nibbles for any time of day
You might think this section is all about hors d’oeuvres or tidbits to go with drinks before dinner, and in a way, you would be right. Indeed, any of the following little dishes would be welcome served that way. But I imagine them for the kind of informal, sitting-around-the-table nibbling that happens at other times of day, whenever friends and family gather. After all, a gathering is not a gathering without a little something good to eat.
The verb “to snack,” for some reason, has a negative connotation these days. Constant admonitions: No snacking between meals. No “snack food,” which is presumably the same as “junk food.” But didn’t a snack used to be something good? As in, are you hungry?—let me make you a little snack. Or, better have a snack, dinner is hours away. Even the proverbial midnight snack doesn’t have to mean something bad. A good snack, for me, should generate a little excitement, and if there’s something communal and hands-on about it, so much the better.
I recently served these nuts to friends. “Fabulous,” they marveled. “Where did you get them?” “I didn’t get them, I made them,” I responded. And so can you. My two favorite oven-roasted nuts are Salted Almonds with Rosemary—utterly simple, but they taste meaty, and a bit smoky—and Cashews with Indian Spices—buttery, piquant, and aromatic. Chinese Boiled Peanuts, on the other hand, are not at all crisp or crunchy, but they are quite flavorful from simmering with star anise, chiles, cinnamon, and soy. They make a fine snack with a cold beer and are also delicious sprinkled over steamed rice. Makes a small bowlful (about 1¼ cups)
salted almonds with rosemary
½ pound natural (unblanched) raw almonds
2 or 3 rosemary sprigs
Sea salt
1 tablespoon olive oil
Pinch of pimentón (optional)
Heat the oven to 400°F. Put the almonds in a shallow baking dish, sprinkle with 1 tablespoon water, and toss to moisten. Strip the rosemary leaves from the stems and add them. Add a generous pinch of sea salt and mix with your fingers to combine. Drizzle the almonds with the olive oil, toss once more, and spread in an even layer.
Roast the almonds for 10 to 15 minutes, stirring occasionally for even browning. Take care not to get them too dark—check them frequently, since you don’t want them on the verge of burnt. The interior should be golden brown. Sprinkle with a little pimentón, if you wish. Serve warm or at room temperature.
cashews with indian spices
½ teaspoon coriander seeds
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
½ pound natural raw cashews
2 tablespoons melted butter
¼ teaspoon cayenne
¼ teaspoon turmeric
Sea salt
Heat the oven to 400°F. Toast the coriander and cumin seeds in a small dry pan over medium-high heat until fragrant, about 1 minute. Coarsely grind in a spice grinder or with a mortar and pestle.
Spread the cashews in an even layer in a shallow baking dish. Roast for 7 to 10 minutes until barely golden. Drizzle with the melted butter, then sprinkle with the toasted spices, cayenne, and turmeric. Season generously with sea salt and toss to coat. Serve warm or at room temperature.
chinese boiled peanuts
½ pound shelled raw peanuts
¼ cup soy sauce
½ cup packed dark brown sugar
2 or 3 whole star anise
2 or 3 dried red chile peppers
A 1-inch piece of cinnamon stick
Put the peanuts in a small stainless steel or other nonreactive pot, add the soy sauce, sugar, star anise, chile peppers, cinnamon, and 2 cups water, and bring to a boil, then adjust to a gentle simmer. Cook, covered, for 2 hours.
Turn off the heat and let the peanuts cool in their liquid. Drain before serving, but reserve the liquid to store any leftovers (keep refrigerated).
A common British pub snack is an egg boiled and served in its shell with celery salt. Of course, the better the egg, the better the snack. Recently I was served a perfect version at St. John, Fergus Henderson’s restaurant in London, where they pounded their own aromatics for the flavored salt.
I like to do something similar with quail eggs, using a salt mixture brightened with cumin and cayenne pepper. Quail eggs are quite beautiful served in their speckled shells, so just have everyone peel his or her own, and pass the salt for dipping. The spicy cumin salt is also delicious sprinkled over raw vegetables or any number of other things. Serves 4 to 6
18 quail eggs
2 teaspoons cumin seeds
¼ cup coarse sea salt
Large pinch of cayenne
Bring 4 cups water to a rapid boil in a medium saucepan. Add the quail eggs and cook for 2½ minutes. Immediately cool them in a bowl of ice water for 5 minutes, then drain well and put them in an attractive serving bowl.
