In Italy, you can walk down a supermarket aisle and see pasta in an astounding array of shapes, from arm-long tubes to rice-like grains. Yet—unless you’ve stumbled into the gluten-free section—every one of them is made at least partially from wheat. There’s a bit more variety in China, where rice noodles are pretty well represented too. If you want to stray from wheat and rice though, your best bet is to head over to Korea.
You won’t have much trouble finding wheat and rice noodles in Korean markets. You’ll also find noodles made from a wide variety of unique—or at least unique to noodles—ingredients like kudzu, sweet potato starch, acorn flour, corn flour, pumpkin, and potato starch.
Besides japchae (page 131), jajang myun (page 132), jjamppong (page 134), and bibim guksu (page 136), there are a whole host of Korean noodle dishes and types worth exploring. Naeng myeon are buckwheat noodles that are served ice-cold. There are restaurants that carry this to an extreme and put ice cubes in the broth itself. Cheonsachae, made from seaweed jelly, and dotori guksu—made from acorns—look a bit like whole wheat spaghetti, and like so many others mentioned here, find their way into cold soups and salads.
Not long ago, I sat down to a bowl of bibim naeng myeon at a local Korean noodle restaurant. On the menu, they were just called noodles, but when I started eating, I realized that I was in a whole different ballgame. Presented cold under chile paste and vegetables, the naeng myeon somehow managed to be chewy and slippery at the same time. As if the dish wasn’t startling enough, the server darted back with yellow plastic squeeze bottles of hot mustard and vinegar. I poured it on and he nodded with approval.
After I ate, I strolled over to a nearby Korean grocery and checked out the noodle aisle. There were bags marked “Chinese Noodle” that looked like bundles of fiber optics and had sweet potato starch as their only listed ingredient, and others that appeared to be packages of edible grilling skewers. Few were mentioned in either English-language Korean cookbooks or on neighborhood restaurant menus. I left knowing one thing—whatever it was that Korean chefs did with these noodles, there’d be the bite of chile, the zing of vinegar, and a texture I’d never encountered before.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
1 package (12 ounces) Korean sweet potato noodles (dang myun), soaked, rinsed, and drained
½ cup soy sauce
2 tablespoons rice wine
¼ cup sugar
½ cup water
1 pound boneless chicken thighs or breasts, cut in ½-inch strips
2 tablespoons peanut oil
2 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
1 cup sliced onion
½ cup shredded carrot
1 cup fresh shiitake mushroom cap slices
1 cup red bell pepper strips
1 cup blanched and chopped spinach
2 tablespoons sesame seeds
No country pushes the boundaries of the world of noodles like Korea. There, noodles of rice and wheat are common, and so are ones made from bean or acorn flour. Japchae, the popular Korean fried noodle dish, uses noodles made from sweet potato starch.
1. Cut soaked noodles into 6-inch-long pieces and set aside.
2. Mix the soy sauce, rice wine, sugar, and water together in a bowl. Make sure that the sugar is dissolved before you proceed.
3. Put the chicken strips in the soy mixture and let marinate in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes.
4. Put the oil in a large wok or large skillet over high heat. When it’s hot, mix in the garlic, onion, carrot, mushroom, and bell pepper and cook, stirring, until the onion is tender, about 10 minutes.
5. Mix in the chicken and half the marinating liquid and cook and stir until the meat appears cooked, about 5 minutes.
6. Add the soaked noodles and spinach and cook, stirring, until the noodles have absorbed the liquid that’s formed at the bottom of the pan and all the ingredients are evenly distributed, about 3 minutes.
7. Sprinkle the sesame seeds on top and serve right away.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
2 tablespoons peanut oil
¼ cup Korean roasted black bean paste
½ pound boneless pork loin cut into ½-inch cubes
1 tablespoon sugar
1 cup coarsely chopped onion
1 cup peeled potato cut into ½-inch cubes
2 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
1 cup coarsely chopped napa cabbage
1 cup zucchini cut into ½-inch cubes
1 pound somen (Korean wheat flour noodles), cooked and drained
2 tablespoons sesame oil
This dish started life in the Shandong region of China, where it was called “fried sauce noodles.” Then it jumped across to Korea, where Chinese migrants started cooking it. Since then, it’s achieved near-national-dish status. In fact, its one hundredth anniversary in Korea was celebrated in 2005.
1. Put the oil and black bean paste in a large skillet or wok over medium heat and stir until the oil and sauce are combined, about 3 minutes.
2. Mix in the pork, sugar, onion, potato, and garlic and cook, stirring frequently, until the potato starts to becomes tender, about 15 minutes.
3. Mix in the cabbage and zucchini and continue to cook, stirring frequently, until the zucchini is tender, about 15 minutes.
4. To serve, ladle the hot sauce over a bed of cooked noodles and then pour a bit of the sesame oil over it.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
3 tablespoons peanut oil
2 tablespoons Korean red pepper powder (gochugaru)
8 ounces boneless chicken thigh meat cut into strips
3 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh ginger
1 cup thinly sliced or shredded carrot
½ cup scallions cut into 2-inch lengths
1 cup sliced fresh shiitake mushroom caps
1 cup sliced napa cabbage
1 cup leeks cut into 2-inch lengths
1 cup sliced onion
8 cups water
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 teaspoon wakame (dried seaweed)
8 ounces squid rings
4 ounces peeled and deveined raw shrimp
2 tablespoons sesame seeds
1 pound fresh ramen or lo mein noodles, cooked and drained
1 hard-cooked egg, sliced in half
Jjamppong is a tough dish to pin a nationality on. Its got a Korean name, a Chinese heritage, and some serious claims to popularity in Japan. So what is it? A bowl of Chinese noodle soup spiced up for the Korean market. It worked. Not only did Koreans embrace it, they brought it with them when they opened their own restaurants overseas.
1. Put a wok or large skillet on high heat and add the oil, pepper powder, and chicken. Cook, stirring, until the chicken meat becomes opaque, about 3 minutes.
2. Mix in the garlic and ginger and cook and stir until the garlic starts to become tender, about 5 minutes.
3. Mix in the carrot, scallions, mushroom, cabbage, leeks, and onion and cook, stirring frequently, until the onion starts to become tender, about 5 minutes.
4. Mix in the water and soy sauce and bring to a boil. Then reduce the heat to medium-low and let simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the carrots and leeks are tender, about 40 minutes.
5. Mix in the wakame, squid rings, shrimp, and sesame seeds. Cook and stir until the shrimp becomes opaque, about 3 minutes. Remove from heat.
