Tahini Sauce.

Farinata, which is nearly identical to the socca of Provence, is a cross between firm polenta and a primitive pizza. To me it’s the perfect no-work Mediterranean appetizer, a great thing to have in your repertoire if you want to make sure there’s something warm for guests to eat when they arrive—or if you just want to round out a pasta dinner for the family on a weeknight. Keep the pepper mill nearby when you serve the farinata; it’s best with an almost perverse amount of freshly ground black pepper. You can buy chickpea flour at health food stores, Italian markets, Middle Eastern stores, and specialty food shops.

A typical topping for crostini (and not a bad dish on its own), this hearty combination makes a great starter for a vegetarian meal. Cannellini beans are traditional here, but any white bean will work. The spread and bread may be made well in advance, but don’t combine them until just before serving.

Crostini is toast—no big deal. Yet it serves as a perfect base for dips and spreads, from Tapenade (page 604) to Fresh Tomato Salad (page 172). Good, too, with ricotta or goat cheese blended with chopped parsley or basil; tomato, country ham (like prosciutto), and olive oil; Brandade de Morue (page 56); or Canapés with Piquillo Peppers and Anchovies (page 48). Parsley or basil is always welcome as a garnish. If you’re making just a few crostini, you can use a toaster oven, but for large quantities a grill or oven works best. The toasted bread itself will keep for an hour or so; don’t top it until you’re ready or nearly ready to eat.

Although the ingredients of this great snack, which also makes a good starter, are the same as for a common marinated beef dish, this is all about process. The beef is first dried and then fried or grilled. If you live in a warm climate, you can dry the beef in the sun for a day, turning it once. To get the same effect in more temperate zones, you need an oven, which, needless to say, is easier and more reliable. To crush the coriander seeds, put them in a plastic bag and press on them with the bottom of a pot, leaning on the pot if necessary. For information on Southeast Asian fish sauces like nam pla and nuoc mam, see page 500; for information on trimming lemongrass, see page 143.

Thin, cold slices of beef in a flavorful soy sauce make a popular starter at Chinese banquets. The dish is usually served alongside other chilled meats, like Soy-Poached Chicken (page 274) and Barbecued Pork (page 373). You can also use it as a sandwich stuffing or snack on it at any time. For information on Szechwan peppercorns, see page 369.

I learned how to make “summer rolls” in a tiny village in the Mekong Delta. I was not only the only non-Vietnamese at the table; I was also the only male. My pathetic technique was laughable to my co-workers, but I quickly got the hang of it. So will you. Rice paper wrappers, sold in Asian markets, keep forever. Their flexibility is truly amazing, and the simple variation will give you an idea of the different directions in which you can go. This is just a basic outline; these rolls can be filled with infinite variations of vegetables, meat, and even fruit, so don’t worry if you don’t have one or two of the ingredients here. You can cover these with a moist towel or plastic wrap and keep them for about an hour, no longer, before serving.

The hardest part of this dish, these days, is finding fresh herring—which is astonishing, because a large percentage of the world’s supply is caught off our shores and shipped elsewhere. In the countries bordering the North Sea, however, it is celebrated, and if you can find it here—it’s in fish markets from time to time—this is a great treatment, an essential part of any smorgasbord, but also wonderful served with sour cream (“creamed herring”) and boiled potatoes. If the herring is whole, ask your fishmonger to fillet it for you.

True Ceviche (page 21) “cooks” fish by marinating it in an acidic dressing. But there is a similar dish in which the fish is simmered in boiling water first; it’s used most frequently with seafood that is tough when raw, but it’s also used—at least in this country—as a form of reassurance. It’s a bit of a cheat, but so what? There is little difference between the texture or quality of fish that has been marinated in lime and that of fish that has been cooked quickly (which is why marinating in lime is perfectly acceptable in the first place). Like all ceviche, this is a great starter.

Unlike common deviled eggs, these, usually served as a tapa, have both texture and more flavor. The shrimp and olives bring a nice saltiness to the dish, which is ideal for a picnic.

I first had this appetizer as street food, near a market in Bangkok. The combination of raw ingredients normally used as flavoring agents for cooked dishes was intriguing and refreshing. The betel leaf used to hold everything together gave an additional bite to the dish. Betel leaves are impossible to find here, but the dish remains delicious with spinach leaves or even lettuce. If you’re not familiar with Thai fish sauce (nam pla), see page 500. You put it all together at the table, so it’s kind of fun. Serve this as the start to any meal featuring other food from Southeast Asia.

Compare this recipe, which is usually served cold as a panchan (small appetizer or side dish), with the Japanese version on page 184, and you’ll have a vision of the difference between Japanese and Korean cooking, which are closely linked and starkly different at the same time.

This stuff is great, and I have never tasted it in this country except in my own kitchen. I first had it in Turkey, where it was quite spicy, but have since learned that it’s equally acceptable milder. Dried urpa or aleppo pepper, or hot paprika, is the ideal seasoning—a bit of bite but not overwhelming—but judicious use of hot red pepper flakes is also good. You can also omit the heat entirely. This spread can be made hours or even a day in advance. Always, however, serve it at room temperature, never cold. Serve with bread or vegetable sticks; it makes a great sandwich ingredient too.

This brilliantly colored starter is an unusual and extremely elegant way of using beets. Serve it with chips, bread, or toast or as an accompaniment to any roast poultry dish. Make this ahead of time if you can; it’s best after marinating overnight.

Its flavor bears no resemblance to real caviar, its ingredients (except for the salt) have nothing to do with caviar, but its texture—supposedly—is akin to that of caviar. If there are enough seeds in your eggplant—not necessarily a good thing—I suppose you could argue that its graininess is like that of caviar. In any case, it’s a wonderful spread for Crostini (page 41), as a dip for fresh vegetables, or as a stuffing for roasted peppers or tomatoes (pages 492).

You are served this everywhere in Istanbul and everywhere told this story: the dish is so delicious that the imam or priest to whom it was served simply fainted—“bayildi.” (Some people say he was so very thrifty that he fainted at the profligate amount of olive oil used, but since olive oil is no longer especially expensive—and a half cup is not that much, after all—you can enjoy this dish without guilt.) As is almost always the case, the small, light-skinned “Japanese” eggplants work best because they lack the bitterness common to larger eggplants. If you cannot get those, use the smallest eggplants you can find. This dish is always served at room temperature (or cold), so make it ahead of time.

Like most other bean preparations, this is far better with beans you cook yourself than with canned (frozen beans, now available at many supermarkets, fall somewhere in the middle). But even with canned beans, it is so much better than commercially made bean dip you may never go back. If you cook the beans yourself, start with the recipe for Black Beans with Garlic and Cumin (you can cook red beans this way too), page 438, and cook them until they are quite soft. Reserve the cooking liquid. Serve with tortilla chips, toasted pita bread (not a traditional combination but a good one), or raw vegetables.