Fry

Anyone who has shelled a bag of peas will know how good they are raw. Far too little is made of their scrunchy sweetness, and I put forward the pod-fresh raw pea as an idea to throw into salads of pale yellow butterhead lettuce, cracked wheat, or dishes of cooked fava beans. They work in their uncooked state only when very young and small. Old peas are mealy and sour. One rainy lunchtime in June, I put them into a simple salad of Peter Rabbit lettuce, crisply cooked smoked bacon, and hand-torn ciabatta. The result—restrained, refreshing, and somehow quintessentially English.

This sounds too spartan a recipe to be true but, when cooked slowly in butter, the leeks take on a deep sweetness that makes these cakes so much more than the sum of their simple parts. They are great with broiled bacon or cold roast beef.

A fantastic little recipe, cheap, simple, and fast. I usually have some bread with this, if only to rub round the plate afterwards. This is best on very hot plates.

Jerusalem artichokes share with the potato an ability to drink up both dressings and the fat in which they cook. Roll a still-warm steamed artichoke or potato in a sharp oil and vinegar dressing and it will soak up the liquid like a sponge. It is this quality that makes them a candidate for cooking in luxurious mediums such as bacon fat or, better still, duck fat. This contemporary twist on the sautéed potato is, as you might expect, something with which to garnish a steak. An ice-crisp salad of winter leaves (Belgian endive, radicchio, frisée, maybe) would slice the edge off its richness.

Bubble and squeak is an iconic British dish made by frying leftover boiled potatoes and cabbage to make a large, flat potato cake that is crisp outside and soft within. Bubble and squeak can be as simple as the traditional leftover cabbage and potato fry-up or somewhat more sophisticated, with the introduction of cheese, smoked pork, fish, or other vegetables. The bells-and-whistles versions can often successfully disguise the fact that your supper is made from stuff you found at the back of the fridge. Keeping the potato pieces quite coarse makes the texture more interesting.

Vegetable fritters, given a savory edge with a flavorsome farmhouse cheese, are just the job for a quick lunch. Cheap eating, too. Grate the carrots as finely or as coarsely as you like, but you can expect them to be more fragile in the pan when finely grated. A watercress salad, washed, dried, and dressed with olive oil and lemon juice, would be refreshing and appropriate in every possible way.

Broccoli doesn’t stir-fry well from raw. The beaded crown—the tight flower buds—tends to burn before the stem even approaches tenderness. Heads that have been briefly blanched in boiling water will, however, stir-fry deliciously, soaking up the ginger and soy or whatever other seasoning you might throw at them. In the last year or two I have taken to adding them to stir-fries of ground lamb or pork, letting the meat thoroughly caramelize in the thin pan before adding the greens. It’s a very quick, bright-tasting supper, invigorating and toothsome. But you do need to be brave with the meat, letting it glisten and almost crisp before you add the rest of the ingredients.

The chickpea possesses a dry, earthy quality and a knobbly texture that I find endlessly useful and pleasing to eat. No other member of the legume family has quite the same mealy, warm nuttiness. This is the bean I want bubbling on the stove when there is pouring rain outside, filling the kitchen with its curiously homey steam as it slowly simmers its way to tenderness. Unlike its more svelte cousins, the flageolet and the cannellini, the chickpea is almost impossible to overcook. The length of time it takes to soften rules it out of weekday cooking for me, so I sometimes resort to opening a can. Chickpeas, often labeled ceci or garbanzo, leave their can relatively unharmed, which is more than you can say for a flageolet. They make good patties that you can season with cumin, chile, garlic, sesame, or coriander and fry until lightly crisp on the outside. Chickpea patties need a little texture if they are to be of interest. I process them only so far, leaving them with a texture that is partly as smooth as hummus with, here and there, a little crunchiness. The patty mixture needs a good ten minutes to rest before cooking. To calm the garlic notes, I spoon over a sauce of yogurt, grated cucumber, and mint or a similar one of shredded beets, taking care not to overmix it to a lurid pink.

Galangal is a root that looks like ginger but has a sweet, perfumed taste. Find it fresh (the best choice), frozen, or powdered in Asian markets or gourmet food stores. The citrusy herb lemongrass can be grown from a store-bought stalk; place it in water on the windowsill until it sprouts before transferring it to a pot with soil. These rich fritters need a sweet, tangy sauce; if you don’t have time to make Tamarind Ketchup as the recipe calls for, use the simple Cilantro-Jalapeño Sauce (page 184), or whisk store-bought ketchup with honey, lime juice, and salt.