6. To assemble the dish, first put a heap of cooked noodles at the bottom of each serving bowl and ladle the chicken/seafood/broth mixture over them. Then garnish with half a hard-cooked egg.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
¼ cup Korean chile pepper paste (gochujang)
2 teaspoons hot mustard
¼ cup rice wine vinegar
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons Karo syrup*
2 tablespoons sesame oil
2 tablespoons sesame seeds
1 cup thinly sliced napa cabbage
1 cup matchstick-sized carrot slices
1 cup matchstick-sized cucumber slices
1 cup matchstick-sized Asian pear slices
½ cup shredded scallions
1 pound somen (Korean wheat flour noodles), cooked, rinsed, and drained
1 cup chopped napa cabbage kimchi
2 hard cooked eggs, cut in half
Here’s Korea’s addition to the world of cold noodle salads. This one has plenty of spice, some sweet, and a fistful of vegetables too.
1. Combine the pepper paste, mustard, vinegar, soy sauce, Karo syrup, sesame oil, and sesame seeds in a large bowl and mix well. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour so that the flavors combine.
2. Toss the cabbage, carrot, cucumber, pear, and scallion together and set aside.
3. To assemble the dish, put a quarter of the sauce at the bottom of each serving bowl, then put a serving of the cooked noodles on top of the puddle of sauce. Cover the noodles with the vegetable mixture, spoon some of the kimchi over the vegetables, and put half of a cooked egg on top.
Serve right away.
*In Korea, you’d use malt syrup, or mul yut.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
2 tablespoons peanut oil
3 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
1 cup sliced onion
½ cup shredded carrot
1 cup celery sticks
2 cups savoy cabbage, cut into ½-inch-wide strips
1 cup snow peas
1 pound boneless chicken breasts or thighs, cut into ½-inch-wide strips
1 cup chicken broth
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon Thai or Vietnamese fish sauce
8 ounces fine rice noodles, soaked and drained*
I’ve always wondered how the foods of Thailand and Japan have become so popular, while dishes from the Philippines remain almost unknown. This recipe, with rice noodles, vegetables, and chicken, makes a good introduction.
1. Put a wok or large skillet on high heat and add the oil, garlic, and onion. Cook and stir until the onion starts to become tender, about 4 minutes.
2. Mix in the carrot, celery, cabbage, and snow peas and cook, stirring regularly, until the cabbage is tender, about 10 minutes.
3. Add the chicken and continue to stir until the chicken is cooked through, about 10 minutes.
4. Push the vegetables to the side of the pan and add the broth, soy sauce, and fish sauce and bring to a boil, about 3 minutes. Then give the pan a few big stirs to combine the liquid and cooked food.
5. Add the noodles and toss in the pan until the liquid is absorbed and the meat and vegetables are well distributed, about 5 minutes.
Serve right away.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
2 tablespoons peanut oil
2 cups chopped onion
3 tablespoons chopped fresh garlic
1 teaspoon sugar
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
½ pound ground beef
½ pound sliced hot dogs
½ cup whole milk
½ cup ketchup
1 cup canned crushed tomato
1 pound spaghetti, cooked and drained
When foods start traveling, they show up in their destination countries in surprising ways. Neither spaghetti nor hot dogs are native to the Philippines, yet somehow they combine here to become something totally different than the inventor of either would have ever foreseen.
1. Put the oil, onion, and garlic in a heavy pot over medium-low heat and cook and stir until the onion is very tender, about 20 minutes.
2. Mix in the sugar, salt, pepper, ground beef, and hot dog and cook, stirring occasionally, until the beef is well browned, about 20 minutes more.
3. Mix in the milk, ketchup, and crushed tomato and simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the taste of raw tomato is gone and the flavors have combined, about 30 minutes. If the sauce becomes too thick, add water, ¼ cup at a time, until it’s the same thickness as a typical pasta sauce.
4. Serve over the spaghetti.
*These are called pancit bihon at Filipino shops. You can also use Vietnamese or Thai rice noodles.
For most of us here in the United States, noodles aren’t a morning food. That doesn’t mean that nobody eats noodles for breakfast, it’s just that we have to poke around a bit to find them. If there’s one country that embraces a bowl of steaming noodles in the morning, it’s Vietnam, where there’s a long history of starting the day with the classic beef noodle soup pho (recipe page 145).
I was dubious about this at first. Vietnamese food authority Andrea Nguyen not only assured me that pho was a popular breakfast, she also had fond memories of Sunday after-church meals of pho made by her grandmother. In a tone of near-rapture, she told me to “forget church coffee hour and make pho instead.”
She went on to say that in Vietnam “we eat pho really early, before it gets hot—when it’s only 85 degrees.” This really made me wonder about the relationship between climate and cuisine. Could a steaming bowl of noodle soup be the national dish of one of the hottest, muggiest countries on the planet? Pho is what I would want in Siberia. Andrea felt differently. In fact, pho is the perfect Vietnamese food: a fusion of cuisines in a bowl. The beef is French, the noodles Chinese, and the herbs the taste of Vietnam itself. Climate had nothing to do with it.
I wanted to try a bowl of pho in the morning to find out for myself. Normally, the Asian restaurants in my (very Asian) neighborhood don’t start serving until lunch, leaving many people to wonder if these cuisines offer anything for breakfast at all. To my surprise, one local Vietnamese place was already open at 9:30. I headed on over.
On a Saturday morning, I was the only person there. In fact, nobody was manning the front—it was clear that they weren’t expecting a customer at that time. Pho may be popular in the morning in Vietnam, but not in New Jersey.
It didn’t matter. Within minutes, I had noodle soup in front of me. Despite being described as the “combo bowl,” there was nothing but cooked beef. I mixed in the herbs and sprouts and studied for a moment. Before I even tasted, I could see that this was the best bowl in the area; the broth had small bits of beef and a wonderful scent.
Noodles aren’t my normal breakfast, and this, as it turns out, is my loss. The soup was gentle. There was none of the thrill (and subsequent stupor) you get from a big plate of eggs and bacon, and yet it had substance. It was more filling than a quick muffin or bagel, too. I wasn’t stuffed and didn’t want a doughnut an hour later. Andrea had told me, “I hunger for that morning experience, it’s extremely soothing and grounding.” Even without any childhood memories, I found her comment to hit the nail on the head.
As I was leaving, the owner told me, “In Vietnam, we eat noodle soup in the morning, at lunch, for supper … all day! When you wake up, you open your door and a street vendor will bring you your pho, and then, a while later, come back and pick up the empty bowl.”
