Pickled onions are the magic fix-it condiment in my refrigerator. You could serve me the worst dish ever, and if it had a few pickled onions on top, I’d probably say, “Hmm. Not bad.” Of course, that means that they can also take something that’s already delicious and make it spectacular. They’re a traditional partner with pibils, the banana leaf–wrapped, pit-cooked meats of the Yucatan. I particularly like them on tacos (see Cochinita Pibil Tacos with Habanero Salsa, page 95, and Tacos de Huevos, page 87), where they give an extra crunch and hit of acidity. I’ve made them all sorts of ways over the years—combining the onions with lime juice, salt, and cumin; blanching the onions first, then tossing in vinegar and Tabasco—but it wasn’t until my delightful friend Patricia Jinich turned me on to her method that I made it mine, too. Pati, who blogs at patismexicantable. com, experimented endlessly (well, sixteen batches) to find the right combination that would substitute for Yucatecan bitter orange juice before she settled on this one. It was worth it, but if you can find bitter orange (labeled naranja agria in Latin stores), use it instead of the juice/vinegar combination here.
Turn humble onions into this thrifty yet luxe pasta dinner.
Serve a thick slice for breakfast or an afternoon pick-me-up.
This pasta has some really big energy about it. It’s so extra, it’s the type of thing you should be eating in your bikini while drinking a magnum of rosé, not in Hebden Bridge (or wherever you live), but on a beach on Mykonos.
Caramelized onions, melty Gruyère, and a deeply savory broth deliver the kind of comfort that doesn’t need improving.
Reliable cabbage is cooked in the punchy sauce and then combined with store-bought baked tofu and roasted cashews for a salad that can also be eaten with rice.
This is what I call a fridge-eater recipe. The key here is getting a nice sear on the sausage and cooking the tomato down until it coats the sausage and vegetables well.
This is the type of soup that, at first glance, might seem a little…unexciting. But you’re underestimating the power of mushrooms, which do the heavy lifting.
A dash of cocoa powder adds depth and richness to the broth of this easy turkey chili.