Toast the cumin seeds in a dry pan over medium-high heat until fragrant, a minute or so. Coarsely grind the cumin in a spice mill or with a mortar and pestle. Transfer to a small dish, add the salt and cayenne, and stir together.
Pass the eggs and the cumin salt at the table, so each diner can peel and season his or her own.
This luscious juxtaposition of sliced tomatoes and hard-cooked egg with well-seasoned handmade mayonnaise reminds me of two classic old-school dishes. One is a traditional Russian salad, a mixture of cold cooked vegetables lightly bound with mayonnaise and sometimes spooned into halved tomatoes. The other is the French oeuf mayonnaise, the simple bistro standby of hard-cooked egg with mayonnaise and nothing more, except perhaps a lettuce leaf. When well made, both are sensational.
You must have sweet ripe tomatoes and good, fresh farm-raised eggs. And as for the mayonnaise, it’s well worth learning how to make, and not nearly the chore you may imagine it to be. Store-bought really doesn’t compare and ought not be substituted here. Serves 4 to 6
For the mayonnaise
1 large egg yolk
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
½ cup vegetable oil
Juice of ½ lemon
½ cup olive oil
Salt and pepper
Pinch of cayenne
Red wine vinegar
For the salad
4 large eggs
2 pounds small ripe tomatoes
Salt and pepper
1 tablespoon thinly sliced chives
Tarragon or chervil sprigs
To make the mayonnaise, put the egg yolk and mustard in a small bowl and whisk together (see Note). Slowly whisk in the vegetable oil, a teaspoon at a time at first, to form an emulsion, then continue adding oil in a thin stream, whisking constantly, until the mixture has thickened. Whisk in the lemon juice (this will thin the sauce), then carry on whisking in the olive oil. The mayonnaise should have the texture of softly whipped cream; thin with more lemon juice and a few drops of water if necessary. Season with salt and pepper, the cayenne, and a few drops of red wine vinegar.
To make the salad, bring a small pot of water to a rapid boil. Carefully lower the eggs into the water, reduce the heat, and simmer for 8 to 9 minutes. Drain and immediately place in ice water to cool. Drain and peel.
Slice the tomatoes about ½ inch thick and place in one layer on a large platter. Season with salt and pepper. Put a spoonful of mayonnaise on each tomato slice. Top with the eggs, quartered or rough-chopped, and sprinkle with the chives. Garnish with the tarragon sprigs.
Note: Although I prefer to whisk the mayonnaise by hand, it’s fine to use a handheld mixer, blender, or other device. If you do, you will probably need to thin the sauce with a little more water.
If you want something light and tasty to offer your guests with drinks or tea, try this colorful vegetarian sushi rice salad. It is seasoned with a rice vinegar dressing, then sprinkled with sesame seeds, shiso, and cucumber. Everyone simply wraps a spoonful of the rice in a small piece of nori, for a casual hands-on snack. It is not difficult to make respectable sushi rice at home. Just make sure not to overcook it—you want firm grains, so be sure to cool the rice as soon as it is done. Serves 4 to 6
2 cups sushi rice
A 2-inch square of dried kombu, rinsed
3 tablespoons rice vinegar
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon mirin
½ pound seedless cucumber, peeled and cut into thin half-moons
2 tablespoons snipped shiso leaves
1 tablespoon Fresh-Pickled Ginger (page 98), finely chopped
2 teaspoons toasted sesame seeds
6 scallions, thinly slivered
Toasted nori sheets
Wash the rice well and drain. Bring 2½ cups water to a boil in a small pot, add the rice and kombu, and let simmer for 1 minute. Put on the lid, turn the heat to low, and cook for 15 minutes. Remove the rice from the heat and let rest, covered, for 5 minutes. Transfer the rice to a baking sheet and spread it out so that it cools quickly to room temperature.
While the rice is cooking, combine the rice vinegar, sugar, salt, and mirin in a small saucepan, bring to a simmer, and simmer for 1 minute. Let cool.
Put the rice in a wide shallow bowl. Pour the seasoned vinegar over and fluff gently with two wooden spoons. Garnish with the cucumber, and sprinkle with the shiso, pickled ginger, sesame seeds, and scallions. Serve with the toasted nori sheets for making simple hand rolls.