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
1 piece fresh ginger, 3 inches long
2 large onions, peeled and cut in half
2½ pounds oxtail cut into 1- to 2-inch slices
2½ pounds beef soup bones in large chunks
¼ cup Vietnamese or Thai fish sauce
2 tablespoons sugar
10 whole star anise
6 whole cloves
1 cinnamon stick
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
4 bay leaves
Cheesecloth and string for simmering the spices
Chopped cooked beef picked from the bones (optional)
1 tablespoon salt
¼ pound thinly sliced sirloin beef
½ cup thinly sliced red onion
2 tablespoons sliced scallions
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
2 cups fresh mung bean sprouts
2 tablespoons thinly slicedhot chilies
2 tablespoons fresh Asian basil leaves
2 lime wedges
4 ounces dried fine rice stick noodles, soaked, rinsed, and drained
A dish must be popular if you can find whole restaurants devoted to it in every corner of the world. Pho, Vietnamese beef noodle soup, meets this criteria with ease. It heads the menu in Paris, Virginia Beach, and Hong Kong too. In its home country, it’s everywhere; people begin eating it at the crack of dawn (see sidebar, page 148).
Does the name come from the French pot-au-feu? Both dishes require long simmering. Or maybe the Cantonese word for rice noodles, rendered and pronounced as fun in English and something a bit closer to pho in its native language? Either way, it’s the dish that put Vietnamese food on the map.
1. In an oven preheated to 425 degrees, roast the ginger and onion until onion browns at the edges, about 30 minutes. Remove from oven and set aside.
2. Put the oxtail and beef bones in a large pot and add enough water to cover. Bring to a boil over high heat. Let it boil for 1 minute, turn the heat off, remove the oxtail and bones, and discard the water. This step removes impurities and gives a cleaner stock. Don’t skip it.
3. Return the oxtail and beef bones to pot and add 5 quarts water. Cook, stirring occasionally, over medium-low heat until the pot comes to a simmer.
4. After the liquid simmers for a few minutes, you’ll start to see foam and scum form on the surface. This has to be skimmed off. Let the meat simmer covered for 1 hour and skim as necessary. You will probably need to skim 5 or 6 times. Don’t forget this step.
5. Mix in the roasted ginger and onions, fish sauce, and sugar and let the pot simmer for 30 more minutes, continuing to skim if necessary.
6. Tie the star anise, cloves, cinnamon stick, fennel, and bay leaves together in a bag made from the cheesecloth and add it to the simmering mixture. Continue cooking, stirring occasionally and skimming as needed, for two more hours. When the broth is cooked, there’ll be a combination of strong beef and spice flavors. If you’re a fan, you’ll recognize it as the flavor of pho when you taste it.
7. After 4 total hours of simmering, strain the liquid and remove the solids. For a more intense flavor, pick the meat off the bones and add the chopped meat back into the broth before discarding the bones. Taste. If the broth is too strong, dilute with water, 1 cup at a time, until it’s right. If it’s too mild, simmer uncovered over low heat and taste every 20 minutes or so until it’s strong enough for your tastes. Let cool. You should have about 12 cups of broth.
If you’re making the broth and soup on separate days, stop here. The broth can be stored in the refrigerator for several days. It can also be frozen. Otherwise, it’s time to put the dish together.
8. Each serving of soup is individually assembled in the bowl it’s eaten out of. If it’s not already warm, heat up the broth. You’ll need 3 cups per serving.
9. While that’s happening, put one quarter of the beef, onion, scallion, and cilantro in each serving bowl along with one quarter of the soaked noodles.
10. Pour the hot broth over the noodle mixture. The heat will quickly cook the beef, onion, scallion, and cilantro.
11. Serve right away with a side dish of sprouts, chiles, basil, and lime wedges. Most serious pho eaters will squeeze the lime over the soup and mix in the sprouts, basil, and chile as they eat.
AT THE TYPICAL VIETNAMESE NOODLE SHOP in the suburban northeastern USA, in my experience, you’ll find servers with big smiles offering up bowls of pho with watery broth and dry meat, and tiny three-dollar cups of coffee. This just isn’t right. Classic pho is made from beef broth using bones from real cattle, not from a can or powder. It takes time to get it right. The cooks at shops using instant might be able to sleep later in the morning, but you might wonder how they sleep at night. One of the world’s finest noodle soups deserves better.
Pho is the original French/Asian fusion dish. Just remember, it’s not pronounced “foe,” as in “fee, fi, fo, fum,” but “feuwh,” as in the French pot-au-feu. And while its origins are French, the dish has become something very deeply Asian. Across America, pho restaurants are everywhere; you can order a “big bowl” or an “extra big bowl,” and for a bit more, you can add meatballs too. What makes it or breaks it, though, isn’t in the bowl, it’s in the bones.
Bones make pho a whole different sort of food. The broth I make from beef bones is dark, rich, and mysterious—and the longer I simmer it, the darker it becomes. Lifting a spoonful from the bowl, you can see that it has real body, and tiny flecks of meat. When I add the chopped meat pulled from the simmered bones, the flavor and texture takes another step up. The fragrance of Vietnam infuses the dish—the star anise, cloves, and cinnamon—the bowl in front of you could nourish a nation. Bones give it soul.
It turns out that pho has a sort of rhythm of its own. Really long, followed by short, and ending with quick. In theory, the broth should take about four hours, but in practice, it never seemed like it had cooked long enough. I always finished every cooking session swearing that I’d let the next batch go longer. Afterward, there’s the moment or two when you cook the noodles and add the beef, onion, and cilantro. And the finishing touch of sprouts and basil happens at the table, seconds before you eat.
Is instant the devil’s dust? Not really. In fact, with the instant and a few basic ingredients, you can make a bowl of pho in less time than it takes most of us to drive to the local Vietnamese restaurant. But when it comes to understanding the cuisine and why so many people are devoted to it, you have to start with bones.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
¼ cup lime juice
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons Vietnamese or Thai fish sauce
¼ cup sugar
1 tablespoon chopped fresh hot red chile pepper
1 tablespoon crushed and chopped garlic
6 ounces Vietnamese fine rice noodles
2 cups tender lettuce leaves, like oak leaf, red leaf, or green leaf, torn into strips
1 cup mung bean sprouts, rinsed and drained
½ cup chopped cucumber
½ cup shredded carrot
¼ cup fresh basil leaves
¼ cup fresh mint leaves
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro
2 cups deep-fried tofu cut into dice-sized cubes
½ cup chopped peanuts
Vietnam’s contribution to the world of cold noodles, this dish is perfect for the sort of tropical days that even people from temperate climates experience every now and then.
1. Mix the lime juice, soy sauce, fish sauce, sugar, pepper, and garlic together in a bowl until the sugar dissolves. This may take up to 5 minutes. Let the mixture sit for at least 1 hour for the flavors to combine. If the sugar settles out again, give it a few more stirs.
