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The definition of a classic Niçoise salad is often contested, especially now that it is so popular at cafés and restaurants. It is, however, essentially a country salad, so the ingredients depend on what is in season. The basics of this rough country salad are lettuce, hard cooked eggs, anchovy fillets, black olives, tomatoes, and garlic in the dressing. Most people add tuna, too, but you can consider it optional. Among the myriad other possible additions are cooked green beans, potatoes, and artichoke hearts, raw or roasted bell pepper, capers, and basil.

This is a warm salad, combining a wide range of textures and flavors, great as a light lunch or a starter for any Asian meal. Although you can buy packaged fried tofu at many Asian markets—and that is undeniably convenient—it is much better homemade. Just be sure to remove as much of the water as you can, by firmly pressing the tofu between paper towels as detailed on page 491. For information on shrimp paste, see page 9; for information on nam pla, see page 500.

Tofu is often, perhaps even usually, eaten as part of a vegetarian meal, but it’s also delicious when paired with shrimp or pork. This dish has some of the flavors and textures of Tod Mun (page 83), but the tofu adds a smooth texture and subtle flavor. For information on fish sauces like nam pla, see page 500. Serve this as an appetizer or as one of the centerpieces of a larger Asian meal. Use all shrimp if you like or substitute other meat for the pork.

If you’re a tofu fan, chances are you’re always on the lookout for ways to spice it up. This is one of the best. For a meatier texture, use the technique in step 1 of the previous recipe. For a bigger stir-fry, add some vegetables—red bell peppers are nice. Salted black beans are sold in supermarkets and in every Chinese store. They’re almost always soaked before being used.

A beauty—mild, soothing, and delicious. Be sure to use waxy (“new”) potatoes, which will not fall apart. As with the other tarts in this chapter, this is best warm or at room temperature and may be prepared without any crust at all. If you’re using a crust, the recipe will take less time if you have a premade crust.

Stir-fried vegetables are almost as common in Southeast Asia as they are in China, and even the spices are similar. But the addition of dried shrimp and the use of nam pla are dead giveaways that this dish is from Indochina. It’s usually made on the fiery side, so feel free to increase the chiles if you like. Information on fish sauces like nam pla is on page 500. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: Green beans, parboiled broccoli or cauliflower, or a mixture of onions and peppers. All will take a little longer than fast-cooking watercress.

This classic combination of beans and tuna is great when made with white beans that have been cooked with garlic and other spices, like White Beans with Garlic (page 441). If you use bland or canned or frozen beans, jack up the seasonings here; add, for example, a bit of garlic, some fresh thyme, and/or a little cayenne. A great picnic recipe, this can be made well in advance; note the green bean and salami variations, which are also good. Any of these salads would be great toppings for Crostini (page 41) as well.

If you’re going to the trouble of making dosa—all the soaking, pureeing, and overnight resting—it’s sensible to make the amount called for in the preceding recipe (plus it’s not like 4 cups of rice and 1 cup of dal cost much more than half those amounts). But it’s unlikely you’ll have the griddle stamina or appetite to make it through all that batter. Hence, uttapam—a fancy version of dosa. These are perfect for lunch—I usually fry a couple and eat them with whatever leftovers there are from the dosa meal the night before. And although it might be untraditional, I season them with a pinch of chaat masala (page 594), but feel free to omit it if it doesn’t appeal or you don’t have it on hand. If you’re using a pancake griddle, you should be able to cook two uttapam at a time; or you could have two nonstick griddles going at the same time.

Traditionally, these were made as small pies and rolled up after baking (the dough is not cooked crisp but left soft like a pita); you might make twelve or even more from this recipe. Now, to make them look more familiar to visitors from other parts of the world, lahmacun are often made as large pizzas, which you can do if you prefer.

There are two keys to this salad. The first is buying dry, pressed tofu (bean curd), which is sold at most Asian food markets and some natural food stores. It’s much firmer than regular tofu and has a dense, chewy texture and a brown skin. (If you can’t find it, use extra-firm tofu and press it yourself; see page 491.) The second key is allowing the salad to marinate long enough for the tofu to absorb the dressing. That part’s easy, but it does require advance planning.