Feta cheese (left) and goat cheese (right)
Throughout the Mediterranean, cheesemakers have traditionally preserved their fresh cheeses in jars of olive oil, often with the addition of wild herb branches. It is a glorious snack to make at home. After only a few days in a flavorful marinade, it’s ready to eat with a good crusty loaf or with Real Garlic Toast (page 18). Make sure to get a little herby oil in each bite. Cheese in a jar is handy to take on a picnic too—and just as nice for an indoor picnic at the kitchen table. Serves 4 to 6
½ pound fresh goat cheese log or mild feta
A few thyme branches
A few rosemary sprigs
A bay leaf
2 garlic cloves, halved
A few black peppercorns
About 1 cup olive oil
Slice the cheese into 2-inch chunks. Carefully layer the cheese in a clean jar or glass bowl, adding the thyme branches, rosemary sprigs, bay leaf, garlic, and peppercorns as you go. Pour over enough olive oil to cover. Seal tightly and refrigerate for at least several days before serving. This keeps, refrigerated, for up to 1 month.
I discovered the method for these salady spears quite accidentally one day when I was preparing traditional fermented dill pickles. I happened to nibble on a cucumber spear only an hour after the seasoning went on. To my surprise, it already tasted really good in its not-quite-pickled state. Now if I want something pickle-like in a hurry, I make these. It’s simple: just cucumbers, garlic, salt, red pepper flakes, vinegar (sometimes a bit of lime juice too), and herbs.
These cucumbers are crisp and neither too salty nor too acidic. Good for a snack, or on a relish plate, they’re really a step up from “crudités.” Make a batch, eat them an hour later or the next day. Serves 4 to 6
1½ pounds small cucumbers, such as kirbys or Persians
Salt and pepper
3 garlic cloves, very thinly sliced
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes
½ teaspoon thyme leaves
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
1 tablespoon chopped dill, tarragon, or parsley
Juice of 1 lime
Peel the cucumbers and cut them into spears. Put them in a porcelain, glass, or stainless steel bowl and season generously with salt and pepper. Add the garlic, red pepper flakes, thyme, and vinegar and toss well. Let marinate for at least an hour, chilled.
Just before serving, add the chopped dill and lime juice and toss.
A common Moroccan salad is made with cooked and coarsely mashed carrots. I first learned about it reading Paula Wolfert’s cookbooks, then sampled it during my own travels to North Africa. Sparked with lemon and fragrant with toasted spices, it’s an easy dish to love. Look for preserved lemons at Middle Eastern groceries or make your own. Serves 4 to 6
2 pounds carrots, peeled
Salt and pepper
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
½ teaspoon coriander seeds
3 tablespoons lemon juice
½ teaspoon garlic, smashed to a paste with a little salt
1 teaspoon grated ginger
Large pinch of cayenne
¼ cup olive oil
2 to 3 ounces feta cheese or ricotta salata, crumbled
A handful of olives
1 small preserved lemon, rinsed, pulp removed and discarded, rind diced (optional)
2 tablespoons chopped cilantro
1 tablespoon thinly sliced scallion
Put the carrots in a pot of well-salted water, bring to a simmer, and cook until tender, about 15 minutes. Drain and cool to room temperature.
Toast the cumin and coriander seeds in a small dry pan over medium-high heat until fragrant, about 1 minute. Coarsely grind the seeds in a spice mill or with a mortar and pestle.
To make the vinaigrette, put the lemon juice in a small bowl, and season with salt and pepper. Add the cumin and coriander seeds, garlic, ginger, and cayenne. Whisk in the olive oil.
Put the carrots in a bowl and, using a potato masher, crush them a bit, leaving them fairly chunky. Dress with the vinaigrette and transfer to a serving platter. Garnish with the crumbled cheese and olives. Sprinkle with the preserved lemon, if using, the cilantro, and scallion.
I love cold chicken: cold roast chicken, cold fried chicken, perhaps especially cold boiled chicken. It is a most welcome snack on a hot day.
This is an easy dish, put together in minutes and abandoned for an hour over a low flame. Try to cook it a day ahead and let its flavors deepen with a night in the fridge. To serve, sprinkle the ice-cold jellied chicken with sesame oil and scallions, then give it a squeeze of lime. If you want something extra, add cucumber, avocado, and crisp lettuce leaves. Or take off the skin, shred the chicken, and have it with cold noodles.