2. Put the noodles in a heatproof bowl and pour 4 cups of boiling water over them. Allow to stand with occasional stirring until tender, about 10 minutes. Drain and set aside.
3. Toss the lettuce, bean sprouts, cucumber, carrot, basil, mint, and cilantro together in a large bowl. Make sure they’re evenly distributed. Set aside.
4. Divide the noodles up into 4 servings and place each on a serving plate. Put a heap of the greens on top of the noodles, set some tofu cubes along the edge, sprinkle with the chopped peanuts, and drizzle with the sauce.
Serve right away. If making ahead, keep all the elements separate until serving time.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
12 ounces dry fine Asian egg noodles, cooked and drained
2 cups peanut oil + 2 tablespoons for stir-frying
½ cup chicken broth
1 tablespoon oyster sauce
2 tablespoons fish sauce
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon cornstarch
3 tablespoons crushed and chopped fresh garlic
½ cup thinly sliced carrot
1 cup sliced onion
1 pound boneless chicken thighs, cut into strips
2 cups baby bok choy, sliced the long way, into strips
2 cups snow peas
Fried noodles actually come in more varieties than the take-out Chinese ones accompanying egg-drop soup. This is Vietnam’s crispy version, topped with a stir-fry containing soy sauce and fish sauce—a typical Vietnamese combination.
1. As soon as they’re drained and cool enough to touch, form the cooked egg noodles into 4 flat pancakes. Let them sit on sheets of parchment paper until they set and hold together, about 15 minutes.
2. Put the 2 cups of peanut oil in a wok or large skillet over high heat. When the oil reaches 375 degrees—check this with a frying thermometer—use a spatula to carefully place one pancake of noodles in the oil and fry until it’s browned, about 3 minutes. Then use a spatula and/or tongs to turn it over and fry the other side, about 1 more minute. Repeat until all the pancakes are fried. Drain them on paper towels and set aside.
3. Combine the chicken broth, oyster sauce, fish sauce, soy sauce, and cornstarch together in a small bowl. Stir until the corn starch is dissolved, about 30 seconds. Set aside.
4. Put the 2 tablespoons of oil in a wok or large skillet over high heat (it’s okay to reuse the noodle frying oil) and add the garlic, carrot, and onion. Cook and stir until the onion becomes tender and the garlic browns at the edges, about 3 minutes.
5. Mix in the chicken and cook, stirring, until it’s opaque and cooked through, about 3 minutes.
6. Mix in the soy sauce mixture, the bok choy strips, and the snow peas and cook and stir until the snow peas are tender, about 5 minutes.
To assemble the dish, place a fried noodle pancake on a plate and cover with the stir-fry mixture. Serve right away.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
1 cup chopped shallot + ¼ cup thinly sliced shallot for garnish
⅓ cup whole garlic cloves
¼ cup chopped lemongrass stalks
2 tablespoons chopped fresh or frozen galangal root
3 tablespoons chopped fresh ginger
½ cup lime juice
2 quarts water
2 tablespoons sambal (Malaysian chile paste)
2 teaspoons belacan (Malaysian fermented shrimp paste)
¼ cup crushed palm sugar
¼ cup laksa leaves
1 pound Spanish mackerel or mackerel fillet, cut in thin strips
8 ounces thick rice noodles, soaked and drained
½ cup crushed pineapple
½ cup cucumber strips
2 tablespoons fresh mint leaves
Assam laksa combines the sweet, salty, sour, and hot flavors of Southeast Asia in a single bowl.
1. Combine the shallot, garlic, lemongrass, galangal, ginger, and lime juice in a food processor or blender and purée until you have a smooth paste, about 2 minutes.
2. Bring the 2 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot. When the water is boiling, mix in the blended shallot/garlic mixture, sambal, belacan, palm sugar, and laksa leaves. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer covered until the flavors have combined and the leaves are very tender, about 30 minutes.
3. Uncover the pot and simmer until about a quarter of the liquid has evaporated, about 30 minutes.
4. Remove from the heat. Let cool for a few minutes and discard the laksa leaves using a skimmer or strainer. Then return the pot to medium-low heat and add the mackerel. Cook with occasional stirring until the mackerel is cooked through, about 15 minutes.
5. Put a quarter of the noodles at the bottom of each serving bowl and ladle the liquid soup over them until they’re barely covered. Then garnish with the shallot, pineapple, cucumber, and mint. Serve right away.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
6 dried red hot chiles
1 teaspoon sambal (Malaysian chile paste)
1 tablespoon belacan (Malaysian fermented shrimp paste)
½ cup water
2 tablespoons lard
2 tablespoons crushed and chopped fresh garlic
1 tablespoon thick soy sauce
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon ground white pepper
1 teaspoon sugar
½ pound boneless chicken thigh meat cut into thumbnail-sized pieces
2 cups coarsely chopped choy sum cabbage or Chinese broccoli
6 ounces wide rice noodles, soaked, rinsed, and drained
1 cup mung bean sprouts, rinsed and drained
¼ cup chopped scallion greens
2 tablespoons sliced fresh red hot chiles
You can learn a lot about a culture from a plate of fried noodles. Char kway teow recounts the story of Malaysian cuisine. There’s the yin and yang of the food itself, fresh ingredients mixed with fermented. In this part of the world, you can’t have one without the other. Then there’s the lard. The dish may be tropical, but it’s fuel for hard labor and filled with calories. And finally, the use of rice noodles tells you that it’s from a place that’s too far south to grow or store wheat. Of course, no matter how much you learn, you don’t really know a cuisine without cooking it.
1. Combine the chiles, sambal, belacan, and water in a food processor and blend into a paste. Set aside.
2. Put a wok or large skillet on high heat and add the lard and garlic. Stir-fry until the garlic starts to brown, about 1 minute.
3. Mix in the blended chile mixture from step 1, thick soy sauce, soy sauce, white pepper, and sugar and stir-fry until they all combine, about 1 minute.
4. Add the chicken and stir-fry until the meat is coated with the sauce mixture and begins to brown, about 3 minutes.
5. Mix in the cabbage pieces and stir-fry until they’re tender and the chicken meat is fully cooked, about 3 minutes.
6. Add the noodles and bean sprouts and use tongs and/or wooden spoons to make sure that all the ingredients are evenly distributed, about 2 minutes.
