Mint

While this relish boldly says, “I am mint!,” it also has a bite from chile, ginger, and raw onion. Lime juice and sugar tame and unite the ingredients. This, along with the Tamarind and Date Chutney (page 220), provides just the right bright accents to Indian Samosas (page 115).

When you present dumplings with this sauce, the combination may recall an Italian pasta dish, but the sauce’s zesty qualities resemble the Latin flavors of Mexico more than of Europe. But on closer analysis, the combination of chile, ginger, herbs, and spices is definitely Asian, specifically Nepal’s Himalayan cuisine, which blends Chinese, Indian, and Tibetan traditions. In the Nepalese repertoire, this sauce is a type of achar (a moniker for chutneys and pickles) and is what typically accompanies momo; it’s great with Tibetan momo, too. With a tangy edge, moderate heat, and spiced depth, the sauce has a multilayered punch that begins seemingly subtle but finishes with a certain feistiness. Sometimes ground toasted sesame seeds are added for richness, but I find that they mute the other flavors too much.

This potato and chickpea curry, with its coconut milk and sugar, is more characteristic of southern Indian cooking than northern. The chickpeas themselves take a nice, long cook, while the remaining ingredients are added about an hour before serving.

Somewhere along the way, mint sherbet got a bad rap. Perhaps too many catered wedding receptions began with a pallid artificially green scoop melting away in the middle of a melon half, the sherbet chosen because it matched the bridesmaids’ dresses rather than for its taste. Thankfully, any color you’ll find in this mint sherbet comes naturally from a big handful of fragrant, zesty fresh mint. Unlike ice cream, sherbet is usually made with milk, and no cream or eggs, so I never feel guilty about indulging in a couple of scoops. Nor do I feel deprived if I’m craving something a tad creamy. Light yet creamy—it’s a recipe for a perfect marriage.

This creamy Greek dip is king atop pita bread or pita chips, but it also finds a home alongside fresh veggies, grilled meats, or piping-hot falafel. If you are unable to find Persian cucumbers, feel free to substitute the English or hothouse variety.

This dazzling emerald green sauce is incredibly versatile.

The flavors in this wonderful chutney make it a good choice for brightening just about any dish.

When treatment side effects dry out the body—and believe me, that’s a fairly common occurrence—granitas come to the rescue. Granitas are similar to Italian ices in consistency, which makes them great for people with mouth sores, and melons are full of water, so they’re great for rehydration. In fact, melons in any form are a wonderful source of fluids and nutrients. Eaten on an empty stomach (and that’s the best way to consume them, as they can cause an awful lot of tummy rumbling when combined with other food), melons require little stomach action and go right into the small intestine, allowing quick absorption of their nutrients. And here’s a fun fact: Cantaloupes are named after the Italian town Cantalupo, which means “howl of the wolf.” No telling if there’s a run on cantaloupes there whenever the moon is full …

Surprisingly, this couscous recipe has its origins in Italy. I was in Sicily, deep in the land of linguini, when out came couscous as part of our meal. “Couscous?” I thought. “That’s Moroccan, not Italian.” Well, it turns out that every invading army passing through Sicily left a bit of its cuisine behind. And couscous, despite the exotic name, is actually a tiny, beadlike pasta. I love it because it’s easy to prepare—no huge pots of boiling water necessary, just a little steam or hot broth and, in 10 minutes, voila! It’s also so soft and delicious in the mouth, like a gentle massage. Pistachios are my secret ingredient here. Most people think of them as something you only see at a ballgame or in ice cream, but their buttery texture, great vitamin content, and wonderful pale green coloring make them a great choice anytime. I love to put a dollop of Sweet and Savory Yogurt (page 189) on top of this dish. This recipe works beautifully with a drizzle of Moroccan Pesto (page 186).

Shopping for fish can be intimidating. Maybe it’s the fact that half of them are staring at you from behind the counter, as if to say, “Jeez, how did I end up here? “ So, if you’re going to do them—and yourself——justice, here’s how to rustle up a fine, fresh fillet. You need to use your eyes and your nose. Look for a cut where the flesh is moist and glistening, with no flat, brown edges. If the fish looks dull, take a pass. Same goes for any fillet with a fishy or ammonia smell. Don’t be shy about asking your fishmonger a few questions, like when the fish came in and from where. Most stores have regular shipments; knowing that schedule in advance can help you plan when to have fish. If black cod were in a band, it would be the bass player: steady, meaty, but not much of a soloist. It benefits from some jazzy front men and especially likes to swing with citrus high notes. You’ll find plenty of those riffs in this dish.

