Vegetarian

I like gazpacho, but the ultimate minimalist version—take a few tomatoes, a red pepper, some onion, oil, and vinegar, and whiz it in a blender—doesn’t always cut it for me. When I confessed this to my friend and sometime co-author Jean-Georges Vongerichten, he suggested I abandon tradition entirely and combine tomatoes with another fruit of the season: cantaloupe. These, combined with basil and lemon—in place of vinegar—produce the mildest, most delicious, creamiest gazpacho I’ve ever tasted. Make sure to use ripe cantaloupe and tomato at the height of the summer for the best results.

Good tomatoes are bursting with potential. The difference between consuming a tomato out of hand and slicing it, then sprinkling it with a pinch of salt and a few drops of olive oil, is the difference between a snack and a dish. And the great thing about tomatoes is that it takes so little to convert them from one to the other. In this instance—though not always—peeling and seeding the tomatoes is worth the effort. To do so, bring a pot of water to a boil. Meanwhile, cut a small X on the smooth (flower) end of each tomato. Drop them into the boiling water. In about thirty seconds, you’ll see the skin begin to loosen. Immediately remove from the boiling water and plunge into a bowl of ice water. When they’re cool, peel, then cut them in half through their equator. Squeeze and shake out the seeds. (For best flavor, do this over a strainer and recombine the reserved juices with the pulp.) Use fresh thyme (1 teaspoon), dill (1 tablespoon), basil (1/4 cup), parsley (1/4 cup), chervil (1 tablespoon), chives (1/4 cup), or a mixture of herbs to make this even better; garnish with fresh herbs, too, if you like.

“Real” Miso Soup is a little more complicated than this quick version, which begins with dashi, a basic Japanese stock made with kelp (kombu) and flakes of dried bonito (a relative of tuna). Although dashi has definite character and is easy enough to make, it is a light stock, pretty much overpowered by the miso anyway. So I just whisk or blend a tablespoon of miso into a cup of water and put my energy into turning the soup into a meal, adding cubed tofu and a couple of vegetables at the last moment. If you don’t find tofu alluring, you might throw some shrimp or boneless chicken into the soup, where either will cook in a couple of minutes. The only trick lies in getting the miso to dissolve properly, creating a smooth, almost creamy soup rather than a lumpy one. But this is in fact a snap: you just whisk or blend the miso with a few tablespoons of hot water before adding the rest of the liquid. Any cooking from that point on must be gentle to preserve the miso’s flavor and aroma.

In Verona, Italy, you can buy bags of I baci di Romeo e Giulietta—chocolate and almond cookies honoring Shakespeare's mythical, star-crossed lovers. I prefer to sandwich these two types of cookies together by sealing the "sighs" and "kisses" with a sweet filling. You will need two sets of mixer bowls and paddle attachments for this recipe.

We love to laze about in our pj's over a big breakfast, but we love it even more if our jeans still zip when we get dressed. That's why we're wild about these yummy yet healthy cakes, created by SELF contributing experts stephanie Clarke, R.D., and Willow Jarosh, R.D. These beauts pack whole grains for energy, plus fruit for extra tang. Pass the maple syrup! —Lindsey Palmer

There is nothing like a simply cooked dish of eggplant, one of the world’s most beloved vegetables and one that several cuisines—Italian, Turkish, and Indian, most notably—treat with near reverence.

This sauce is lovely layered with tomatoes or cucumbers. Thinned with more water, oil, or yogurt, it also makes a great salad dressing. You can buy canned or bottled tahini—ground sesame seed paste—at any Middle Eastern or health food store.

I like this one quite sweet, but you can eliminate the sugar entirely if you prefer. Add a little vodka if you’re in the mood.

The perfect poached egg isn’t easy to achieve, and it’s unlikely you’ll produce one on your first try. Patience. If you want to get good at it, sacrifice a dozen or two and practice. Or don’t worry so much; a ragged-looking poached egg tastes just as good as a lovely one. Just don’t overcook.

Few people hard-cook eggs correctly (and I myself have changed my technique about five times in the last thirty years, though I do think this is it). For one thing, they should not be boiled. For another, they should not be overcooked. Here’s how.

Eggs are a significant source of protein in India, and when you eat a lot of eggs you look for ways to vary them. This is a standard preparation and a great one for lunch, a late supper, or for those who like really savory breakfasts. They’re also made as street food, which is how I first had them—prepared at a cart and eaten from a paper plate standing up (and, in a hurry, in the back of a car). In India, these eggs might have cooked lentils (Dal, page 433), black-eyed peas (page 434), or cooked shredded potatoes stirred into them.

In a largely vegetarian country, eggs take on more importance than they have traditionally in the States. Indians eat eggs in a variety of interesting ways and at all meals. Here they’re hard-cooked, simmered in a spicy tomato sauce, and served as a main course. It’s a great, easy, and inexpensive weeknight dish. Serve with Pilaf (page 513) or another rice preparation.

As long as you are not a person who eats only sweets for breakfast, there is nothing more satisfying than huevos rancheros, the original “breakfast burrito.” Since you finish the dish in the oven, you can prepare all but the eggs ahead of time, which makes it a great brunch dish when you have guests; the recipe is easily doubled or even tripled.

Shirred eggs with a spicy sauce make a great brunch dish. Serve with toast or Arroz a la Mexicana (page 517).

Perhaps the most commonly seen tapa of all, this is a dish I have loved eating (and making) since I first visited Spain more than twenty years ago. Don’t be put off by the large quantity of olive oil; much of it will be poured off (and will have a lovely taste, so you can use it for sautéing; refrigerate in the meantime).

The omelet remains the standby dinner for many accomplished French cooks, and it remains on the menu of many restaurants. Delicious and gorgeous, it’s a bit trickier than a frittata (page 558), but considerably faster, and nonstick pans have made it a lot more reliable. Fresh herbs are a must here; I would say butter is a must also, but I’d rather you made the omelet with olive oil than not at all. Once you learn how to do this, it will become a staple for you, and variations will be second nature. I offer a few to get you started.

A simple and basic artichoke recipe that may well become your default method. The acidity of the white wine keeps the artichokes nice and green and also contrasts nicely but not too jarringly with their mild flavor. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: Not all vegetables take to white wine, but many do, especially those with a little sweetness. Think carrots, beets, sweet potatoes, and winter squash.

Plain vinaigrette is lovely over steamed vegetables (or poached or grilled fish for that matter), but gribiche surpasses it. Just the thought of this bistro classic makes my mouth water. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: any vegetable you can steam and sauce—potatoes, broccoli, and carrots, for example.

Like all dried beans, chickpeas are far better when you cook them yourself than when you simply open a can. But unlike lentils, split peas, and even to some extent white and red beans, you must plan ahead to use chickpeas in other dishes. Overnight soaking reduces the cooking time somewhat, as does a quick boil and a shorter soak; but mostly the cooking takes time, unless you use a pressure cooker. Once done, chickpeas can be stored in their cooking liquid (this is another unusual aspect of chickpeas; their cooking liquid is delicious), covered and refrigerated, for a few days or frozen indefinitely. Other legumes you can prepare this way: this procedure can be followed for any legume, but most will cook faster than the chickpeas.

Soy-glazed black beans are a common panchan—little side dish—in Korea, but they’re also served in Japan; in both countries they’re usually served at room temperature. They are about as far from the cumin- and garlic-laced black beans of Mexico (see page 438) as they could be. In Asia, they’re made with black soybeans, which are larger and rounder than the more common black (“turtle”) beans you see everywhere. But you can use either. Serve this as if it were a little salad, with any Korean or Japanese cooked dish.