Bok Choy

This colorful mélange of flavors and textures is easy enough for a weeknight meal, yet gorgeous enough to impress guests.

Crunchy and colorful, this is an appealing presentation for cold Asian noodles.

This bountiful rice dish offers a variety of flavors and textures. I especially like the burst of sweetness provided by tiny orange sections.

Caravan of Dreams is one of the restaurants where my family likes to eat when we’re in New York City. It’s a funky, comfortable place in the East Village, with food that’s hearty and innovative (and all vegan). Once, my younger son ordered the Green Garden Platter, described as “seasonal mixed greens sautéed with grilled marinated seitan, garlic, and olive oil, topped with grilled carrot polenta in mushroom gravy.” I was intrigued by the combination of seitan and polenta, so when I got home, I made my own version, which bears little resemblance to the restaurant’s. There’s something enticing about the seitan/polenta synergy, and with the addition of greens, the result is a great-looking, hearty dish.

This recipe is based on one of my favorite Chinese take-out dishes. The problem with the restaurant version is that it is often rather oily. I’ve devised this low-fat version as a way to satisfy my craving for it.

Thick, hearty noodles make this fifteen-minute soup substantial, yet it’s not too filling to serve as an introduction to another course.

This Asian take on grilled pork chops blends honey, soy sauce, and ginger for a sweet and savory glaze. Grill the bok choy only until char marks form and the outer leaves begin to wilt.

This dish proves how a few simple ingredients can turn into a wonderful meal. You can add more vegetables if you want, but I say why mess with success? This dish has a hint of spice. If you like things spicier, you can be more generous with the crushed red pepper.

The Vietnamese repertoire also includes panfried Chinese egg noodles, which are cooked just like rice noodles and crowned with a delicious stir-fry. Full of varied flavors, textures, and color, this stir-fry pairs exceptionally well with the egg noodles. I use fresh noodles about 1/8 inch thick. Their texture is superior to dried noodles, and they offer more body than thin ones.

This soup borrows heavily from Vietnam’s northern neighbor. Mì vit tiem is one of my mom’s favorites, and she is partial to a version made by her friend Mrs. Tan, who, along with her husband, once owned a Chinese barbecue restaurant in San Diego. Unlike pho, which most Viet home cooks know how to make, mì vit tiem is usually left to the pros. The trick is cooking the duck legs until tender (but not mushy), mahogany brown, and deeply seasoned. The traditional approach is to marinate them, flash fry them for color, and then simmer them in the broth. Some cooks even refry the legs right before serving. When my mom finally asked Mrs. Tan for her secret, she divulged that she roasted and then steamed the duck legs, instead of frying and simmering them. Her method evenly colors the duck, seals in the seasonings, preserves the integrity of the meat, and easily removes much of the fat. I developed this recipe using Mrs. Tan’s method. Traditionally, the duck leg is served whole on the side for diners to attack with chopsticks and spoons. Since that is hard to do, even for a native chopstick user like me, I slice the meat and serve it in the bowl.

In Buddhism, patience is more than a virtue; it’s one of the “six perfections” that can lead to enlightenment. I thought about that the first several times I tried this dish, which is inspired by a technique developed by chef Eric Ripert. Ripert, a practicing Buddhist, asks you to let the fish very slowly cook on one side, uncovered, in a shallow bath, which is why the French call this a l’unilateral. I guess I’m just not Zen enough, because every time I tried the technique, after 20 or 25 minutes of waiting, I was tempted to either turn up the heat, turn over the fish, or both. Because I’m not nearly as smart (or patient) as Ripert, it took far too long for me to realize that the method that better suits my temperament is a common one: Cover the fish. The most important ingredient, besides the fish, is the delicately seasoned Shaoxing cooking wine, which can be found in Asian supermarkets. It’s worth trying to find, but you can substitute Japanese mirin, dry sherry, or other Chinese rice wine, although you may need to adjust the seasoning with vinegar before you eat it. Just don’t use generic “cooking wine” you see in mainstream supermarkets; you’ll regret that, believe me.

Bok choy or, better still, gai lan will be perfect here. Eat it hot and spluttering from the pan.

In many parts of the world, breakfast is a savory affair. Throughout Asia, hearty congee is a favorite morning dish, eaten with condiments ranging from stir-fried pork to fried garlic. This version gets a citrus zing from lemongrass (shown below) and ginger. Normally made with white rice, the grain most widely available in Asia, congee can be made using any whole grain. Soaking the rice overnight cuts the cooking time in half.

Ginkgos are infamous for the acrid smell of their fruit, but the nuts hidden inside are a treasured ingredient in Asian cuisine. In and around the Chinatown neighborhoods of many cities, you can find people under trees collecting the nuts in autumn. Go out and join them, but be sure to wear protective gloves when touching the fruit and extracting the nuts; otherwise, the smell will remain on your hands. Remove the flesh outdoors—the less you bring into your home the better. You can find canned or dried ginkgos in Asian grocery stores.

Shumai is a Chinese import that’s a popular dish in casual restaurants, and is also a staple of Japanese homes, where it’s enjoyed as a snack or a dinnertime side dish (but never as the main course). Leftovers hold up well and can be polished off the next day, or packed into a lunchbox or picnic basket and eaten at room temperature. You can also freeze uncooked shumai for up to a month. Follow the instructions below to steam frozen shumai—no need to defrost; simply add a couple of minutes to the cooking time.

What I love about this recipe is how well fresh Italian pasta works combined with these Asian flavors. It’s a true crossover dish, the pasta adding wonderful flavor and texture to the earthy and spicy notes in the sauce. Pork and eggplant is a natural combination that reminds me of Sichuan cuisine. Chinese eggplants, by the way, have a delicate skin, so when you peel them you can leave on some strips of skin for aesthetic purposes. This stir-fried dish is unwieldy to cook for four servings, so prepare it in two batches.