Buy the best chicken you can, even if it costs more (it will). Factory chickens always taste flabby, no matter what you do. Choose a free-range bird for the flavor, the food politics, and, not least, the meaty thighs. Serves 4 to 6
6 large bone-in chicken thighs (about 2 pounds)
Salt and pepper
A 2-inch piece of ginger, peeled and thickly sliced
4 garlic cloves, sliced
3 star anise
4 scallions, 2 trimmed and left whole, 2 slivered
3 tablespoons chopped cilantro
1 jalapeño, thinly sliced (optional)
2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
Lime wedges
Season the chicken thighs generously with salt and pepper. Put them in a pot and barely cover with cold water. Add the ginger, garlic, star anise, and the 2 whole scallions, bring to a gentle boil, and skim any rising foam. Turn the heat to very low, cover, and cook at a bare simmer for 1 hour.
Transfer the thighs to a bowl to cool. Skim the fat from the surface of the cooking liquid. Over high heat, reduce the liquid by half, about 10 minutes. Strain the broth over the thighs, let cool, then cover and refrigerate for at least several hours, or overnight.
To serve, arrange the chicken on a platter, leaving some of the jellied broth clinging to it. Lightly sprinkle with salt and pepper. Top with the slivered scallions, cilantro, and, if you like, jalapeño slices. Drizzle with the sesame oil and surround with lime wedges to serve.
Only four ingredients—radishes, salt, pepper, and crème fraîche—yet they make an extremely tasty raw vegetable first course. If you can, make it with the wonderfully sharp black radishes, still relatively scarce in the States but available at some farmers’ markets. Or use a combination of red radishes, daikon, or pink-and-green-striped watermelon radishes. You can even use tender young turnips. The only work is in the slicing. A mandoline is the best tool to ensure the slices are uniformly thin. Serves 4
½ pound large red radishes or daikon
Sea salt
¼ cup crème fraîche, or a little more
A few drops of milk (optional)
Pepper
With a mandoline or a sharp knife, slice the radishes as thin as possible. Arrange the slices on a platter. Sprinkle lightly with salt.
If the crème fraîche is quite thick, beat it with a spoon for a minute to lighten it up, or thin with a few drops of milk or water. Spoon it generously over the sliced radishes. Finish with as much freshly ground pepper as you like.
Optional Embellishments
A drizzle of fruity olive oil, about 1 tablespoon, is a delicious indulgence spooned over the crème fraîche at the last minute. Or garnish with spicy radish sprouts and chopped chives. You can also serve the radish salad on thinly sliced rye bread for great little open-faced sandwiches.
Even though there are a thousand and one ways to make a good potato salad, generally speaking, I prefer the kind with oil and vinegar, served at room temperature or slightly warm.
When peppers are in season, roast them for this colorful Mediterranean potato salad. Potatoes marry well with the salty olives and anchovies, and strips of sweet pepper add balance. Serves 4 to 6
Salt and pepper
2 pounds medium potatoes, such as Yukon Gold or German Butterball
A bay leaf
1 large thyme branch
1 small shallot, finely diced
2 garlic cloves, smashed to a paste with a little salt
¼ cup red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
4 anchovy fillets, rinsed and chopped
⅓ cup olive oil
2 red bell peppers, roasted (see Note), peeled, seeded, and cut into ½-inch-wide strips
A handful of black olives
A few basil leaves
Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Add the potatoes, bay leaf, and thyme branch and cook at a brisk simmer until the potatoes are easily pierced with a skewer but still firm, about 30 minutes. Drain and let cool slightly.
While the potatoes are cooking, make the vinaigrette: Put the shallot and garlic in a small bowl and add the red wine vinegar and a pinch of salt. Add the mustard and anchovies, then whisk in the olive oil.
Peel the potatoes and carefully cut into ¼-inch slices. Put the potatoes and peppers in a wide salad bowl and season with salt and pepper. Pour over the vinaigrette and gently toss, using your fingers to coat the vegetables well. Garnish with the black olives and basil leaves.
Note: To roast peppers, place them directly over the flames of a gas stovetop burner, over hot coals on a grill, or under the broiler as close to the heat as possible. Turn them frequently, using tongs, until the skins are completely blistered and blackened. Put them on a plate to cool. (I don’t recommend covering them to steam or rinsing them with water, although many cooks do.)
