Broil

Yet another favorite of ours, this appears on our table in various guises every few weeks. The evaporated milk may seem like an odd choice but it serves a purpose, helping to stabilize the sauce. Evaporated milk is manufactured by exposing fresh milk to high heat in order to evaporate up to 60 percent of its water content. The resulting milk is concentrated in both flavor and nutrients. It usually has added stabilizers in the form of disodium phosphate and carrageenan. Although it is marketed as a substitute for fresh milk, it has a noticeably caramelized flavor that works nicely in sauces and soups. It produces an incredibly creamy sauce without the use of heavy cream or eggs. We’d like to say that we pair this mac and cheese with a salad or a vegetable, but truthfully, we tend to just savor the pasta with a glass of rich red wine or deep red berry juice depending on our age at the table.

This is a recipe for a classic omelet soufflé. It’s a simple yet decadent preparation that shows off the beauty of an egg foam on the plate and the palate. Perfect for breakfast, it also makes a satisfying evening meal when paired with a green salad and some crusty bread.

When Elie Wiesel stopped in Bordaeux to give a speech, he asked members of the Jewish community for suggestions on where to eat. They told him to go to Jean Ramet, a marvelous thirty-seat southwestern-French restaurant. Run by a Jewish chef, it is located right down the street from the eighteenth-century Grand Théâtre. Raised in a Polish Jewish home in France, Jean doesn’t have many culinary memories from his childhood. He grew up in Vichy, where his parents, like so many other Jews returning to France after the war, had priorities other than food. But food became a career for Jean. He apprenticed at the three-star Maison Troisgros in Roanne, learning pastry skills. “Pastry-making gives you discipline; it is very important for a chef,” he told me. “You need the rules of pastry first.” In the 1970s, Jean met Tunisian-born Raymonde Chemla on a youth trip to Israel. They have now been married for more than thirty years, living mostly in Bordeaux, where they run the restaurant. On vacations, they often travel to Morocco, because they love the food of North Africa. “Moroccan food is sincere,” said Jean. “When I met Raymonde, I fell in love with North African spices, such as cinnamon, mint, and cloves.” This gratin of figs with a zabaglione sauce and a splash of orange-flower water is a dish that celebrates North African flavors and classic French techniques. It also captures the essence of the flavor of fresh fig. As the French Jewish sage Rashi so beautifully stated in his commentaries on the Bible, “Summer is the time of the gathering of the figs and the time when they dry them in the fields, and it [the dried fig] is summer.”

Like many French Jews today, Jocelyne Akoun (see page 28) is a cultural amalgam. She grew up in a Turkish-Spanish family that lived in Algeria for many years before immigrating to Marseille. This dish could as easily be Provençal as Algerian, the tomatoes having been added when they came to the Old World with the discovery of the Americas.

When I stayed at La Royante, a charming bed-and-breakfast in Aubagne just outside of Marseille, I tasted the delicious homemade jam from the fig, cherry, and apricot trees near the terrace, and enjoyed the olive oil made from the olives in the orchard. I talked with Xenia and Bernard Saltiel, the owners, and learned that Bernard is Jewish and traces his ancestry in France to about the thirteenth century, when his people became tax collectors for the king of France in Perpignan. Then they went to Narbonne, and finally to Montpellier, where a Saltiel helped found the University of Medicine. When the Jews were expelled from France, the Saltiel family moved to Greece, and lived in Crete, Macedonia, and then Thessalonika. Ever since Bernard’s grandfather returned to France in 1892, Saltiels have lived in the Marseille area. Today Bernard is a man of Provence, sniffing vegetables at the local market in Aubagne to make sure they are fresh enough for a good soupe au pistou. This soup originated in nearby Italy, most probably in Genoa. Provençal Jewish versions include a selection of dried beans as well as fresh green, wax, or fava beans, fresh basil, and an especially strong dose of garlic. Make it in the summer with perfectly ripe tomatoes. In the winter, I substitute good canned tomatoes.

You need medium-sized egglants for this. I use the purple kind, 5 of them, each weighing about 5 ounces, and then cut them, unskinned, into 2” × 1” chunks, each chunk with skin on at least one side. Normally, eggplant chunks require frying first to give them their unctuous, satiny texture, after which they may be folded into a variety of sauces—here it is a tomato sauce. But I have found a less oily way around that; I broil them instead. You serve this dish hot with a lamb or chicken curry or cold, as a salad, with cold meats, Indian (such as Tandoori-Style Chicken with Mint) or Western.