7. Remove the pan from the heat and toss with the scallions and hot chile slices.
Serve right away.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
5 pounds pork soup bones (any good Asian butcher will have these)
1 large onion, peeled and cut in quarters
5 quarts water
1 pound boneless pork tenderloin, cut in ½-inch strips
¼ cup peanut oil
¼ cup crushed and chopped fresh garlic
8 ounces ground pork
½ teaspoon salt + 2 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons sugar
½ pound shelled and deveined shrimp
2 cups mung bean sprouts
8 ounces fine rice noodles, soaked and drained
½ cup chopped scallions
½ cup fresh cilantro leaves
¼ cup sliced, fresh hot red chiles
2 tablespoons soy sauce
Ka tieu, Cambodia’s national dish, is easy enough to describe—it’s similar to Vietnamese pho (page 145), but with pork broth instead of beef broth. For most of us, this means making broth from scratch, so it’s time to get some good-sized pork bones and pull out that big stock pot.
1. Put the bones and 5 quarts of water in a large pot over high heat and bring to a boil. Let boil for 30 seconds and remove from the heat. Discard the water and reserve the bones.
2. Put the scalded bones and onion in 5 quarts of fresh water, bring to a boil over high heat, and let it boil for 30 seconds. Then reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer covered, stirring occasionally, until the bones have given up their flavor and the onion has dissolved, about 3 hours. If any scum forms on the surface, skim it off and discard. You should have about 3 quarts of broth at the end.
3. Remove the bones and any remaining bits of onion from the liquid and discard. Add the pork strips and continue to simmer until the meat is barely cooked through, about 30 minutes.
4. While the broth is simmering, heat the oil in a small skillet over medium heat, mix in the garlic, and cook and stir until it browns at the edges, about 5 minutes. Remove the garlic from the oil and set aside, keeping the oil in the skillet.
5. Put the ground pork and ½ teaspoon of salt in the skillet with the reserved oil and cook over medium heat until the pork browns, about 5 minutes. Use a wooden spoon to break the ground pork into the smallest pieces possible as it cooks. Set it aside.
6. Add the salt, sugar, and shrimp to the broth and cook, stirring, until the shrimp are opaque, about 3 minutes. If you’re not ready to serve the dish right away, remove the cooked shrimp and set aside.
7. Assemble the soup by first putting a heap of soaked rice noodles in each serving bowl. Add 2 tablespoons of cooked ground pork and 1 tablespoon of fried garlic, then ladle the hot broth over all, making sure everybody gets both pork strips and shrimp. Garnish with the scallions, cilantro, hot chiles, and soy sauce.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
1 tablespoon tamarind concentrate
3 tablespoons Thai or Vietnamese fish sauce
2 tablespoons crushed palm sugar
1 teaspoon dried chile flakes
3 tablespoons peanut oil
½ cup minced shallots
1 tablespoon crushed and chopped garlic
1 cup pressed tofu cut into dice-sized cubes
2 eggs
4 ounces fine Thai rice noodles, soaked, rinsed, and drained
½ pound peeled and deveined shrimp
½ cup Chinese chives, cut into 2-inch strips
1 cup mung bean sprouts, rinsed and drained
1 lime, cut in quarters
Are you old enough to remember when this dish was considered exotic? Thai food is a staple of strip malls today and that’s led to lots of people thinking that Thailand’s national dish is nothing more than a greasy mess. Make it yourself to find out how it’s really supposed to taste.
1. Combine the tamarind concentrate, fish sauce, palm sugar, and chile flakes in a bowl and stir until the sugar dissolves. Set aside. (You may have to let it soak a while in order for the sugar to fully dissolve.)
2. Put a wok or large skillet on high heat and add the peanut oil. The hotter you can make your pan, the better the dish will taste. Add the shallots and cook and stir until they start to brown, about 2 minutes.
3. Mix in the garlic and tofu. Cook and stir until everything is well combined, about 2 minutes.
4. Push the cooking ingredients to the side of the pan and add the eggs. Scramble until they start to firm up. Then toss the entire mixture together.
5. Add the soaked and drained noodles and toss until all the ingredients are well combined, about 2 minutes.
6. Add the tamarind sauce and cook, stirring, until the sauce has been completely absorbed, about 2 minutes.
7. Mix in the shrimp, chives, and bean sprouts, and cook and stir until the shrimp turn opaque and all the ingredients are evenly mixed together, about 3 minutes. Serve hot, with lime quarters.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
3 cups peanut oil + 2 tablespoons for stir-frying
6 ounces fine rice noodles, dry*
3 tablespoons small dried shrimp
½ cup chopped Chinese sausage
2 tablespoons crushed and chopped fresh garlic
2 tablespoons chopped fresh hot red chiles
½ cup chopped shallot
3 tablespoons fish sauce
3 tablespoons lime juice
3 tablespoons crushed palm sugar
4 ounces boneless pork tenderloin, cut in strips
½ cup chopped dry tofu
2 tablespoons chopped cilantro leaves
¼ cup chopped Thai pickled garlic cloves
1 cup mung bean sprouts, rinsed and drained
¼ cup chopped Chinese chives
We all know the satisfying crunch of deep-fried noodles as restaurant fare or something you find in the processed-food aisle. With a skillet or wok, some oil, and a bit of heat, you can make this delicious crispy noodle dish at home.
1. Put the oil in a skillet or flat-bottomed wok over high heat. When the oil temperature reaches 375 degrees put in half the noodles. The action moves quickly here! When the noodles are puffed and brown, about 1 minute, remove them and drain. Repeat with the other batch. Set aside. Note that different brands of noodles will bunch up in different ways and that some may require turning over in the hot oil. Whatever you do, don’t serve raw rice noodles—make sure they’re browned nicely.
2. In a clean, empty wok or skillet on high heat, add the 2 tablespoons of oil and when it gets very hot, mix in the dried shrimp and Chinese sausage. Cook and stir until the edges of the sausage start to brown, about 2 minutes.
3. Mix in the garlic, hot chiles, and shallot and cook, stirring, until the garlic starts to brown at the edges, about 2 minutes.
4. Add the fish sauce, lime juice, and palm sugar and cook and stir until the sugar has dissolved, about 1 minute.
5. Mix in the pork, tofu, cilantro, and pickled garlic and cook and stir until the pork is browned, about 4 minutes.
6. Mix in the bean sprouts and chives and cook and stir until the sprouts are tender, about 2 minutes.
7. Assemble the dish by putting the noodles on their respective serving plates and covering them with the stir-fried meat and vegetable.
Serve right away or it will become a soggy mess.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
¼ cup Thai or Vietnamese fish sauce
2 tablespoons lime juice
¼ cup sugar
2 tablespoons crushed and finely chopped fresh garlic
1 tablespoon chopped fresh red hot chile pepper
1 tablespoon Thai chile garlic paste
¼ cup water
1 tablespoon salt
16 ounces shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 cup sliced shallot
1 cup chopped fresh tomato
¼ cup chopped cilantro
¼ cup chopped fresh mint leaves
½ cup crushed cashew nuts
6 ounces bean thread noodles, cooked, rinsed, and drained
In a hot climate like Thailand, there has to be something cool to eat that’s not a sweet. Salads are the answer. This one manages to put the distinctive taste of Thailand on a single refreshing and intensely flavored plate.