To peel, cut the peppers in half lengthwise and remove the seeds. The skins come off easily by scraping gently with a knife.
This is one of those serendipitous, stumbled-upon creations. I had made a big pot of polenta, and I poured the leftovers into a baking dish in a thin layer. The next day, foraging in the fridge for lunch, I came upon the polenta, a little fresh mozzarella, a little Parmesan (or was it Pecorino?). To make a pizza of sorts, I layered on the cheeses, added a splash of oil, crumbled over a handful of dried sage leaves, and put it into a hot oven. The result was completely satisfying. So what if it’s not truly a pizza?—though perhaps it has a culinary ancestor somewhere, since there’s really nothing new under the sun. Serves 4
Salt
1 cup stone-ground polenta
½ pound fresh mozzarella
½ cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano or Pecorino Romano cheese
Extra virgin olive oil for drizzling
Leaves from 1 bunch dried fresh sage (see Note)
Red pepper flakes
Pepper
Bring 4 cups water to a boil in a large heavy saucepan and add 2 teaspoons salt. Whisk in the polenta and continue whisking as it begins to bubble. After a minute or two, when the polenta has thickened a bit, reduce the heat to low and let cook gently, stirring occasionally, for about 45 minutes, until thickened and smooth, with no raw cornmeal taste. If the polenta gets too thick as it cooks, add a bit more water. Remove a spoonful and cool, then taste and adjust the seasoning, if necessary.
Spread the polenta on a lightly oiled baking dish to a thickness of ½ inch. Let cool and set, preferably overnight, in the refrigerator.
Heat the oven to 400°F, with a rack in the top third. Tear the mozzarella into big shreds and scatter over the polenta. Top with the Parmesan. Drizzle lightly with oil and crumble the sage leaves on top.
Bake the polenta until the cheese is bubbling and lightly browned, 10 to 15 minutes. Sprinkle with red pepper flakes and freshly ground black pepper to taste and let cool slightly.
Serve cut into rough wedges or squares.
Note: You can dry a bunch of fresh sage by leaving it on a windowsill for a day or two. Freshly dried sage is quite flavorful, but if you don’t get around to this, don’t substitute sage from a jar—use a little chopped rosemary instead.
While a bowl of steamed mussels can make a great simple feast for one or two, here is a different way to think about mussels, more like tapas. Served on a large platter, their black shells glistening, they go fast at a cocktail gathering. I like to make them two ways: a hot version, baked with herbs and garlicky bread crumbs, and a cold version, topped with a robust vinaigrette. Both are delicious, and both can be mostly prepared in advance. Serves 4 to 6
hot mussels on the half-shell
From left: Cold Mussels on the Half-Shell; Hot Mussels on the Half-Shell
2 pounds mussels
2 tablespoons olive oil
½ cup coarse bread crumbs
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
1 teaspoon chopped thyme
Pinch of cayenne
Salt and pepper
Lemon wedges
Heat the oven to 400°F, with a rack in the upper third. Scrub and debeard the mussels.
Heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil in a wide deep skillet over high heat. Add the mussels, cover, and let steam open, 3 to 4 minutes. Let cool, then remove and discard the top shells, leaving the mussels attached to their remaining half-shells. Place the mussels on a baking sheet.
In a small bowl, stir together the bread crumbs, garlic, parsley, thyme, and cayenne. Season with salt and pepper and stir in the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil. Top each mussel with a generous spoonful of the mixture.
Bake until the crumbs are golden, about 10 minutes. Serve the mussels with lemon wedges and eat them straightaway.
cold mussels on the half-shell
From left: Cold Mussels on the Half-Shell; Hot Mussels on the Half-Shell
2½ pounds mussels
1 tablespoon olive oil
For the vinaigrette
1 large shallot, finely diced
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
Salt and pepper
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon capers, rinsed and roughly chopped
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
1 tablespoon slivered chives or scallions
2 teaspoons chopped tarragon or thyme
Lemon wedges
Scrub and debeard the mussels.
Heat the olive oil in a wide deep skillet over high heat. Add the mussels, cover, and let steam open, 3 to 4 minutes. Let cool, then remove and discard the top shells, leaving the mussels attached to their remaining half-shells. Place on a serving platter.