When I was growing up, my mother would make a special treat of fried matzoh, or matzoh brei, during Passover. My sister and I always looked forward to it; it was even better than French toast, its fluffier cousin. Try making this in spring, when matzoh is easy to find in stores.

Serve these fragrant Indian-spiced cakes with sweet and tangy Cilantro-Jalapeño Sauce (page 184) to set off their flavor, and Cucumber Yogurt (page 184) for a creamy contrast. For a hearty lunch, perch a few cakes on top of a green salad, or pack them into a pita pocket along with shredded vegetables.

The funny thing about gyoza is that I never cooked them—until I moved to America. Back home I always went out for these extremely popular, garlic-infused pan-fried dumplings, which have a special place in the hearts of Japanese. When I arrived in America, gyoza was one of the comfort foods I missed the most, so I started cooking them at home. That’s when I realized how easy it is to prepare perfect gyoza: they simply need a fragrant, juicy, flavor-packed filling; crispy skin on the bottom and silky skin on top; and a spicy dipping sauce. Now my kids and I love to make homemade gyoza together. This recipe is the classic pork-filled version that I grew up with. Keep in mind that you can conveniently freeze uncooked gyoza for up to a month. To prepare, follow the fry-steam technique below with the frozen dumplings—no need to defrost. Just extend the cooking time by 3 minutes. Note: You can also prepare this dish without pork belly. Just substitute more ground pork (1 pound total). But I love using pork belly here because it adds so much flavor and richness to the gyoza.

What I love about this recipe is how well fresh Italian pasta works combined with these Asian flavors. It’s a true crossover dish, the pasta adding wonderful flavor and texture to the earthy and spicy notes in the sauce. Pork and eggplant is a natural combination that reminds me of Sichuan cuisine. Chinese eggplants, by the way, have a delicate skin, so when you peel them you can leave on some strips of skin for aesthetic purposes. This stir-fried dish is unwieldy to cook for four servings, so prepare it in two batches.

In Japan, these crispy pan-fried rolls run a close second to gyoza as a favorite side dish to a steaming bowl of ramen. Harumaki is often prepared with shrimp or pork, but I like using beef, which beautifully complements the layers of flavors in this recipe. Besides, the irresistible combination of beef and peppers reminds me of my adopted hometown of Chicago’s famous Italian beef sandwiches. Harumaki also freezes well. The trick is to assemble the rolls completely before sticking them in the freezer. You can even fry the harumaki while the filling is still frozen. I always keep some frozen rolls on hand for an impromptu midnight snack.

To tell you the truth, I first created this dish by accident, when I added lamb instead of beef by mistake. But when I tasted it, I realized it was no mistake! Lamb might not be a traditional Japanese ingredient, but it’s delicious when mixed with these Asian flavors and vegetables. If you prefer beef, though, you can always use that instead. Follow the fresh Egg Pasta recipe on page 112, but leave out the optional squid ink.

One of Thailand’s signature dishes, pad thai is as popular in Japan as it is here in America. Rice noodles are easy to overcook, so be sure to prepare this dish in small batches. If you do want to serve four people, prepare enough ingredients for four servings (including doubling the sauce), but cook the recipe in two batches, one after the other. Also, use a nonstick skillet, if possible, because rice noodles can stick to a regular pan.

Saifun bean threads are more toothsome and chewier than rice noodles, so they’re perfect for stir-frying, like in this recipe. I created this recipe for two servings; if you want to prepare it for four, just cook in two batches. I’ve combined these noodles with a spicy, tangy sauce and delicious beef short ribs.

Tempura soba is a delicious and satisfying lunchtime favorite in Japan, served both at home and in restaurants across the country. Tempura has a long history in the country. The cooking method was introduced by the Portuguese in the sixteenth century and has been refined into a uniquely Japanese food ever since. Make sure you eat this dish quickly, while the soba is still steaming and the tempura is hot and crispy. The way we enjoy this dish in Japan is to dip the tempura into the soba broth as we eat it. This serves two purposes: First, the broth flavors the tempura, acting as a dipping sauce. And second, the tempura returns the favor, adding richness to the broth while its crumbs add texture. So we have both foods working together to create an irresistible whole!

Zucchini blossoms are an ingredient that always catches my eye in the early summertime, especially at the farmers’ markets here in my hometown of Chicago. They inspired me to come up with this recipe, my own interpretation of the classic stuffed zucchini blossoms of both Italian and Japanese cuisines. In this dish, I stuff the flowers with onion and shrimp, then fry them as tempura, a combination of flavors and textures that complements the toothsome soba.