Latin American

Loaded with onions and peppers and cheese, these substantial quesadillas have a lot of personality—and make great use of leftover Jalapeño-roast Pork (p. 269). Serve them with margaritas for an instant party, or simply add a green salad with orange segments and red onions for an easy week-night meal. The Ancho-Mango sauce keeps well for several days, and it will perk up any number of sandwiches.

The summer before I started cooking professionally, a friend and I spent three months on a sailboat in the Bahamas. Hey, it was tougher than it sounds! Every day we had to catch our dinner with spears, no less. If we didn’t get a fish or lobster, one thing we could always count on was finding conch. They were and are delicious, but man, are they labor-intensive, as it’s hard to extract the meat from their shells. These fritters, which are easy enough to stir together on a sailboat and are served all over the Bahamas, are so delicious that we didn’t (and you won’t) much mind the work, especially as your conch meat will already be extracted from the shell. Serve them with ice-cold beer, plenty of hot sauce (or my Cat Island Cocktail Sauce), and a creamy Lime Mayonnaise (p. 181) that will help cool the fire. And don’t be surprised if they inspire you to slip into a swimsuit and snorkel mask.

Radish and avocado are traditional Mexican toppings for tacos. Here they are combined in a salsa that can be served with tacos or as an appetizer with tortilla chips.

To serve this Mexican mainstay, ladle the hot soup into bowls, and then let everyone pick and choose from among the suggested garnishes.

Loaded with beef, crunchy texture, and heady sweet flavors, this specialty of southern Vietnam echoes Chinese mu shu pork and Malaysian and Singaporean poh piah. But instead of rolling the filling in a wheat flour–based wrapper, rice paper is used. Bò bía are traditionally made by street vendors in a to-go format that recalls a Mexican burrito. When we lived in Saigon, my sister Ha and her best friend, Loan, were addicted to the rolls. On the way home from school, my parents or our driver would take them by one of the hawkers strategically positioned on a street corner, hot wok at the ready. Hand rolls and money were exchanged through the car window, with the girls giggling as they dove into their favorite snack. Because we don’t have those wonderful street vendors here, our family makes bò bía at home as a prelude to a big meal or the focus of a light lunch. We set things up at the table for everyone to assemble his or her own rolls. Th is do-it-yourself approach is ideal because these rolls, unlike salad rolls (page 32), can be messy and should be eaten as soon as they are made.

The counterpart to Green Chile Sauce (opposite) and a darn good sauce on its own served with meat and fish. Brick red New Mexico chiles give this sauce great color and a deep roasted earthy flavor.

This sauce is wonderful served on its own, but paired with Red Chile Sauce (opposite) and served with eggs (Blue Corn Fried Eggs, page 219) or fish or pork or chicken, it becomes known as Christmas. Why? Christmas is known for its red and green colors! In New Mexico restaurant lingo (Sante Fe to be exact), Christmas means a plate of half-red and half-green chile sauces. The New Mexico terminology has spread to some other states in the Southwest, such as Arizona and Texas.

I sometimes use this full-flavored hot sauce to spice up my Crab-Coconut Cocktail (page 79). It is also wonderful drizzled over raw oysters and clams and is one of the sauces served with the raw bar selections at Bar Americain. You must use really ripe mangoes for the best possible flavor. Also, it is extremely important to be very careful when handling the habanero. We use plastic gloves when working with these super-hot chiles, but whatever you do, make sure to keep your hands away from your face (especially your eyes!) until they are absolutely clean.

A Mexican-inspired brunch is my favorite way to recover from a long night out, and this spin on huevos rancheros is how we serve it up at Bar Americain. This plate is layered with taste and texture, from the crisp, salty tortillas up to the cool and chunky guacamole on top. Savory black beans make this dish extra satisfying, while the chile sauces pump up the color—and heat. I like the slightly sweet, nutty flavor of blue corn tortillas, but if you can’t find them, yellow ones are an easy substitute.

Fish tacos originated in Mexico’s Baja California and spread up the coast to southern California. Versions featuring deep-fried fish are the most common, but I prefer to grill light, flaky red snapper for these tacos. The grill gives the fish a touch of smoky, charred flavor, which balances the fresh garnishes of tart tomatillo-avocado relish and crunchy red cabbage slaw. Cabbage is a traditional garnish for fish tacos and keeps its crunch factor long past the point when lettuce would have wilted. I make my slaw from a mix of delicate, pale green napa and deep purple red cabbages. Sweet basil may seem an unexpected choice, but its flavor complements the citrus juice in the slaw’s vinaigrette and offsets the assertive cilantro in the charred tomato salsa.

Miami! That’s where a bite of this lush crab cocktail takes me. The tropical touch of coconut milk and ripe mango enhances the natural sweetness of lump crabmeat. A good dose of lime juice and a healthy dash of habanero hot sauce keep the dish fresh, not cloying. Salty plantain chips—found at most grocery stores or Latin markets—further boost the Latin vibe.