To make the vinaigrette, put the shallot in a small bowl. Add the red wine vinegar and a good pinch each of salt and pepper. Stir in the mustard to dissolve. Whisk in the olive oil, then stir in the capers, parsley, chives, and tarragon. Taste and adjust the seasoning.
Spoon a little vinaigrette over each mussel and serve immediately, with lemon wedges.
Because so many mediocre versions of prosciutto and melon are served in restaurants, many people may consider the pairing trite, passé, or just uninteresting. In fact, when the melon is perfectly ripe and the prosciutto is good, their classic salty-and-sweet combination can be heavenly. For that matter, there is a lot to be said for eating prosciutto with fruit throughout the year, using whatever fruit happens to be at its peak: apricot, cherry, melon, nectarine, peach, grape, fig, pear, apple, persimmon. Serve the sweetest fruit you can get.
In season, pears and prosciutto make perfect partners. The best ripe pears will be firm with unblemished skins and will yield to gentle pressure at the “neck.”
For a casual stand-up snack, have everyone wrap a piece of fruit with a little bit of sliced prosciutto. Or, if you prefer something more formal, compose individual plates and serve with knives and forks. In either case, consider adding a complementary herb, like basil, parsley, spicy cress, or hyssop. I suggest tearing the prosciutto slices into long, wide ribbons. It’s more natural looking and easier to arrange. Serves 4 to 6
2 ripe Comice or Anjou pears, or similar quantity other seasonal fruit
4 to 6 slices best-quality prosciutto (approximately 2 ounces)
A few arugula leaves
Just before serving, quarter, peel, and core the pears. (If the pears are large, halve each quarter.) Put them on a platter. Tear the prosciutto slices into wide ribbons and drape loosely over and around the pears, then scatter the arugula over the top.
Beets can be roasted, boiled, steamed, or turned into chips, but try them raw for this grated beet salad. You can shred them on the large holes of a box grater or cut them into fine julienne—either way, prepare for the likelihood of beet juice splashed everywhere. The grated bloodred vegetable vaguely resembles chopped beef at first glance, so I decided to season this dish like steak tartare, with mustard, shallot, capers, and cornichons. The beet flavor, however, is unmistakably sweet and undeniably vegetarian. Eat it for lunch, with hard-cooked eggs and watercress, or try it with smoked salmon.
Serves 4 to 6
1 pound beets, peeled
Salt and pepper
1 large shallot, finely diced
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon finely chopped jalapeño or a generous pinch of cayenne
1 tablespoon capers, rinsed and roughly chopped
¼ cup olive oil
3 tablespoons chopped parsley
3 tablespoons thinly sliced scallions
12 cornichons
2 hard-cooked eggs, quartered or chopped (optional)
With a food processor or box grater, julienne or grate the beets (or cut them by hand). Put in a bowl, season with salt and pepper, and toss well.
Put the shallot in a small bowl and add the red wine vinegar and a good pinch of salt. Stir in the mustard, jalapeño, and capers, then whisk in the olive oil to make a thick dressing. Add the chopped parsley and scallions.
Dress the beets with the mixture and let marinate for 10 minutes. Transfer to a serving platter. Garnish with the cornichons. Add hard-cooked eggs, if desired.
In the old days in France, rillettes (essentially very tasty pâté-like potted meat) were always made from pork, duck, or goose, well-seasoned and rather fatty. Spread on a freshly baked baguette, they are still a fine thing. Now rillettes are concocted from almost anything imaginable, and why not? Fishy versions are frequently composed of salmon or shellfish mixed with butter. (However, a tuna salad sandwich I had on a recent Air France flight was called rillettes de thon, and this seemed a rather too glorified name.) I still dream about the mackerel rillettes served by a feisty young Parisian chef. She poached fresh mackerel in a flavorful white wine broth. At home, I use smoked mackerel fillets (or sometimes canned sardines). Makes about 1 cup; Serves 6
½ pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
½ pound smoked mackerel fillets, skin removed
½ teaspoon grated lemon zest
1 tablespoon lemon juice
Pinch of cayenne
Pinch of ground allspice
Salt and pepper
1 tablespoon thinly sliced chives
1 tablespoon chopped parsley or chervil
½ teaspoon finely chopped thyme
Baguette slices or dark rye bread
Put the softened butter in a bowl. With your fingers, break the mackerel into medium flakes and add to the bowl. Add the lemon zest, lemon juice, cayenne, and allspice and mix well with a wooden spoon or spatula, mashing the fish into the butter. Season with salt and pepper, then stir in the chives, parsley, and thyme. Refrigerate for several hours, or overnight; bring to room temperature before serving.
