Broccoli/Broccolini

Beurre noisette is browned or nut-colored, butter, a French classic that fully qualifies as a sauce yet contains only one ingredient. If you’ve never had it, beurre noisette’s complex flavor and beguiling aroma, redolent of hazelnuts, will amaze you. And if you like it over broccoli, you’ll probably find that you like it over almost any other sturdy, full-flavored vegetable.

Fresh asian-style noodles are everywhere these days—even supermarkets—and they’re ideal for soups, because you can cook them right in the broth. It takes only a few minutes, and, unlike dried noodles, they won’t make the broth too starchy. Do not overcook the noodles; if you use thin ones, they’ll be ready almost immediately after you add them to the simmering stock. Start with canned chicken stock if you must, but don’t skip the step of simmering it briefly with the garlic and ginger, which will give it a decidedly Asian flavor.

Leftover Broccoli—maybe that you boiled or steamed as a simple side dish—is a super candidate for this soup. (You may even find yourself making more broccoli than you can eat, as I do, specifically so you can turn it into this soup the next day.) To use leftovers, rinse off any remnants of dressing with hot water, add it to the pan after you’ve cooked away the garlic’s raw taste, and proceed without any additional cooking.

A classic stir-fried noodle dish, just about the paradigm. You can make this with pork, chicken, shrimp, or any other bit of meat or fish you have or keep it entirely vegetarian; it’s eminently flexible and an important part of every home cook’s repertoire. The variation that follows is a traditional dish for New Year’s celebrations and wedding banquets. E-fu noodles, which are long, thin, flat egg noodles, symbolize long life. Most Asian groceries carry them, but if you cannot find them, regular egg noodles are fine too. The meat will be easier to slice thinly if you freeze it for 30 to 60 minutes first. (This is always the case with any boneless meat or poultry.)

A staple dish of India, often made with potatoes added (cook large chunks of the potato in the same water, at the same time, as the cauliflower and simply increase the amount of oil and spice). Best with homemade curry powder or garam masala. The cumin seeds add a nice bit of crunch but are not essential. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: broccoli, potatoes, carrots, turnips, radishes.

Marginally different from the preceding dish, but enough so that I thought its inclusion worthwhile, Gobi Taktakin is a dish made on the streets of India, where they use knives to mince the cauliflower as it sautés on huge flat griddles. (The dish’s onomatopoeic name alludes to the tak-tak-tak sound of two knives simultaneously mincing and tossing the cauliflower as it sautés. To spare your pans the extra wear, it’s better to chop the cauliflower in advance.) Best with homemade curry powder or garam masala. Cumin seeds add a nice crunch, and cilantro adds a fresh note at the end, but neither is essential. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: broccoli, potatoes, carrots, turnips, radishes.

This is broccoli as it’s done in Rome: garlic, olive oil, and lemon (almost everything—from mussels to beans to veal—can be cooked with these flavorings and called Roman-style). The first method is more familiar and perhaps a tad more reliable for beginning cooks; the second requires a bit more judgment, but it’s better. If you like, add a few anchovy fillets along with the garlic. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: almost anything—dark leafy greens like collards and kale, cauliflower, green beans, carrots, and beets, for example.

The bright green stir-fry of Chinese restaurants. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: if you can’t find gai lan, use broccoli raab or even collards or kale; broccoli or cauliflower will work too.

The vegetables in Vietnam are as beautiful as any I’ve ever seen, and, because there was still little refrigeration when I visited the country, they were fresher than most. This might explain why I enjoyed the simple vegetable stir-fries so much. Then again, it may be the nam pla—or, to use the Vietnamese term, nuoc mam. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: you can use whatever vegetables you like here—you want a total of three to four cups for four people—as long as you follow the basic principles of stir-frying (page 311).

The Spanish version of Tempura (page 91), this produces a much thicker crust. It is most often made with shrimp, but you can use any seafood or vegetable or even bits of meat. It’s a simple but super flavorful frying technique. In much of Spain, olive oil is used for deep-frying, and it’s good; furthermore, it has become so inexpensive that it’s no longer impractical. But you can use a neutral oil, like corn or vegetable oil, if you prefer.

Tempura is not the only batter-fried appetizer in the world; in fact, many cuisines have a similar dish, and some of these recipes follow. But tempura is very light, easy to make, and pretty much foolproof; chances are you’ll get it right even on your first try. Shrimp is the most common seafood, and probably the best, for use in tempura, but there’s no reason you couldn’t use other shellfish or even finfish. As for vegetables, it’s a matter of whatever is on hand. Harder vegetables, like winter squash and carrots, should be cut into thin slices so they become tender at about the same time they are browned. More tender vegetables—zucchini, eggplant, mushrooms, and the like—can be made larger or even, in the case of mushrooms or green beans, kept whole. Tempura, like most fried foods, must be served immediately. It will hold in a low oven for a few minutes, but as we all know it’s at its best the second it’s done. As long as you’re comfortable with your guests, serve each piece as you make it, in your kitchen. For frying, use a light, clean oil; grapeseed is probably best, but the more common (and cheaper) corn and safflower are good too. A frying or instant-read thermometer is a good idea, and temperatures of 330–350°F will work well for both vegetables and fish. If you don’t have a thermometer, put a drop of batter into the oil when you think it’s ready; it should neither sink to the bottom (too cold) nor immediately dance on the surface (too hot), but sink slightly beneath the surface and then rise to the top and skitter a bit.

I first encountered this dish in Chicago. While the sauce for the pasta has all the makings of a primavera, the fried shrimp on top is very much Sicilian.