1. Combine the fish sauce, lime juice, sugar, garlic, hot pepper, chile garlic paste, and ¼ cup water and mix until the sugar has dissolved. Let stand in the refrigerator until the flavors have combined, about 60 minutes, stirring as necessary to ensure the sugar fully dissolves.
2. Bring 2 quarts of water and the salt to a boil in a large pot and add the shrimp. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the meat turns opaque, about 1 minute. Drain shrimp and set aside, letting shrimp cool at least 10 minutes before proceeding.
3. Toss the cooked shrimp, shallot, tomato, cilantro, mint, and cashews together and make sure they’re evenly combined.
4. To assemble the dish, put a bed of cooked noodles on a serving plate, heap some of the tossed shrimp and vegetable mixture over it, and finally pour the fish sauce mixture on top as a dressing.
Serve right away.
THERE ISN’T ALL THAT MUCH deep-frying in this book; just a handful of recipes with a base of crispy noodles. Even so, I urge you to buy good-quality oil and take care of it. When you fry in peanut oil, you should have no problem getting it hot enough for good results without burning. And when you’re finished, skim it or strain it and save it to use again.
This isn’t as hard as it sounds. You can either run it through a paper coffee filter or one of those steel mesh skimmers that are sold to remove the surface scum from stock. You’ll be left with clean oil that you can use again for any recipe that calls for deep-frying.
*Look for the ones sold in small bunches; they’ll be easier to fry.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
8 ounces thin rice noodles
2 tablespoons peanut oil
2 tablespoons hot curry paste*
1 tablespoon Thai or Vietnamese fish sauce
½ pound boneless chicken thighs cut into thin strips
1 egg, beaten
1 cup mung bean sprouts, rinsed and drained
½ cup red and/or green bell pepper strips
1 tablespoon chopped fresh hot red chile pepper
2 tablespoons chopped scallions
Sometimes called Singapore Fried Noodles, this dish, like so many things in Singapore, combines elements from East and West to make something unique. In this case, the stir-frying technique is from China, the rice noodles are from Southeast Asia, and the curry powder is from Britain, Jamaica, or India, depending on who you ask and what variety of powder or paste you choose.
In this recipe, the kind of curry you add makes a big difference. American supermarket curry powder will give you a mild dish; Indian market curry paste will offer a bit more complexity and perhaps more heat. Chileheads can use Jamaican curry powder; this will give the dish a blast of heat and a brilliant yellow color. Taste! Think! Experiment!
1. Soak the rice noodles in hot water until they soften and begin to separate, about 15 minutes. Drain and set aside.
2. Put a wok or large skillet on high heat and make sure that it’s really hot. You won’t get real stir-frying without the heat. Add the oil, curry, and fish sauce and stir until they are well mixed, about 3 minutes.
3. Mix in the chicken and cook and stir until the pink color is gone, about 1 minute. If it takes longer, your pot isn’t hot enough—don’t be bashful!
4. Add the egg to the hot pan a few splashes at a time and keep stirring. The result should be little bits of cooked scrambled egg.
5. Mix in the bean sprouts, pepper strips, hot pepper, and scallions and cook and stir until the peppers and sprouts have wilted, about 4 minutes.
6. Add the noodles and cook and stir until they’re coated with the curry mixture, about 1 minute. Stir with tongs instead of a spoon to make sure that all the ingredients are evenly distributed.
Serve right away.
*Alternatively, use 1 tablespoon Indian or Jamaican curry powder + 1 additional tablespoon peanut oil
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
3 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
1 cup chopped onion
2 tablespoons chopped fresh ginger
1 teaspoon belacan or dried shrimp paste
2 tablespoons peanut oil + 2 tablespoons peanut oil for frying
8 ounces boneless chicken breast or thigh meat, cut into dice-sized pieces
2 teaspoons red chile powder
1 teaspoon salt
3½ cups coconut milk (2 14½ ounce cans)
8 ounces dried Asian egg noodles, cooked, rinsed, and drained
It wasn’t so long ago that curry was a culinary dirty word. It lumped all those spicy stews from South and Southeast Asia into a single group. More recently though, curry—originally an old English word for stew—has come to be a clear way to describe a distinct cooking technique: braising using a highly spiced cooking liquid. In this version from Burma (I know! It’s Mayanmar now …), chicken is cooked with coconut milk and fermented shrimp paste and served with noodles. A distinct take on a familiar theme.
1. Combine the garlic, onion, ginger, shrimp paste, and 2 tablespoons of oil in a food processor and purée into a paste. This is best done in a sequence of pulses that take about 4 minutes. There should be no lumps in the paste afterward.
2. Put the remaining oil in a wok or large pot over medium heat and add the garlic/onion paste. Cook, stirring frequently, until it turns golden and the raw taste is gone, about 20 minutes.
3. Mix in the chicken and chile powder, continuing to stir frequently until the chicken is cooked through, about 10 minutes.
4. Add the coconut milk and cook with frequent stirring until the liquid is very hot, about 5 minutes. Then shut the heat off right away.
5. To assemble the dish, put the cooked egg noodles at the bottom of the serving bowls and ladle the hot soup mixture over them.
Serve immediately; if you don’t, that coconut flavor will vanish.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
4 cups chopped onion
¼ cup chopped garlic
1 teaspoon belacan or dried shrimp paste
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
3 tablespoons chopped fresh ginger
2 tablespoons sliced hot red chile pepper
¼ cup peanut oil
8 cups water
1½ pounds catfish fillets, cut into 1-inch pieces*
3 tablespoons fish sauce
2 lemongrass stalks, each about 6 inches long, slit in half
8 ounces dry rice noodles, soaked, rinsed, and drained
¼ cup chopped cilantro
1 lime, cut in quarters
2 hard cooked eggs, halved
I know all about fancy fish—salmon, tuna, swordfish, flounder. I also know that a typical person in Burma isn’t going to eat them. A fish dish there is much more likely to be made with the humble catfish. This has its advantages; catfish are easily farmed in fresh water and are unlikely to be overfished the way that those tuna and swordfish are. All I ask is that you have no fear—the catfish will be delicious, I promise.
1. Combine the onion, garlic, shrimp paste, turmeric, ginger, and pepper in a blender or food processor and process until you have a thick paste with no large lumps, about 2 minutes. Pulsing will make this go much more easily.
