Poach

“Russian Sauce” is probably the origin of Russian dressing, though the two no longer have much in common; still, the pickles and capers mark the relationship. This is most traditionally made with sturgeon (which is a wonderfully sturdy and flavorful fish) but can be made with any firm white fillet, from carp, catfish, or sturgeon to red snapper, sea bass, or grouper. Serve with boiled potatoes or plain white rice.

Caraway seeds have too long been relegated to the tops of rye bread; their bitter, nutty flavor is distinctive and easy to like.Here they dominate a simple Romanian sauce used for fish. To crush the seeds, put them in a plastic bag and press on it with the bottom of a pot—really lean into it, rock back and forth a bit, and you’ll get it. If you can lay your hands on crusty rye or pumpernickel bread, this is the place for it. Salad or any simple vegetable dish, along with rice if you don’t have or want bread, would also be good.

The ideal fish for this Norman preparation is Dover sole—the real thing, a fish with great flavor and unmatched texture. But this isn’t an ideal world—you’re unlikely to find Dover sole and equally unlikely to want to pay the asking price if you do. Fortunately, cod is a good substitute. In fact, as long as you don’t overcook it, it’s fantastic here. Any firm but not tough white fillet will also work: red snapper and black sea bass are excellent choices. If you can pick up mussels at the same time, by all means go for the variation; the broth and overall results will be improved markedly. In Normandy, this would inevitably be accompanied by a potato gratin like the one on page 482 and, if you were lucky, a salad.

This is a mild, rich side dish, one that can double as a sauce for buttered noodles or rice (it can be served on toast too). With chanterelles or other wild mushrooms, it’s a dream, but even with button mushrooms it’s super. If you have spring onions, this is the place to use them; otherwise, leeks are a great substitute.

There were two things I couldn’t get enough of in Vietnam: crunchy lemongrass dishes and caramel sauce dishes. Here’s one of the latter, in which the caramel sauce—essentially melted sugar, which becomes oddly bitter while retaining its sticky sweetness as it browns—is used to poach the fish. Make sure you use lots of black pepper, which is one of the characteristic seasonings of Vietnam, and serve this unusual, delicious dish with Basic Long-Grain Rice (page 506). Information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla) is on page 500.

Not surprisingly—Vietnamese food is only occasionally hot—this isn’t as blistering as the vegetarian Thai version on page 174. You can buy Vietnamese chili garlic paste at any store selling Asian ingredients; it keeps nearly forever in the refrigerator. Fish sauces like nam pla and nuoc mam are discussed on page 500. Palm sugar is available at many Asian markets, but brown sugar is indistinguishable in flavor.

A great cool salad, especially wonderful if you use fresh horseradish. (If you never have, buy just a small piece of the root, which looks like a tree root; peel and grate it, being careful not to get any of its juices in your eyes.) You can prepare the fish and dressing ahead of time and toss together immediately before serving.

In most parts of the world, and certainly throughout the Mediterranean, seafood salad is as simple as this: you dress some poached fish with olive oil and loads of lemon. (Actually some people prefer vinegar, and it’s certainly traditional in many places, but I always go with lemon if I have it.) If you want to make it more elaborate, you add poached vegetables or serve it on a bed of greens. So view this simple recipe as a guideline, not as dogma; use whatever fish you have, a variety or something as simple and common as shrimp. Add vegetables and vary the seasonings if you like. It will be fine any way you do it.

Think of asparagus with mayonnaise but with a very sharp (and relatively low-fat) twist. As in most recipes for poached asparagus, thick spears are best; they retain some of their crispness while becoming tender. Those that weigh an ounce or more each—that is, eight to sixteen per pound—are the best. Their only disadvantage is that they must be peeled before cooking to remove the relatively tough skin. Fortunately, it’s an easy job, with either a vegetable peeler or a paring knife.

You can poach dried figs, of course, but fresh ones achieve a kind of swollen, bursting tenderness that is sublimely sensual. Green figs, not quite fully ripe, are best for this purpose, but the more common Black Mission figs—also not quite ripe—are almost as good.

More luxurious than the following recipe and great served hot, with a little sour cream or crème fraîche.

A light, appealing dessert that is a French classic. You may simply serve the pears after poaching them but the browning is a very nice touch. Pinot Noir is the ideal wine for this, but any fruity, not-too-tannic red will do.

These sticky, sweet dumplings, which are easier to produce than most savory dumplings, are served at New Year’s festivities throughout East and Southeast Asia. Palm sugar and glutinous rice flour can be found at most Asian markets.

Poached chicken served with salsa verde or another piquant sauce is common in Italy, and this is a perfect example of cultural blending between Italian and American styles. Today in America, Chef Fortunato Nicotra often makes this dish at our restaurant Felidia. It is light and yet very tasty, especially for lunch. I like it over an arugula salad, but he serves it on top of a light fresh-tomato sauce as well. It is delicious both ways.

Poached veal tongue is one of the ingredients in the classical Italian dish bollito misto, boiled mixed meats. It is one of my favorite dishes, but even without the other four or five meats I enjoy the poached tongue. The brining somewhat cures the meat and makes it retain the lively pinkish color throughout.

The way I roast turkey, I never stuff it. Instead, for holidays and special occasions when a turkey needs a special dressing, I make a gnoccho grande, a large loaf-shaped dumpling of bread crumbs, eggs, seasonings, and festive tidbits of dried fruits and nuts, wrapped in cheesecloth and poached in broth. Since I usually cook a big pot of turkey broth the day before I roast the turkey (to have plenty for the roasting pan), I’ll poach the gnoccho grande while it’s bubbling away. The next time you make turkey broth, try this wonderful big dumpling. It’s a great accompaniment to any poultry or meat dish, not just turkey, and a fine soup garnish, or cook it in the broth from Whole Poached Chicken (page 328).

I know that “boiled” anything is not a popular concept these days (one reason I call this “poached”), but don’t disdain or neglect this elemental dish. It is still one of the easiest and most satisfying one-pot meals we can give our families. It’s also faster to make than ever: the big birds I buy—plump, meaty, and best when organically raised—are thoroughly cooked, tender, and moist after barely 45 minutes in the broth. When you really want to make it festive, substitute a capon for the chicken. And with markets that offer an unprecedented array of produce and herbs in all seasons, we can surround the chicken with a greater variety of vegetables than our great-great-grandmothers ever had at one time. In this recipe, I’ve loaded the pot with seven hearty and aromatic vegetables (almost 5 pounds’ worth), but you can certainly choose others or vary the amounts. Just cut enough vegetables overall to give everyone a bountiful serving, drizzling the meat and vegetables with some extra-virgin olive oil and a few grains of sea salt to make it complete. But I also hope you’ll top each portion, as I do, with a dollop of salsa verde, a traditional condiment for boiled foods. The bright, acidic flavor and fresh, uncooked texture of the finely chopped salsa are a perfect counterpoint to the poached meat and vegetables—it makes a meal of boiled chicken exciting as well as comforting.

Many people love eggplant but dread the frying of it and don’t like all the oil the eggplant absorbs. I am a lifelong eggplant lover, but I do like to eat—and cook for my family—in a healthy way. So I like this preparation, which gives you all the good flavor of eggplant without the frying: you poach small eggplant wedges in water and red wine vinegar, then season and marinate them in fresh mint, garlic, and drizzles of olive oil. After an hour, the layers of bright flavor in each slice are developed and you have a delicious and versatile dish. The wedges are a treat by themselves and a fine complement to many other dishes; see below.