Here’s a great example of what I call culinary architecture, which entails building on a great foundation. In this case, I’m playing off what Middle Easterners call tabouli, a wonderful salad with a fantastic fresh taste that’s incredibly easy to make (and impossible to mess up). The base of any tabouli is a grain, lemon juice, parsley, and mint. That’s our building block. Then we add the ornamentation, which always emphasizes both form and function. The beans create a complete protein, the pleasing crunch (and a whole bunch of antioxidants) comes from pepper, while olives add a little healthy salt. Like any powerful piece of architecture, it’s the combination of simplicity and tasteful elegance that makes this salad so enjoyable and memorable.

One of my favorite gatherings is the Food as Medicine conference, which brings together hundreds of nutritionally minded physicians, nurses, and other wellness professionals. I cook for the attendees, and while they often kindly tell me how much they learn from me, it definitely goes both ways. In fact, this recipe was inspired by Dr. Joel Evans, who is attracted to nutrition from both a scientific and an aesthetic viewpoint and loves to speak about the colors of food having a tangible relation to their healing qualities. There is a school of thought—and increasing scientific evidence—that the more vibrant the color, the more nutrition there is to be found in a food. As an ode to Joel, I set out to create the most colorful salad I could, using purple beets, orange carrots, and fresh mint. If I’d had a vegetable crisper instead of a box of crayons as a kid, this salad would have been the result. You can substitute lemon or lime juice for the orange juice.

While the concept of sweet-and-sour dishes is generally appealing, the execution often leaves something to be desired. Sweet-and-sour is like a seesaw; if it tilts too far in either direction, you could be thrown off balance, mangling your taste buds in the process. In this recipe I use a very light hand on both sides; the sour is a delicate brown rice vinegar, the sweet a gentle agave nectar. They dance together nicely on the tongue, more like ballet than Irish clogging. For folks who like a crunchy texture or who want to avoid fat, this one’s a winner.

I was working at the Chopra Center for Wellbeing when the only living woman Indian saint stopped in. Her entourage laid down some pretty strict rules: No talking to the saint. No approaching the saint. And whatever you do, don’t touch the saint. But after eating her bowl of dahl, this little imp of a holy woman motioned me over and then … proceeded to kiss me on the forehead! The Chopra folks (and I guess the saint as well) like their dahl chunky, and I love it that way too, but it’s just as enjoyable blended and smooth. Blend the dahl a bit if you want something a little easier to swallow or digest. Small amounts of this dahl are wonderful for someone who isn’t particularly hungry, as the cumin is an appetite stimulant.

For success with this soup, don’t settle for less than luscious, tree-ripened peaches. Avoid peaches that are bought rock-hard, only to ripen to flavorless mush after several days of waiting.

A perfect dessert soup to make in July, when melons are at their sweetest. This makes a refreshing finish to a grilled meal.

It takes minutes to make this sweet soup. Try serving it after a meal rather than before—it’s a wonderful palate cooler after a spicy meal. Or it can be the main event at lunch on a hot summer day, served with blueberry muffins.

Here’s an exceptionally easy, no-cook soup. This evolved from the classic recipe for Middle Eastern cucumber soup, which is made with a base of yogurt. However, I don’t think it tastes right with soy yogurt, so I tinkered with it until it approximated the original flavor, without the yogurt. I enjoy it with barley added, as suggested in the variation below.

Larb is traditional Thai comfort food. The mint adds a clean jolt of flavor to this casserole-type meal. My cousin Abi lived in Thailand for a time and helped me fine-tune my version of this classic dish. Typically, the meat and rice are served over raw cabbage, but we think this style is pretty tasty as well. You can use serrano, Anaheim, or almost any other kind of chile pepper if you can’t find a jalapeño. Of course, your meal will be as spicy as your chile. Consider adding 1 tablespoon of chopped fresh basil or cilantro to the mint mixture for a slightly different taste.