Keto

Obviously not a sauce for everyone. But in Liguria, where it seems people eat anchovies daily, it’s popular. An incredibly easy sauce to spice up grilled chicken or fish—swordfish, for example—whether hot or cold.

I love this over pasta, but it’s also good used as you would salsa, hot or cold: over grilled or poached fish, meat, or poultry, or even as a dip. Be sure, one day, to try the Spanish version (page 606).

There is no definitive source for how to make romesco, the sauce served with Zarzuela (page 270) and many other Spanish seafood dishes (you can serve it with any simple fish dish you like). I’ve had it cooked and uncooked, and I like it better raw, which may be due in part to the lack of hassle, but I also like the fresher flavor. If you can find a fragrant dried chile, like a pasilla, by all means use it.

Classically used for Cochinita Pibil (page 351), this gorgeous, bright red paste can be smeared on any meat you’re about to roast or grill. Its color belies its flavor, which is not at all hot (though you can throw a chile in there if you like). Annatto—or achiote—is something you’ve probably encountered unknowingly, since it colors processed cheeses, margarine, and lipstick. The triangular, brick-colored seeds of the annatto tree have been especially important in the Yucatán peninsula and South and Central America for centuries; make sure the seeds you buy are bright red, smell earthy or musky, and taste slightly peppery. Whole seeds keep for a year or more in a tightly covered container.

This is similar to Grilled Satay, which follows, only in that it is meat on a stick. But this deep-fried version is crunchier, and the skewer itself is best when made from lemongrass or sugarcane, either of which imparts a subtle aroma to the meat (and gives you something to gnaw on, if your tastes go in that direction). Since the meat is pressed around the skewer like a meatball—the result is kind of a meat lollipop—it needs to be finely minced to hold together well; a food processor does the job perfectly.

Sardines are not sold fresh as often as they might—or should—be. But when they are, and they’re in good shape (make sure they don’t look tired and old), they’re worth grabbing. Fresh anchovies or smelts make a good substitute, again as long as they’re gleaming. All of these little fish may be sold gutted, but if yours are whole, simply make a slit along the belly of each and, under running water, run your finger along the inside cavity to remove the innards. (You can eat them with their guts too, as many Europeans do; they’re delicious that way.) Though I usually “grill” these in the broiler, they can also be cooked over a fire, using a fish basket, just until browned on each side. You can also fry sardines; treat them as you would Fritto Misto (page 94), and serve them with any light tomato sauce, like Fast, Fresh Tomato Sauce (page 606).

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.

A staple of many tapas bars, and among the most elementary of appetizers, this is a surefire crowd pleaser—as long as your crowd isn’t vegetarian. Even if some members are, you can skewer plain mushrooms or mushrooms and other vegetables—like red peppers and zucchini, for example.

I am such a soy sauce fanatic I essentially “invented” this dish before ever having been served it; imagine my surprise to find it is legitimate, basically an egg over easy with an instantly made soy-based sauce. The Chinese name for this popular late-night snack describes the runny center encased by the crisp-fried edges.

A classic Niçoise appetizer that is like fondue—a “warm bath”—of anchovies, garlic, and olive oil (you can use butter in place of some of the olive oil if you’re feeling indulgent), served with fresh raw vegetables. It’s an unusual dish by today’s standards but remains a wonderful combination. A fondue pot is the ideal serving vessel, because it’s important to keep the sauce hot at the table; an earthenware dish that retains heat well will work if you preheat it and serve the Bagna Cauda immediately.

Most cultures enjoy mushrooms, but none treats them more regally than the French. This prime example is best made with lots of butter (not bad with the smaller amount, either, of course) and wild mushrooms. But if you have access only to cultivated mushrooms, combine a couple of varieties—button with shiitake and portobello, for example, and, if possible, a small handful of dried porcini, reconstituted as on page 112. This can also be served as a side dish, especially with poultry.

Chawan-mushi is an egg custard flavored with stock and soy and laced with a number of tasty tidbits. In Tokyo, I had a bowl that contained tiny amounts of myoga (a potent member of the ginger family), shrimp, chicken, ginkgo nut, and yuzu, an Asian citrus fruit. None of these is essential, and you can substitute for any or all of them, as I do here. The fillings, called gu, are supposed to be whatever you have on hand. If you have covered ramekins, they are ideal for this preparation. But covering the pot works just as well.

An inspiration from Tadashi Ono, a talented Japanese chef now living in the United States. Succulent beyond belief and a most refreshing and appetizing starter. Most octopus sold in this country is frozen, which is not necessarily a bad thing. But if you can find fresh, sweet-smelling specimens, by all means use them. In either case, have the fishmonger clean the octopus. (Or do it yourself, by inverting the head and discarding its contents.)

A tapa based on piquillo peppers (see page 47), which are sold in jars and cans at specialty food stores and many supermarkets and are naturals for stuffing.

True Ceviche (page 21) “cooks” fish by marinating it in an acidic dressing. But there is a similar dish in which the fish is simmered in boiling water first; it’s used most frequently with seafood that is tough when raw, but it’s also used—at least in this country—as a form of reassurance. It’s a bit of a cheat, but so what? There is little difference between the texture or quality of fish that has been marinated in lime and that of fish that has been cooked quickly (which is why marinating in lime is perfectly acceptable in the first place). Like all ceviche, this is a great starter.

Unlike common deviled eggs, these, usually served as a tapa, have both texture and more flavor. The shrimp and olives bring a nice saltiness to the dish, which is ideal for a picnic.

This stuff is great, and I have never tasted it in this country except in my own kitchen. I first had it in Turkey, where it was quite spicy, but have since learned that it’s equally acceptable milder. Dried urpa or aleppo pepper, or hot paprika, is the ideal seasoning—a bit of bite but not overwhelming—but judicious use of hot red pepper flakes is also good. You can also omit the heat entirely. This spread can be made hours or even a day in advance. Always, however, serve it at room temperature, never cold. Serve with bread or vegetable sticks; it makes a great sandwich ingredient too.

This is a standard at tapas bars in Spain and a perfect addition to any cocktail party. The salt will adhere to the nuts better if you grind it for a few moments in a food processor or spice or coffee grinder; this gives it a more irregular surface than it usually has.

Salted nuts are made wherever they’re grown and are infinitely better than nuts from a jar or can. Note that these are not fried—there is no additional oil—but roasted. This basic, easy recipe can also be used for whole almonds or hazelnuts.

Carpaccio, now a staple at many high-end restaurants, even non-Italian ones, is a glorified version of this Piemontese specialty (in Tuscany and other parts of central Italy, an even simpler plate of cured meats is served routinely), which will provide a vibrant beginning to any dinner party. This dish depends on the flavor of olive oil, so break out the good stuff. The meat will be easier to cut into small pieces if you put it in the freezer for about half an hour first to firm it up a bit.