Gluten Free

This Indonesian plate of blanched vegetables, boiled eggs, and tofu is served with a spicy, tangy, and slightly sweet peanut sauce for drizzling and dipping. Add salty-savory shrimp chips for scooping.

This peanut sauce recipe is based on my mom's version, which accompanies Gado Gado. Raw peanuts are roasted on the stovetop or in the oven, and then ground. You'll also have to hunt down tamarind pulp and lime leaves, but it's worth the trouble—the addition of freshly roasted peanuts and fragrant herbs makes for unsurpassed flavor.

Sharp and sweet, rhubarb and beets were made for one another, and this soup is a fitting celebration of their union.

I long for the flavor of tamales de elote, made with puréed fresh corn kernels. But our starchy, flavorful Mexican corn cannot be replaced with United States sweet corn, which creates a terribly insipid, watery effect. So I evolved something a little different using a regular masa mixture with fresh corn kernels and seasonings beaten in.

Though the amount of salt may seem excessive, a lot of the salt will be lost when the mixture is steamed inside the tamal wrapping. You can reduce the amount somewhat, but remember that the particular flavor of masa in tamales is complemented by salt.

This smoky chipotle and tomatillo salsa is an excellent dipping sauce for crudités or tortilla chips, or you can spoon it on top of tamales. You can use more chiles for a spicier sauce.

The double-flip method makes the tortillas puff beautifully once you get the rhythm.

It’s a shame you don't often spot people grilling carrots, because they also grill beautifully, developing a char that balances out their sweetness.

The Thai-inspired dressing—tart and spicy and salty—plays up the sweetness of watermelon and berries while keeping the fruit salad firmly in savory territory.

Low and slow is more than just grillmaster jargon; it’s also an invaluable currency when it comes to grilling truly tender pork spareribs.

The underlying notes of vanilla and nutmeg—found in Coca-Cola—are layered with piquant aromatics and tangy tomato ketchup to produce a barbecue sauce that's remarkably dynamic. 

This barbecue sauce recipe combines bright ginger and sharp Dijon mustard.

Butter mochi is a mainstay at any island party: a perfectly chewy, slightly sticky, and just-dense-enough coconut-custard glutinous rice cake.

Requesón is a salty, spreadable Mexican cheese that tastes like a creamier, more acidic version of ricotta. Making it from scratch is easy: You curdle milk with vinegar or another acid such as lime juice, and then warm it and watch the curds form. Most street vendors use it as a tlacoyo filling, but you can use requesón for all sorts of things—stirred into scrambled eggs and tomatoes, smeared into a corn tortilla with salsa, or spread onto a piece of toast with honey or mixed in a dip of fresh herbs and olive oil.

Avocado leaves are the aroma of Oaxaca, and they are the main flavor in this indispensable staple. So many things can be created out of this little bean paste flavored with anise-y avocado tree leaves. It is the base for memelas, tlayudas, molletes, enfrijoladas, and so much more. Growing up, we stopped at the market in Tlacolula—a small village located near Oaxaca City—just to buy the paste, already made, in little plastic bags. You buy some tasajo, you grill it, you get some fresh tlayudas, some salsa, and then you spread some of this paste all over your tortilla like it is a savory cake frosting.

Chances are, if you're not Oaxaqueño and grew up in this last generation in Mexico or the United States, you’ve probably been taught to think that pork fat like aciento—Oaxacan-style chicharrón paste—is not good for you, and that you should always cook and eat things made with a plant-based oil instead. It’s normal to think this way. That is, until you go to Oaxaca and see that aciento is a way of life and that a lot of elders live to be more than one hundred years old eating the stuff on a daily basis. You’ll also realize that it is amazingly flavorful and really completes a lot of masa-based Oaxacan dishes such as tlayudas, memelas, empanadas, and chochoyotes. Think of it as a Oaxacan brown butter. If you do it right, it should taste nutty and toasty, not like lard or like fat. I also understand that a lot of people may not have the time to properly render chicharrón into a paste, so this shortcut version using olive oil is much quicker and tastes almost as good. If you can’t find or don’t have access to fresh chicharrón, American-style pork rinds also work well.

The two imperatives are that the tomatoes must be truly ripe and sweet and that the sauce should be eaten at once. If you must, you can hold it for up to two hours refrigerated and tightly covered, but it loses its magic fast. For the right slightly coarse texture, the ingredients should be chopped separately by hand. The only thing I sometimes do with the food processor is the chiles. Try to find fresh ones—canned jalapeños will work, but aren't ideal in a sauce supposed to be sparkling fresh.

Make coconut sticky rice in the microwave for creamy, perfectly tender results in under 10 minutes. Serve it with shredded coconut, toasted sesame seeds, and of course, ripe mango slices.

Ripe nectarines roast until they're tender and caramelized before they’re placed on a bed of tangy Greek yogurt. Everything gets topped with a drizzle of olive oil and honey—and a sprinkle of nuts and herbs.

If Thai food were laid out as one of those nutritional pyramids they showed you in health class, green papaya salad would be at the bottom, right above rice. In other words: It is fundamental.