2. Put the oil in a large pot over medium-low heat and add the onion and garlic mixture. Cook, stirring frequently, until it turns medium-brown and the raw taste is gone, about 45 minutes. You may have to lower the heat a bit during cooking to make sure the mixture doesn’t burn.
3. Add the 8 cups of water, increase the heat to high, and bring the liquid to a boil. Add the fish, fish sauce, and lemongrass. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer with occasional stirring until the fish is cooked, about 20 minutes. Discard the lemongrass.
4. To assemble the dish, put the soaked noodles in serving bowls, ladle the hot soup mixture over it, and top with the cilantro and cooked egg wedges. Squeeze some of the lime over it for an extra shot of flavor.
Note: In Myanmar, the dish is often topped with slices of Chinese crullers called yau jah guai. It might seem odd to garnish a noodle dish with doughnuts, but I assure you it’s authentic.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
3 tablespoons peanut oil
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon red chile powder
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon ground turmeric
½ pound beef chuck stew meat, cut in dice-sized cubes†
3 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger
2 tablespoons finely chopped lemongrass
2 cups chopped onion
6 cups water
1½ cups coconut milk
8 ounces dried Chinese egg noodles, cooked, rinsed, and drained
2 hard-cooked eggs, sliced
½ cup thinly sliced red onion
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
¼ cup deep-fried onion
Myanmar is a place so exotic, we rarely encounter its food. Khow suey, the country’s classic noodle soup, tells the story well, though; noodles from China and curry from India combine into flavors strong enough to make you feel ready for any jungle trek.
1. Put the oil in a wok or large skillet on high heat and add the coriander, cumin, red chile powder, salt, and turmeric and cook and stir until the spices are coated with the oil, about 1 minute.
2. Mix in the beef and cook and stir until it begins to brown, about 5 minutes.
3. Reduce the heat to medium and mix in the garlic, ginger, lemongrass, and onion and cook, stirring frequently, until the garlic has begun to brown at the edges and the onion is translucent, about 20 minutes.
4. Add the 6 cups of water to the mixture and simmer uncovered with occasional stirring until the meat is tender and about half the liquid has evaporated, about 60 minutes. If it evaporates more quickly, reduce the heat a bit.
5. Mix in the coconut milk and stir until it’s evenly distributed. Simmer, stirring occasionally, until the liquid thickens, about 5 minutes.
6. Assemble the dish by placing a serving of noodles in a large bowl, ladling the beef mixture over it, and then topping with half the sliced eggs, red onion, cilantro, and deep-fried onion.
Serve right away.
*Substitute tilapia if you must.
†In Mayanmar, they might use chicken or mutton instead.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
4 cups water
½ pound boneless chicken thigh meat
1 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons peanut oil
8 ounces thin Asian egg noodles, cooked, rinsed, and drained
¼ cup soy sauce
3 eggs beaten
2 cups sliced napa cabbage
1 cup sliced baby bok choy
¼ cup chopped scallions
¼ cup deep-fried onions
1 teaspoon ground white pepper
Here’s Indonesia’s contribution to the world of fried noodles. It’s easily identifiable as part of the same Asian-noodle-cuisine family, with its soy sauce, egg, and typical greens. It’s also unique, with its precooked chicken. And while the name means “fried noodles from Java,” I don’t think you’d wash them down with a cup of coffee. That being said, you can find them everywhere in Indonesia.
1. Bring the water to a boil in a medium pot and add the chicken and salt. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer uncovered until the chicken is done, about 10 minutes. Let cool, set the chicken aside, and separately reserve the broth.
2. Put a wok or large skillet on high heat and add the oil, cooked noodles, and soy sauce. Cook and stir until the noodles are coated with the sauce, about 2 minutes.
3. Mix in the reserved chicken meat and 1 cup of the reserved chicken broth. Cook and stir until the broth starts to boil, about 3 minutes.
4. Push the noodles and meat to the side of the pan and slowly pour the beaten eggs into the puddle of boiling liquid at the bottom. Give the broth and egg mixture an occasional stir to help form small pieces.
5. Toss the cooked egg with the noodles and mix in the cabbage, bok choy, and scallions. Cook and stir until the cabbage is tender, about 3 minutes.
6. Top with the fried onions and pepper and serve right away.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
½ cup chopped shallot or red onion
3 cloves fresh garlic
¼ cup cashew nut pieces
½ teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon chopped fresh ginger
1 teaspoon whole coriander seeds
1 teaspoon whole cumin seeds
½ teaspoon turmeric powder
3 tablespoons peanut oil
½ pound boneless chicken thigh or breast meat, cut in thin strips
2 cups chicken broth
1 stalk lemongrass, about 4 inches long, shredded
2 cups water
1 cup coconut milk
2 bunches fine rice noodles (about 6 ounces), soaked and drained
2 tablespoons chopped scallion
½ cup mung bean sprouts
Soto ayam is Indonesia’s contribution to that great noodle subcategory, chicken noodle soup. In the tradition of this region, there’s a paste of spices, rice noodles, and a dose of hot sauce added at the table.
1. Put the shallot, garlic, cashews, salt, ginger, coriander, cumin, and turmeric in a food processor and blend into a coarse paste, about 2 minutes. Set aside.
2. Put the oil in a large pot over medium heat and mix in the spice blend, stirring until they’re combined, about 2 minutes.
3. Mix in the chicken, stirring frequently until the meat is cooked on the outside and coated with the spice mixture, about 10 minutes.
4. Add the broth, lemongrass, and water and simmer covered, stirring occasionally, until the chicken is cooked through and tender, about 30 minutes.
5. Add the coconut milk and cook and stir until the broth is hot again, about 2 minutes.
6. To assemble the dish, put half the soaked noodles, scallion, and bean sprouts in a large bowl and ladle the soup over it.
Note: This dish is traditionally served with lime wedges and sambal, the Indonesian chile sauce.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
2 tablespoons peanut oil
2 cups chopped onion
3 tablespoons crushed and chopped fresh garlic
2 tablespoons crushed and chopped peeled fresh ginger
1 pound boneless beef chuck cut into 1-inch cubes*
1 cup chopped tomato
2 cups peeled and thinly sliced daikon
2 tablespoons soy sauce
4 cups beef broth
4 cups water + ¾ cup for the dough
1½ cups flour
¼ cup chopped cilantro
2 tablespoons chopped scallion greens
3 cups fresh spinach or 1 package frozen leaf spinach (about 10 ounces), defrosted
When did Tibetan appear on the American immigrant-cuisine landscape? Ten years ago, there were a couple of restaurants in Manhattan. Today, there’s a whole Little Tibet in Queens, New York, and a thriving Tibetan community in Vermont, a place that almost nobody associates with immigrants or ethnic cuisines. One of the dishes you’ll be offered in Tibetan restaurants is this comforting soup with big, chewy noodles.
