Ramadan

I enjoy going out for Indian food and pairing a cool, calming lhassi with a heavily spiced meal. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to develop one for my dessert menu. This one—which I worked out with my friend and onetime sous-chef Jason Casey—is creamy smooth and softly perfumed with rose water and cinnamon.

Banana leaves gracefully cover cocoa beans in their fermenting bins where the beans develop their extraordinary flavor. Roadside farm stands in chocolate’s growing regions offer a jumble of bananas, cinnamon sticks, plantains, cacao pods, walnuts, vanilla beans, and coconuts, all from trees of the tropics. For that extra earth-friendly touch, use muffin or cupcake liners made with unbleached, eco-friendly paper.

These easy, no-bake candies are good for you if you eat only two or three, which is dangerously difficult to do. You’ll find a balance between the natural sweetness of dates and honey and the bitterness of rich cocoa.

You can make this dish again, subbing cubed white or dark meat chicken for the lamb if you have extra spice blend on hand.

We love the complex flavors of this puree. We like to serve it with the Twice-Cooked Scallops (page 25). It also goes well with salmon, turkey, corned beef, and the Root Beer–Braised Short Ribs (page 226). The smokiness gives the mixture a rich meaty taste and enhances the sweetness of the dried fruits. Rest assured, though—even if you don’t have smoked fruits, you can use the regular dried version and still enjoy something special.

This couscous dish, originally made especially by Moroccans at the Maimouna, a post-Passover celebration, has become pan–North African in France now that Tunisians and Algerians are preparing it. They also make this dish, using butter and accompanying it with yogurt, at Shavuot, a late-spring holiday celebrating the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai and the abundance of milk in the springtime. Sweet couscous can be made with either couscous or rice, although I prefer the texture of the couscous with the raisins and nuts.

For Women, cookbook are often memories of their mothers. Daisy Taïeb, the mother of two daughters, wrote Les Fêtes Juives à Tunis Racontées à Mes Filles (Jewish Holidays in Tunis as Told to My Daughters). “My daughters wanted to learn the religious customs in Tunis, like the fète des filles, a festival where the girls go to the synagogue all in white,” she told me. “Soon, with rapid Frenchification and assimilation, you will be able to learn about these traditions only in museums.” One day when I was in Nice, I watched Madame Taïeb cook her famous meatballs stuffed into vegetables. She was making them for Friday night dinner, to serve with couscous. Though I had expected a quiet, grandmotherly woman, I found her to be a trim, stylish lady who had taken the Dale Carnegie course on public speaking. She is the president of the French version of the Jewish Federation in Nice, and the representative of B’nai B’rith on the Côte d’Azur. These days, Madame Taïeb, who has lived alone since her husband’s death, invites people in for Sabbath dinner. “In Tunisia, you have the same foods as in Nice— fish, vegetables, spices— so it is not difficult to make the recipes,” she told me. “But you have to use your hands to judge, not your eyes, when making meatballs.” For Madame Taïeb, couscous with meatballs stuffed into peppers, artichoke bottoms, and eggplants, one of my favorite dishes, is symbolic of family, remembrance, and Friday night dinners.

When I was in Bordeaux, I received a call from Yaël Nahon, a young woman in public relations who loves to cook. We decided to meet at the Place des Quinconces, a beautiful square near the harbor with shimmering water where children play in the summer. In her spare time she is trying to re-create the dishes of her mother and grandmother, who came from Oran, in Algeria. Like many other North Africans, she uses spigol (an Algerian spice combination of hot pepper, saffron, and cumin, now packaged in Marseille) to enhance the flavor of her chicken dishes. This is a dish Yael ate every Friday night of her childhood. It was always preceded by several salads and followed by cookies and fruit.

This is made in the same way as in the last recipe, only it has a layer of sliced bananas at the top.

This recipe is very similar to the last, only a bit grander.

In India and Pakistan a very fine pasta, known as seviyan, is used for this quick pudding. Most grocers in the West sell it laid out in long, slim boxes, but in cities like Lahore you can find it in open markets—all exposed, in the shape of little nests of thin pasta piled up into a mountain. The pasta is broken up and lightly browned before it is cooked into a pudding. I find that angel-hair pasta, which often comes in the shape of nests, makes a very good substitute for seviyan, and that is what I have started to use. This pudding may be eaten hot, warm, or at room temperature. In Pakistan, it is known as sheer korma and in India as seviyan ki kheer. On a cold wintry day in North India or Pakistan there is nothing nicer than a warm version of this pudding. The nuts and raisins are optional. You may leave them out altogether and then, if you like, just sprinkle some chopped almonds or pistachios over the top.

This dense, intense yogurt custard is a specialty of Bengal, where it is called bhapa doi—steamed custard. Bengalis have quite a sweet tooth, and this is one of the hundreds of sweet things they buy from the market, all set in terra-cotta pots, to have at the end of their meals. Here is a quick, easy version that I learned from a Bengali friend. It can be eaten by itself or with fruit. You may double the recipe, using a 4-cup dish. The cooking time should be the same.

Tapioca pearls and sago pearls are made from two completely different plants, the first from the starchy tapioca/cassava root and the other from the starchy pith removed from the trunk of the sago palm. One originated in the New World, the other in Southeast Asia. Yet the two are endlessly confused. Since their starch is very similar, it hardly matters where cooking is concerned. Indian grocers often put both names, tapioca pearls and sagudana or sabudana (sago pearls), on the same packet. I grew up with this kheer, or pudding. When I came home from school in the middle of a hot afternoon, my mother would have individual terra-cotta bowls of this waiting in the refrigerator. It was very simple and basic, nothing more than milk, sago, cardamom for flavor, and sugar. We called it sagudanay ki kheer, or sago pearl pudding, though it may well have been made with tapioca pearls.

At all of India’s roadside stalls, Masala Chai is served already sweetened. I have added about 1 teaspoon sugar per cup in this recipe, which makes the tea just mildly sweet. You may double that amount, if you prefer.

I like to refrigerate this lassi, covered, with all the seasonings in it, for a couple of hours. Then I strain and serve it. It is particularly good at the very start of a meal, served in tiny glasses to whet the appetite. (You may also strain and serve it as soon as it is made, with a couple of ice cubes. The flavors will be mellower.) You can easily double or triple the recipe.

This is best made when good fresh mangoes are in season. When they are not, very good-quality canned pulp from India’s excellent Alphonso mangoes may be used instead. Most Indian grocers sell this.

Here is an easy everyday yogurt relish. I like to use a good whole-milk yogurt here, but if you prefer a low-fat variety it would work well too. My cherry tomatoes were on the larger side so I cut each into eight portions. Use more if they are smaller and just quarter them. Serve with most Indian meals or eat by itself as a snack.

This is a typical Gujarati dish: slightly sweet, slightly salty, slightly hot, and dotted with mustard seeds. I just love it. In India it would be served with a meal, but if you are in the habit of having a yogurt for lunch, try this very nutritious version.