Gluten Free

If Stracciatella is egg drop soup’s less-well-known cousin, avgolemono is its neglected stepchild and it can be prepared easily, quickly, and almost effortlessly from ingredients that most of us always have on hand.

Egg Drop Soup, a cliché in American-Chinese restaurants for at least fifty years, has a less-well-known Italian counterpart called stracciatella. Both are based on the simple fact that eggs scramble or curdle in boiling water or stock, and each demonstrates the ease with which a basic dish can be transformed in spirit, moving from one cuisine to the other almost as quickly as you can change your mind about which you prefer.

Fresh peas are inestimably better than frozen for munching, but by the time you cook them and mix them with ginger, they have lost much of their advantage; if you can’t find them or deal with them—the shelling does take a while—by all means use frozen.

This Soup is on the thin, almost drinkable, side. If that doesn’t appeal to you, use sour cream, perhaps a bit more than the quantity recommended here, or throw a peeled, diced potato in with the peas, which will give the final soup quite a bit of heft.

Most of the time spent making soups like this one and the preceding Asian-Style Cucumber Soup goes to chilling: refrigerate the cucumbers as their moisture is drawn out; refrigerate the stock, yogurt, or sour cream that is their base; and, if time allows, refrigerate the soup itself so you can serve it not cool but really cold. And remember, the lively flavor of these derives largely from a load of herbs—vary them to your heart’s content, but don’t leave them out.

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.

This is my take on Senegalese chicken yassa, a rich, lemony, spicy, onion-centric dish traditionally served over rice. I've pulled way back on the peanut oil, which can make some versions of yassa too rich for my taste. In place of the oil, I built a relish around naturally rich avocados, and paired it with black-eyed peas dressed, with the advantages of a little acidity in mind, with a tangy vinaigrette.

Adapted from Chef Jim Cohen, Chef/Partner, The Empire Restaurant, Louisville, Colorado, and Pizzeria da Lupo, Boulder, Colorado This showstopper was created by Jim Cohen, who has both updated and upended tradition. Black tea? Pasilla chiles? Sweet fruit? Use ancho chiles if you can't find pasillas.

Traditionally served throughout Scandinavia as part of the smorgasbord or Christmas dinner. The apples dissolve, leaving a sweetness that is balanced by the tartness of the vinegar. To emphasize one element or the other, add either the (sweet) jelly or the (astringent) red wine. Lovely in midwinter. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: any cabbage, including white, Savoy, or Napa.

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.

The French brought ice cream to Asia, but it took the Asians to make it with ginger. I like it with a double dose, both fresh and candied. Even when made with milk, this is extremely rich ice cream, the best I know how to make. If you would like something a little lighter, add another cup of milk, half-and-half, or cream after making the custard.

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.

Tea is usually served black in Russia, with preserves. You can add milk or cream if you like. Also completely optional, but not inappropriate, is a bit of vodka, brandy, or rum.

One of the classic moles of Oaxaca, now popular throughout Mexico. Though no mole is simple, this is among the easiest and most straightforward, something you can actually consider making on a weeknight (especially if you’re an experienced cook and can brown the chicken and make the sauce at the same time). To be entirely authentic—or, at least, more authentic, since true authenticity is never really possible north of the border—you should roast most of the sauce ingredients before combining them in the skillet. Toast the almonds in a dry skillet, shaking occasionally, until fragrant; heat the peeled garlic in a dry skillet until lightly browned; roast the onions and tomatoes in a hot oven until blistered; and so on, right down to toasting and grinding fresh whole spices. (In fact, old-style cooks brown unblanched almonds and then peel them.) All of this does make a difference, and if you have the time, please try it. Believe me, though, the mole will be sensational without these steps. If you’ve never cooked with lard, have no fear: It has less saturated fat than butter and is still sold in virtually every supermarket. It remains a wonderful cooking fat. Serve with rice or Arroz a la Mexicana (page 517).

There are as many green sauces in the world as there are red ones, and this is one of my favorites. Fresh tomatillos are best for this dish, and those, like pepitas (pumpkin seeds) are increasingly easy to find. Though it’s probably at its best with Arroz a la Mexicana (page 517), you can serve this with almost any rice dish.

The name refers to “hunter’s style,” whatever that is supposed to mean. I doubt that hunters in Italy, or anywhere else, ever carried all these ingredients, but this is a traditional southern Italian dish. This is a far better version than those popularized in the sixties, which were essentially chicken with canned tomato sauce. This is great with bread, even better with a simple risotto (page 521).

A French peasant classic, popularized internationally by the great Paul Bocuse. My version is leaner; for something approaching the glorious original, see the variation. Bread is a must, with salad to follow.

A standard braised chicken, with a not-so-standard tart fruit sauce whose acidity cuts through the richness of the meat to make a dish that is always a surprising hit. The sauce can also be used with roast chicken or, for that matter, pork or turkey. Any of these can be served with Kasha (page 528) or any other simple grain dish, and a salad or vegetable.

The pairing of sweet dried-fruit sauce with poultry or pork is common not only throughout Eastern Europe but in North Africa, the Middle East, and parts of Western Europe as well. To prevent the dish from being too sweet, it’s important to add a little vinegar or lemon juice. The easiest way to “chop” dried apricots—which can be quite sticky—is with scissors. Serve with a simple pilaf (page 513).