In southern Italy, where the flatbread called pizza originated, it was traditionally kept very, very simple, topped with as little as salt, olive oil, and rosemary or a few tomato slices and a bit of fresh mozzarella. Now, of course, you see American-style pizzas on the streets of Rome. The recipes here, then, are a bit of a throwback—very simple and very real. Even simpler if you use a food processor; you can knead the dough by hand, of course, if that’s your preference, but the machine is far easier and more efficient and, in fact, does a better job, at least for most of us. Be sure to see the recipes for Pissaladière (page 45) and Tarte Flambé (page 44), both of which are based on this dough.

In many southern Italian homes, this is daily bread, the closest thing to the prototypical pizza. I vividly remember the first time I tasted it (in Rome)—it blew my mind. Please try it. Not only is it delicious, but it’s the launching pad for making any other pizza you like (see the variations for a couple of ideas). For this to be most successful, your oven should be equipped with a pizza stone, and you should make the dough directly on a peel. However, it’s almost as good on a baking sheet, and I give directions for both.

What’s different about this pizza is the inclusion of semolina flour in the crust and bread crumbs on the top, which makes the pie slightly crunchy. Nevertheless, the large quantity of onions (consider using a food processor to slice them) produces a distinctively sweet pizza. This is a large recipe; you can halve it or make it for a party.

Crunchy, mildly sweet, and lightly spicy, this is a lovely little salad I learned in Kyoto. If you can find myoga—a lily root that looks something like garlic and is sold at some Asian markets—use it instead of the onion. Like onion, it’s spicy and peppery; unlike onion, if you eat too much of it, you forget everything— or so I was told.

It’s no secret that people eat leftover pasta, but this is a time-honored way to turn it into something else. It’s so good that you might find yourself cooking extra pasta just so you have an excuse to make this. As with any other frittata, you can add what you like here. It might be a bit of pancetta or bacon, but it can also be a bit of cooked vegetable or something as simple as minced scallion or parsley.

A dish I learned from my good friend Andrea, who is originally from Rome but has collected unusual pasta dishes from all over Italy. This is clearly a peasant dish, but the presence of sausage, butter, and cream makes it special enough for guests. Use well-seasoned “Italian” sausage; it can be hot if you like. That made without casing—in patties or bulk—will save you a step.

This is a dark pasta sauce served in much of Italy, made with stewed, shredded meat. I like to make it with duck legs, though you could use rabbit, pork—cut from the ribs or shoulder—or even the dark meat of a good chicken (hardest to find). The meat must first be braised in red wine or, even simpler, cooked in its own fat as I do here. That’s the only time-consuming part of the process, and it may be done a day or more in advance. (Refrigerate both meat and juices if you complete this step more than an hour or two before proceeding.) Sharp pecorino Romano is a better choice of cheese than Parmesan here, though chopped parsley also makes a good garnish.

A pasta dish kids love and one that became traditional with mine whenever we left them with a sitter for the evening. It’s best if the ham is prosciutto, the cream thick and fresh, and the peas just shelled, but it’s pretty good with supermarket ham and cream and frozen peas, and I’ve made it that way plenty of times. For variety, add about a cup of sliced button mushrooms to the ham mixture.

A deliciously strong pasta dish, taught to me (as were so many others) by my friend Andrea. See page 546 for information on guanciale. Frankly, I can barely write this recipe without rushing off to the stove.

One of those wonderful from-the-pantry pasta dishes that can be prepared in the time it takes to boil the water and cook the pasta. Canned tuna is not only acceptable but necessary; but the ideal tuna here would be that taken from the tuna’s belly, the fattiest part, and cured (preferably by your Sicilian grandmother) in great olive oil. Assuming you don’t have that, buy tuna packed in olive oil from Italy or Spain. (In a serious specialty store, you might find belly tuna—probably labeled ventresca—packed in olive oil. It’s dynamite.) What you’re looking for is dark, soft meat that will flake nicely and add its rich flavor to the sauce.