When I was in Pakistan last, there was a very successful grill house in Karachi serving a thousand people per night. Bar-B-Q Tonight, as it was called, offered all manner of meats grilled in a style that is a mixture of Afghan and Pakistani culinary traditions. I have adapted one of their goat meat recipes to lamb. You may use the smaller rib chops or the larger, steak-like shoulder chops. They will have bone, of course, so 2 pounds will serve 2–3 people. You can cook these on an outdoor grill instead of broiling. This recipe may also be used for beef steaks. I love this with Tomato Pullao and Pan-Grilled Zucchini. I make the rice first and let it sit wrapped up in a towel while I grill the kebabs and the zucchini.

Apart from serving these kebabs, freshly grilled and hot, at mealtimes, when they are always popular, I find that if I refrigerate the cooked kebabs overnight and then put them into a hamper for a picnic, they are equally loved outdoors and hold well. In fact, if properly wrapped and refrigerated, they will hold for a good 5–6 days, making them perfect for an impromptu cold meal. For a hot meal, serve with a rice dish and Indian vegetables. For a picnic, serve with salads and crusty French bread.

This is a basic Indian kebab recipe that has probably not changed much since the sixteenth century except for the addition of chilies and what is now the ubiquitous chaat masala, a mixture of hot and sour spices that most Indians just buy in the market. The use of mustard oil is interesting—I have seen it used for kebabs in both India and Pakistan. Both countries have a Punjab, as that state, today on India’s western border and Pakistan’s eastern border, was split into two when the British partitioned India. Chaat masala can be bought at any Indian grocery. It is a spice mixture containing sour mango powder, roasted cumin, cayenne, and other seasonings. It adds a spicy sourness but is not essential. Just sprinkle a dash of cayenne, and some roasted ground cumin seeds, if available, over the top and add some squirts of lime juice. I like to have these with Rice Pilaf with Almonds and Raisins and Sweet-and-Sour Eggplant.

Here you simply marinate eggplant slices in a spicy dressing and then grill them. When serving (hot or cold), spoon a dollop of yogurt seasoned with fresh mint on the top. It is cool and refreshing.

These very thin, soft breads, which you can roll up, are like Bedouin skillet breads. They work very well for me in a skillet, and I finish them under a broiler, but you can also bake them. For the topping, you can buy ready-made zaatar mixtures, which contain thyme and the tangy spice sumac, in Middle Eastern stores. You need only add olive oil. But it is easy enough to make your own zaatar mix at home. My favorite is simply thyme and sesame seeds with salt and olive oil. The quantities here make for a richer than usual topping. Serve the breads for breakfast, with labneh (see page 112), as a snack with a salad, or as an appetizer, cut into wedges.

The best eggplants to use for this are white-fleshed with no seeds.

Hardly any dishes were invented by restaurant chefs in Turkey, but this one was, by a man called Iskander; that is why it is also known as Iskander kebab. It made its appearance in the 1920s, after the Ottoman Empire had crumbled and Turkey became a republic. The cooks who had worked in the palace kitchens and in the homes of the aristocracy (much of the aristocracy moved to Egypt) became unemployed and looked for ways to survive. Many of them opened restaurants—lokandesi and kebab houses. This dish has remained a mainstay of Turkish kebab houses, where it is sometimes served dramatically in a dome-shaped copper dish—the type that was used at the palace. On one level it reflects the preponderance of yogurt in the Turkish kitchen. I serve it in deep individual clay bowls which can be kept hot in the oven. It is a multi-layered extravaganza. There is toasted pita bread at the bottom. It is covered by a light sauce made with fresh tomatoes, topped by a layer of yogurt. This is sprinkled with olive oil which has been colored with paprika and with pine nuts. Skewers of grilled ground meat kofta or small burgers (as in this recipe) are laid on top. The tomato sauce and the meat must be very hot when you assemble the dish. The yogurt should be at room temperature.

Algerians serve deep-fried Dover sole over a bed of shakshouka, but other flat fish, such as lemon or gray sole or flounder, are excellent with the sautéed Mediterranean vegetables— and they can be broiled.

Red mullet is so highly rated it is called Sultan Ibrahim in the Arab world. In Turkey it is called barbunya. In this dish, which is simple to make and beautiful to offer, grape leaves keep the fish moist and impart a delicate flavor. You may use fresh or preserved leaves. If the grape leaves are fresh, scald them in boiling water for a moment or two, until they flop, then dip them quickly in cold water so as to preserve their color. If they are preserved in brine, soak them in hot water for 1/2 hour to remove the salt, changing the water once, then rinse them.

In Tunisia, where egg dishes are ubiquitous, they call this a tajin because it is cooked in a clay dish of that name. It can be eaten hot or cold.