Dill

Lamb stew is a quintessential spring dish that can be a real celebration—or unbearably heavy. The difference has little to do with the lamb and much to do with the vegetables: If the stew sports color and lots of different flavors, it is lovely, almost light. If, on the other hand, it contains little besides lamb and potatoes, it becomes the cafeteria-style “Irish stew” that gave the dish a bad name in the first place. This is how it’s done in Scandinavia—bright, colorful, and fresh tasting. In other parts of northern Europe, parsley might be substituted for the dill; it’s just as good. Other cuts of meat you can use here: beef chuck or brisket (which will require somewhat longer cooking time), veal shoulder.

A fairly quick stew—some would call it fricassee, but that term is so widely used as to be meaningless—that gives you loads of uncommon flavor for very little work. Great with polenta (page 529), which you must call mamaliga in this instance. Other cuts of meat you can use here: pork shoulder.

The more-or-less standard meat filling for stuffed vegetables, made with a lot of herbs and spices. It’s so delicious that you can bake the vegetables with no sauce around them, as in the recipe on page 492, or use one of the preparations on pages 445–447. You can add pine nuts and currants to this mixture if you like or make the vegetarian version that follows.

Like many Mediterranean vegetables, these are cooked until quite soft—none of this crisp-tender business—and commonly served at room temperature, making it a fine dish to prepare in advance.

The perfect midsummer dish, one that can be served hot or cold. Convert it to a pasta sauce by tossing it, hot, with cooked pasta, a couple of raw eggs, and some freshly grated Parmesan cheese. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: Any summer squash.

Not unlike the better-known Middle Eastern and Indian combinations of yogurt and cucumbers, this Polish version is more tart than its Eastern cousins, making it especially refreshing as a part of a meal with heavy dishes.

Borscht, like gazpacho, is difficult to define; there are more versions than you can count. But at least we know they all (or almost all, anyway) contain beets (it’s likely that the word borscht comes from the same root as the word for beet). And usually borscht is served cold. But it can be a vegetarian affair or a big meaty stew. The vegetarian version is usually served cold, while the beefy version is usually a hot winter dish. Here’s a fairly simple cold borscht with hot potatoes, a style I have made for thirty years (and first ate, at my grandmother’s table, before that). For a meaty borscht, see page 148.

Parsley puree is almost universal, but this is the Spanish version, sharp, garlicky, and great with fish or any grilled meat. There are a couple of different ways to make parsley puree, and other herbs can be used in the same way (pesto is very closely related).

Practically ubiquitous in Sweden and wonderful with cold vegetables, gravlax, cold meats, and sandwiches. You can leave it fairly thick and use it as a dip or thin it as much as you like to make it a little more saucy or even as thin as a salad dressing.

Quenelles, like gefilte fish (page 36), are fish balls, but they are elegant fish balls, containing cream, herbs, and butter. As a result, they’re more expensive and more caloric than gefilte fish, but faster and easier to make. Also like gefilte fish, they traditionally were made from freshwater fish (especially pike), but you can use any delicate white-fleshed fish you like. This is a big, fancy first course, best followed with something light and simple, unless you’re planning an elegant dinner. Chervil is the best possible herb to use here, but it is almost always difficult to find; dill is the standard second choice.

In Sweden these little fish “sandwiches” are made with Baltic herring, but you can make them with any small fish from which you can remove the backbone, such as smelts, anchovies, and sardines (the names of all of these fish are confused anyway—many true herring and anchovies are called sardines and vice versa). To bone these fish, grasp the head and pull straight down; most of the innards will come out along with it; use your thumb to open the fish up from the front, then grasp the backbone and remove. You’ll be left with two tiny fillets joined by the skin. Plan to make eight of these—four sandwiches—for each serving if you make them as a main course.

One of the simplest and most impressive cured dishes and certainly the king of cured fish. Speaking of king, if you can find wild Pacific salmon (usually spring through fall), especially king or sockeye, use it; if not, farm-raised salmon is quite good when treated this way. In fact, farm-raised salmon is a pretty good option—because it is harvested and shipped to stores daily it’s usually perfectly fresh, a requisite for all salmon you’d consider using for gravlax. Generally, gravlax is ready within 24 hours, but it’s better after a little longer than that, and you can hold it for another couple of days before serving if you like; it will become increasingly dry and strong flavored, not a bad thing. In any case, treat finished gravlax as a fresh food and use it within a few days.

We have many good local seafood suppliers here on the coast, but one that has consistently been there to serve me with good, fresh seafood, day in and day out, is Mathews Seafood. This business was started years ago by Louis Mathews. Today, his three sons, Chris, Trey, and John, carry on in their father’s ootsteps. I can always count on these young men to guide us in selecting the best they have to offer. Thanks, guys!

Esther Shaver owns one of the best bookstores in town. Her store, E. Shaver’s, was one of the first places to carry my cookbook. Not only is her store great, but so is her coleslaw!