Spread the rillettes on baguette slices or on dense, dark rye bread.
This antipasto is a homemade, and better, version of the sort you find in jars at an Italian deli. If you can get baby artichokes, they are lovely braised this way, but medium artichokes work well too. (Zucchini or eggplant are also options.) They’re simmered in a fair amount of olive oil with aromatics, tomato, white wine, and a touch of vinegar. Delicious warm, they are even better served at room temperature. Serves 4
1 lemon, halved
2 pounds baby artichokes
½ cup olive oil
1 medium onion, cut into small dice
1 small fennel bulb, trimmed and cut into small dice
1 large carrot, peeled and cut into small dice
Salt and pepper
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon tomato paste
Large pinch of red pepper flakes
1 cup diced peeled tomato
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
½ cup white wine
1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh marjoram or ½ teaspoon dried oregano
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
1 tablespoon chopped mint
Squeeze the lemon juice into a bowl of cold water. Peel the tough outer leaves from each artichoke, then trim the top and stem end of each artichoke and halve lengthwise. Place in the acidulated water to keep them from darkening. (If using medium artichokes, remove the tough outer leaves, cut 1 inch off the top of each, and trim the stem end. Halve lengthwise and remove the central hairy choke with a soupspoon. Cut into quarters or sixths and place in the acidulated water.)
In a wide stainless steel skillet, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion, fennel, and carrot, season with salt and pepper, and cook gently until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in the garlic and tomato paste and raise the heat to medium-high. Add the red pepper flakes, diced tomato, and vinegar, stir to combine, and cook for 1 minute. Add the drained artichokes and the wine, season once more with salt, and put on the lid. Reduce the heat to a low simmer, cover, and cook for about 15 minutes, until the artichokes are tender.
Add the marjoram, mix the artichokes and vegetables gently, and transfer to a shallow serving bowl. Let marinate for several hours or refrigerate overnight, then bring to room temperature. Just before serving, sprinkle with the freshly chopped parsley and mint.
It’s always nice when the food you crave is actually good for you. Seaweed, sometimes called sea vegetable (perhaps to make it sound less like a weed), is a delicious, highly nutritious, edible marine algae. You can check Japanese groceries for more exotic kinds of salt-packed seaweeds, but many supermarkets and health food stores sell user-friendly packages of dried seaweed. This recipe uses two commonly available types, reddish-purple dulse and bright green wakame. Both simply need bathing in cold water for a few minutes to soften and ready them for use. The salad is tossed with a dressing of sesame oil, ginger, and soy. I like it with grilled or steamed fish, or simply served with sliced cucumber and avocado. Serves 4
1 ounce dried red dulse seaweed
1 ounce dried green wakame seaweed
For the dressing
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
2 teaspoons sugar
2 teaspoons grated ginger
½ teaspoon wasabi powder
2 teaspoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
Juice of 1 lime
Sea salt
1 small carrot, peeled and sliced paper-thin
4 red radishes, thinly sliced
A 2-ounce piece of daikon, peeled and thinly sliced
1 small cucumber, peeled and thinly sliced
1 firm but ripe avocado, halved, pitted, peeled, and sliced
1 teaspoon toasted white sesame seeds
1 teaspoon toasted black sesame seeds
2 teaspoons toasted hulled pumpkin seeds (pepitas)
4 scallions, slivered
Put the dulse and wakame in a large bowl and cover with cold water. Let soak for 5 to 10 minutes, until softened. Drain and pat dry. Cut into rough 2-inch pieces. Arrange on a platter.
To make the dressing, whisk together the rice vinegar, sugar, ginger, wasabi powder, soy sauce, and sesame oil in a small bowl.
Spoon half the dressing over the seaweed, add the lime juice, and toss gently. Taste and add a small amount of salt if necessary. Surround the salad with the carrot, radishes, daikon, cucumber, and avocado. Season lightly with salt and drizzle with the remaining dressing. Sprinkle the salad with the white and black sesame seeds, pumpkin seeds, and scallions.