Caribbean

American fried chicken is almost always covered in batter or another dry coating. Elsewhere, however, chicken is often fried after a brief marinade in a sauce; the results are not as crunchy but really different and quite delicious. (Plus, fried chicken without batter keeps better.) If you want a supercrunchy fried chicken, see the previous recipe. The marinade for this Cuban version traditionally contains sour orange juice, but a mixture of orange and lime juice is a good substitute. Serve this with Arroz a la Mexicana (page 517)

Here are two versions of this delicious sweet-and-sour dish, which is prepared at roadside stands and restaurants on many Caribbean islands: Pan-cook it in the winter, grill it in the summer. Serve it with Coconut Rice and Beans (page 516).

You can make arroz con pollo, the Caribbean specialty, fast or slow. For weeknights, go with the stripped-down variation. But when you have a little time—and you don’t need much—make the full-chicken stock for extra flavor, and saffron for best color and complexity. If you don’t have stock, don’t worry too much. Since the chicken and vegetables are cooking in the liquid, the dish will taste good even if you make it with water. A few slices of tomatoes would go well here, or any salad you like. You don’t need much to round out this meal.

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

I was in a restaurant in Martinique where this sauce—which translates as “dog sauce,” for reasons I don’t want to know—was served on everything, from kidneys to chicken to vegetables. I liked it best on steak. As with so many Caribbean dishes, this would be served with Coconut Rice and Beans (page 516). Other cuts of meat you can use here: almost anything, from liver to bone-in dark-meat chicken, to pork chops or ribs.

Among the most mistreated and overused terms in cooking is jerked, which, at least when I had it in the central Jamaican highlands—Cockpit Country, as it’s called—is essentially a beautifully seasoned pork (or, originally, boar) shoulder slow-cooked over coals. (You cannot make a “jerked” pork tenderloin; it will simply dry out.) The distinctive flavors are nutmeg, allspice (which is called pimento in the islands), and habanero peppers. If possible, crack a nutmeg into pieces and toast about half of it in a skillet until fragrant, with about a tablespoon of allspice berries, then grind them together. If not, use dried spices as directed here. If you have a gas grill, this will be easy; but if at all possible, set up an aluminum tray of soaked wood chips over the side with the heat and replenish as necessary. If you use charcoal, use real charcoal instead of briquettes if you can. Serve this with Coconut Rice and Beans (page 516) and, if you dare, Habanero-Garlic Salsa (page 611). Other cuts of meat you can use here: bone-in chicken legs (cooking time will be considerably shorter, about 1 hour); spareribs, though not traditional, are also good.

This soupy rice and chicken stew is a cousin to Arroz con Pollo and Paella (pages 293 and 520), but it’s much looser, and you must eat it right away; otherwise, the rice will absorb too much of the liquid and the stew will lose its soupy texture. For the ham, it’s best to buy a thick slice and cut it into chunks; you don’t want shreds of thinly sliced ham. Very lean bacon or a piece of smoked pork will work nicely too. Some ideas for varying this dish: Don’t add the chopped tomatoes, but put them in the bottom of each bowl before adding the soup; garnish with chopped fresh avocado; add fresh lime juice, onion, or chopped fresh cilantro leaves to taste, just before serving; or serve with chopped chiles in adobo (from a can) or Tomato-Chipotle Salsa (page 611).

An international dish if ever there was one (the Philippine version is quite similar and you can find others around the globe) and one that can be spiced with as little as a rub of garlic, salt, and pepper or a little more elaborately, as is this one. Use a bone-in loin cut, from the rib (shoulder) end, or simply a boneless shoulder (picnic or butt) roast. This is the pork that is best used for Sandwich Cubano (page 363).

“Old clothes” may not sound that appetizing, but it’s one of those overcooked, funky, juicy, tender dishes you can’t stop eating (at least I can’t). And the only thing even remotely difficult about it is shredding the steaks into the ropy strands that give Ropa Vieja its fanciful name. Still, it’s not you-can-do-it-wrong difficult; it’s just a bit of an upper-body workout. You could cut the recipe in half and cook one steak, but with a dish that takes this long and keeps as well as it does (you can refrigerate it for a few days or even freeze it), I think this is a sensible amount. As a bonus, when you braise this much meat you end up with at least a quart of rich, dark beef stock, redolent of bay and cloves—perfect for cooking Arroz a la Mexicana (page 517)—which, not coincidentally, is a perfect side dish for Ropa Vieja. A couple of preparation notes: green bell peppers are a bit more traditional here, but I prefer to make Ropa Vieja with the sweeter red bell peppers. You choose. Cutting the steaks in half to make two thin steaks (hold the knife parallel to the cutting board) is a bit of a challenge, but if you freeze the steaks for about 30 minutes first, the firmer flesh will make it easier. Take your time, but don’t worry about doing too good a job—you’re going to shred the meat anyway.