Unknown to the majority of this country, the green chile cheeseburger is a beloved culinary treasure of New Mexico. Having been there and sampled my share, I know exactly why New Mexicans love it as they do, and that’s why I had to bring my own version to New York. With its fresh bite, the Hatch chile is a favorite in New Mexico, where there is a whole festival celebrating the hometown crop. I like to add some heat to my green chile relish with roasted serranos and use milder, peppery poblano chiles to round out the mix. Tossing the chiles with acidic red wine vinegar and vibrant cilantro ensures a nice freshness to balance the creamy, decadent cheese sauce. Add some bright color and flavor with pickled red onions and some salty crunch with blue tortilla chip crumbles, and you’ve got a burger worth serving to even the toughest New Mexico critics.

Just a few of us hung around the kitchen following a wonderful late-afternoon party at Sarah and Sam Bell Steves’s San Antonio home. Sam’s son, Tres, stopped by and we started talking margaritas. Tres broke out the family’s personalized sterling silver margarita shakers, a pretty good sign that we’d stumbled into in the hands of a margarita-making marvel. We politely asked for seconds—just to make sure. Then we asked for the recipe.

Posole is a pork-based soup that’s really a cross between a soup and a stew. Apart from the pork, the main ingredient is hominy—white corn kernels that have been soaked in lye. Many Texans profess to love posole, but I’ve always found it impossibly bland. That is, until I tried Rosa’s version, which she transformed from blah to bueno with the addition of a flavor-packed red chile sauce. Rosa, a native of Mexico City, has worked at Rather Sweet since it opened almost ten years ago. A traditional Mexican concoction, posole comes in many styles, and is often prepared on feast days or to celebrate the new year, says Rosa. Sounds like a natural party food to me. I like to serve Red Posole as a main course for an informal dinner party on a cool night. Make a big batch of guacamole (page 255) and set out bowls with all of the traditional posole accompaniments—lime wedges, thinly sliced radishes, lettuce, and green onions. Serve the posole in the Dutch oven you made it in, or seize the chance to use that old-fashioned soup tureen you inherited from Great-Aunt Belle. Decorate your serving table with a Mexican-style tablecloth or a colorful runner. Bundle cloth napkins with the necessary silverware and set out a stack of deep soup bowls and small plates. Let guests serve themselves buffet style. Complete your stress-free, do-ahead dinner with a large pitcher of White Sangria (page 175) and a combination plate of Chile Crinkle Cookies (page 206) and Chubby’s White Pralines (page 68).

True Bolognese sauce takes hours to simmer and deepen. Since the Yucatan-Style Slow-Roasted Pork (page 66) is already deeply flavored from all those hours in the oven, all you need to do is take it on a brief trip to Italy. This makes a very hearty all-inclusive serving for one; you could easily stretch it to serve two by boiling up a little extra pasta and including a salad and some bread on the table.

You know you’ve got a taco problem when you make a duck breast recipe from a destined-to-be-classic Chinese cookbook and think, “Wouldn’t these be good in tortillas?” Yes, that’s what happened to me when I tried Eileen Yin-Fei Lo’s simple baked duck breasts from Mastering the Art of Chinese Cooking. I served them for a Chinese dinner that night, but pretty soon I was playing around with a riff on five-spice powder, combining Asian and Mexican ingredients and rubbing them into the breasts before using Lo’s baking technique. A sweet, sour, and spicy plum salsa was just the thing to cut through and complement the deep flavors of the rich duck.

You’ve done the work to make the Yucatan-Style Slow-Roasted Pork (page 66) already, so now you get to take advantage of its depth of flavor and combine it with a fiery (and I mean that) salsa and Citrus-Pickled Onions (page 19) in these vibrant tacos. This recipe makes about 1/4 cup of the salsa, and a little goes a long way, so you may have some left over. It will last for 2 weeks refrigerated in an airtight container, and you can use it on all manner of eggs and meats, and as a salad dressing base, but my favorite use might be to mash a tablespoon or two into the yolks of a half dozen hard-cooked eggs, along with mayo, for a party snack that puts the devil back into deviled eggs, for sure. (And yes, pickled onions are good on those babies, too.)

If you haven’t eaten tacos in Mexico City, then as far as I’m concerned, you haven’t really eaten tacos. Countless joints there specialize in tacos al pastor, carved off a spit like the shawarma from which it is derived, but with the delectable addition of pineapple (and with tortillas, naturally, instead of pita). They usually make a bit of a show of it, too: At El Califa, my sister and I watched the taco guy hold a plate with two tortillas on it in one hand, then use a long knife in the other to swipe off a chunk of pork, which fell right onto one of the tortillas. He quickly reached higher and sliced off a bit of the pineapple ring that was sitting on top of the spit, catching the fruit, too, on the tortilla. One of El Califa’s other specialties is a steak cutlet taco: The single piece of meat is longer than the tortilla, but it’s so tender it folds up inside and you can bite through it with your teeth. I like to combine the two ideas into one: using a thin cutlet of pork that I quickly marinate in pineapple juice and combining the traditional garnishes of onion, cilantro, pineapple, and lime into a quick salsa.