Lettuce

This is a B-L-D meal: good for Breakfast, Lunch, or Dinner.

As a sign of spring, this salmon dish, made with the first peas of the season, has been handed down from generation to generation since the first Jews left Spain during the Inquisition. I tasted it in Biarritz, at the lovely villa of Nicole Rousso, who comes from a Portuguese merchant family from Bayonne.

The first time I tasted a simple French lettuce salad of greens tossed in a mustardy vinaigrette, I marveled at how uncomplicated and delicious it was. Presented after the main course, as is traditional in Europe, the lettuce dish cleanses the palate. In France, with its varied climate and wonderful produce, salad greens are in season all year long and have been eaten forever, both cooked and raw. Serve as is, or with chopped fresh basil, cilantro, dill, tarragon, or chives sprinkled on top. Tiny slices of radish are a nice addition and, according to the Talmud, help digest lettuce.

On a late-june evening, I entered a courtyard in the Fifth Arrondissement, right near the picturesque Rue Mouffetard, one of my favorite streets in Paris when I was a student there so many years ago. Beyond the courtyard, I found myself in a large garden in front of an apartment building. After climbing two flights of stairs, I arrived at the home of Irving Petlin, an American artist, and his beautiful wife, Sarah. The two expats have lived here on and off since 1959. Sarah frequents the local markets, going to the Place Monge for her onions and garlic, making sure she visits her potato man from North Africa. Having chosen peonies for the table, she arranged them in a vase next to a big bowl of ripe cherries, making her table, with the Panthéon in the background, as beautiful as a perfectly orchestrated still life. At the meal, I especially liked the soup, which calls for lettuce leaves—a good way, I thought, of using up the tougher outer leaves that most of us discard, but which still have a lot of flavor. The French have a long tradition of herb- and- salad soup, something Americans should be increasingly interested in, given all the new wonderful greens we’re growing in our backyards and finding at farmers’ markets. I often replace the zucchini with eggplant and substitute other herbs that are available in my summer garden. This soup is also delicious served warm in the winter.

I like to make this Lebanese salad with basmati rice, because the grains stay very separate.

Another Moroccan orange salad. Argan is the preferred oil for it in Morocco, but you could also try hazelnut, walnut, or sesame oil.

This salad brings back for me memories of the garlands of islands floating in the deep blue sea, the plaintive sound of the bouzouki, and the sugar-cake houses.

This is a homely version of the very green parsley-and-mint salad with buff-colored speckles of bulgur wheat you find in all Lebanese restaurants all over the world. Like many items on the standard Lebanese restaurant menu, it was born in the mountain region of Zahlé, in the Bekáa Valley of Lebanon, where the local anise flavored grape liquor arak is produced. Renowned for its fresh air and its natural springs and the river Bardaouni, which cascades down the mountain, the region acquired a mythical reputation for gastronomy. In 1920 two cafés opened by the river. They gave away assorted nuts, seeds, olives, bits of cheese, and raw vegetables with the local arak. Gradually the entire valley became filled with open-air cafés, each larger and more luxurious than the next, each vying to attract customers who flocked from all over the Middle East with ever more varied mezze. The reputation of the local mountain-village foods they offered, of which tabbouleh was one of the jewels, spread far and wide and became a national institution. What started as a relatively substantial salad, rich with bulgur, was transformed over the years into an all-green herby affair. When the first edition of my book came out, I received letters telling me I had too much bulgur in that recipe. One letter from Syria explained that mine was the way people made the salad many years ago, when they needed to fill their stomachs. You see, many of my relatives left Syria for Egypt a hundred years ago, and that was how they continued to make it. The following is a contemporary version.

There is a mystique around the preparation of this famous salad. I watched my friend Kamal make it in Beirut, and his main tip was that you must slice, not chop, the parsley, so that it does not get crushed and mushy. Use the fine-ground bulgur, which is available in Middle Eastern stores. These stores and Asian ones also sell parsley in tied bunches that weigh between 7 ounces and 10 ounces with stems. Mix and dress the salad only when you are ready to serve.

Kisir is a salad from Gaziantep. You need the fine-ground (not medium) bulgur, which you can find in Middle Eastern stores. The chili pepper gives it a thrilling zing but you can leave it out. Serve the salad with little lettuce leaves that can be used as scoops.

A basic tossed salad is transformed into a crunchy sandwich by wrapping it up. This makes a great side dish for grain, bean, pasta, and soy entrées.

Refried beans to the rescue once again—this time in a room-temperature wrap that’s a delight to serve to lunchtime company or pack into a brown-bag lunch or picnic.

In another super-easy, nearly instant tortilla recipe, chewy baked tofu stands in for chicken. You may not find this wonderful product in the supermarket; look for it in natural foods stores.

If you find yourself with too much lettuce and some leftover rice, here’s a great way to use both.

Just as you would never find chow mein in China, I don’t think you’d find this salad anywhere in Asia, but the concept is a popular one. In my version, chicken breasts are roasted, not deep-fried.

Butter lettuce, grown hydroponically, is a great way to add green to your cold-weather menus. This quick and easy salad is so tasty that Mary-Frances Heck, Bon Appétit's Associate Food Editor, throws some leftover roast chicken on top and calls it a meal.

Chinese cooks don't use a lot of raw vegetables, but instead prefer to stir-fry or braise them. There are a few exceptions, however, and in Hong Kong cooks fill crisp iceberg lettuce leaves with savory minced pigeon meat. Since we have no intention of domesticating the pigeons outside my New York City apartment window (pigeon meat is hard to find in the United States), we've substituted chicken in this recipe, which tastes equally as delicious. Chuck all the filling ingredients in a food processor if you're in a hurry, but larger chunks of mushrooms and water chestnuts add texture. Don't forget the fresh cilantro leaves heaped on top.

However tempting it may be to eat all of the ultra-crunchy croutons—panfried in chicken fat—right out of the skillet, save some for this summery composed salad. And if you're feeling less indulgent,leave out the croutons and chicken skin.