The New World version of the preceding recipe, this includes Spain’s capers (which, ironically, the Spanish version usually does not) and a bit more seasoning. Once again, you can use other meat in place of oxtails and can make this in advance, then refrigerate and skim the fat. This would be great with Coconut Rice (page 516) or any rice and bean dish, and Platanos Maduros (page 472). Other cuts of meat you can use here: short ribs, lamb shanks, chunks of boneless lamb or pork shoulder (which will be much faster) or beef chuck or brisket (which will be somewhat faster), bone-in chicken thighs (much quicker).

Oven-baked ribs, which were once the standard, are now uncommon, because everyone thinks grilled ribs are the thing. But these are delicious, great with rice or polenta, and far easier than grilling. But if you like, you can use this sauce for grilling, too: parboil the ribs in water until nearly tender, then grill them, basting with the sauce, until they are nicely browned. Other cuts of meat you can use here: chunks of pork shoulder, short ribs (which will need much more time), bone-in chicken thighs (which will cook much more quickly).

A fairly complicated, lasagnelike dish and, like lasagne, perfectly homey. With advance preparation (you can make the sauce a day ahead and sauté the plantains several hours ahead), you can throw this together quickly, but even if you do it all at once you can make quick work of it. Great with a salad, this needs nothing else. Other meat you can use here: ground turkey, chicken, veal, or pork.

This dish is usually made with pickled or salted fish, but it’s simpler (and, in my opinion, better) when made with lightly salted fresh fish. To be truly authentic, the chile should be a Scotch bonnet (habanero), which has a distinctive though fiery flavor, but any chile will do in a pinch. Serve this with Coconut Rice (page 516) or, even better, Coconut Rice and Beans (page 516).

The hardest part of making these beauties is waiting for the plantains to turn black, though if you live in a neighborhood with a Latin market, you can probably buy them that way. Otherwise, buy the ripest (yellowest, with spots of black) plantains you can find and let them sit on your counter until they have turned black with no traces of yellow. To peel, cut off the tips, then cut crosswise into thirds; make a slit in the skin of each piece, then remove the skin. For Plantain and Meat Casserole (page 420), cut the plantains into thirds and then split each piece lengthwise—rather than cutting them crosswise—before sautéing.

An unusual and quite useful plantain recipe, usually associated with Cuba. Like many soups, this one can be made in advance and reheated, though you’ll probably want to add a little more lime juice just before serving for freshness. See page 623 for information on plantains.

This unusual soup is popular in the Dutch Caribbean and the island of St. Kitts, where peanuts are called—as they are in much of the world—groundnuts. Though many groundnuts have a stronger flavor than American varieties, you can use any unsalted roasted peanuts—or even peanut butter—in this rich soup.

I call this Caribbean because that’s where I first had it, but not surprisingly it’s a staple in much of Southeast Asia as well. Great with jasmine rice, it’s perfectly fine with any other short- or long-grain rice and can be varied in many ways. If you like, garnish with some chopped cashews or peanuts. I love this with spicy stews.

A staple of homes in Cuba and much of the rest of the Caribbean, where tomatoes are available year-round, this soup clearly derives from the classic Mediterranean “boiled water” (see the variation), a soup based on garlic, bread, and whatever else can be found. Despite its humble origins, this is a wonderful dish for entertaining (be sure to warn your guests that the bowls are hot!).

Powerfully delicious, this sauce is served throughout the Caribbean, often with grilled chicken but also over vegetables. Best made with the juice of sour oranges, but you won’t find those here; I use a combination of orange and lime juices.

This is the best use of leftover egg whites you’ll find. Generally, one egg white will support one cup of shredded coconut or ground nuts, but I like to be safe and use an extra egg white. You can combine nuts and coconut or use any of them alone.