1. Put the oil and onion in a large pot over medium heat and cook and stir until the onion becomes tender and translucent, about 20 minutes.
2. Mix in the garlic, ginger, and beef and cook, stirring occasionally, until the meat is well browned, about 20 minutes.
3. Raise the heat to high and add the tomato, daikon, soy sauce, beef broth, and water. When the liquid comes to a boil, reduce the heat to medium-low, cover the pot, and simmer with occasional stirring until the meat becomes tender, about 45 minutes.
4. While the meat broth is cooking, make the noodle dough by putting the flour in a large bowl and mixing in the ¾ cup of water. Work it with a spoon until it comes together and can be kneaded by hand. If it’s too dry, add water, 1 tablespoon at a time, until it’s pliable. If it’s too soft, add flour, 1 tablespoon at a time, until you have a kneadable dough.
5. Knead the dough until it springs back when you stick your thumb into it. Cover the dough with a towel and let it rest for 20 minutes.
6. After the dough has rested, cut it into quarters and then roll it out into long strips about 1-inch wide. Then either press the strips flat with a rolling pin or use a pasta machine at its thickest setting.
7. Raise the heat of the soup to high. When the liquid is boiling again, tear the dough strips into 2-inch-long pieces and toss them in the soup one at a time. Every noodle will wind up a different length and shape—don’t sweat it. Reduce the heat to medium-low, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the noodles are cooked, about 7 minutes.
8. Mix in the cilantro, scallions, and spinach and remove from the heat.
Serve right away.
I’D HEARD RUMORS of a Tibetan restaurant in New York City for years, and I think I may have walked by it once or twice. You’d think that a guy like me would drop everything, dash right in, and eat up a storm. It’s just that in a place like the Big Apple, you can’t really do that; after all, there might be ten other places (and cuisines) you’d want to try on the same block. It kills me to admit it, but self-control is called for here.
So when I was searching for Tibetan restaurants and recipes for this book and wound up watching a video of a Miss Tibet beauty pageant instead, it took me a while to get used to the idea that there were now enough Tibetans in the country to make up a “Tibetan community,” with beauty queens, service organizations, and yes, restaurants.
That video showed a woman heading down a flight of stairs and into a shop that sold Tibetan books, music, and knickknacks. Signs she walked passed made it clear that they were in Jackson Heights, the legendary Queens, New York, immigrant neighborhood. Since I spent almost a decade living a few short blocks from the scene in the video, I felt familiar enough with the area to scoot right over.
With the help of a sympathetic police officer, I found those stairs, headed down, and to my amazement there was the store, and standing at the counter was the very woman in the video, a big smile on her face and a bag of Tibetan dried cheese in her hands. That cheese piqued my curiosity—it looked like bread crumbs to me—but I was looking for noodles and this store didn’t have them.
Outside, I found a cluster of Tibetan and Nepali restaurants—okay, they were really more snack shop than restaurant—right by a closed-off street with chairs and tables. Here, on a brisk November morning, people sat and sipped from what any New Yorker would recognize as takeout coffee cups. Since I’m always ready for a cup of coffee, I walked up to a vendor and ordered one. “No coffee here,” I was told, “only Tibetan butter tea. How much salt do you take?” Mustering every last bit of courage, I ordered the mysterious concoction.
Removing the tab on the plastic lid of the container, I saw a liquid that looked like tea with milk. I was sure that a million British truck drivers were at that very moment consuming the same thing. That is, until I tasted it. Salty and buttery, this strong black tea had been flavored with milk, butter, and salt. It was a flavor combination I never had before, something like liquid, tea-flavored popcorn. Like rattlesnake chili, it was a taste you might read about a million times and still not believe it actually exists. Each time I sipped, I shook my head in amazement. Tea, salt, and butter … in a cup … one liquid … looking for all the world like takeout tea, but in reality, the unique taste of a country that was very far away.
This was all well and good, but what I really wanted were noodles. Tibetan thenthuk (page 183), to be precise. The tea vendor offered them with chicken, beef, or vegetable. I chose chicken, and while I was waiting the vendor told me that the name thenthuk (also spelled then thuk and then tuk) means “pull-drop” in Tibetan. “Pull-drop” describes how the noodles are made. First, you pull a bit of dough from a blob, and then you drop it in the boiling broth. It was his opinion that they might not really be noodles at all, and this sent me deep into the land of pointless food thought. They were made from a kneaded wheat flour dough, but not cut evenly or pressed through a die. Would this make them dropped dumplings, instead? When he handed me my container of thenthuk, it was something that any Italian would call pasta without a second thought—that alone meant that it was a noodle as far as I was concerned.
There was the fantasy—a lavishly decorated restaurant with charming servers and beautiful dishes—and the reality … a plastic container, paper napkins, and outdoor seating: 21st-century street food. My disposable tub was probably more authentic than any exotic decor could possibly be. With a cold wind and low winter sun, I might as well have been in Tibet. Yes, faraway Tibet; that is, until I tasted my thenthuk. What I had were noodles, vegetables, and bits of chicken in broth. Blindfolded, I’d swear it was Grandma’s chicken soup from anywhere in northern Europe. Jewish penicillin with somewhat funny-shaped noodles and slices of white radish that almost could have passed for potato.
The broth was golden. It was that mild liquid chicken you could find anywhere. There wasn’t much salt; after all, there was enough salt in the tea to keep a person going. And the vegetables? Slices of carrot, daikon, a few peas, and some spinach leaves. Add to that some bits of chicken that had given up their flavor to the soup long ago. What really filled the container though, was the thenthuk, thick, dull white, and nothing like any dropped dumpling. They were solid, rough-cut noodles—no doubt about it. It all added up to a meal of some amazingly mild food in one of New York’s most exotic neighborhoods.
There were also tiny containers of hot sauce; one was brown vinegar with sliced bits of green chile and the other was the red, gloppy stuff that everybody knows. Grandma would have thought they were a poor substitute for horseradish, but otherwise, the whole thing was the tamest immigrant-cuisine dish I’d ever tasted. Something that could be enjoyed by people who feared tacos and chow mein. This is what they ate in far-off Shangri-La? It was the perfect entry-level adventure eating dish, washed down with butter tea—the most alien taste in all of New York City.
What a combo.
*If you can find yak or mutton, they’ll give a more authentic flavor, but beef is fine. Yak and mutton need a longer cooking time in step 3, though; simmer for 90 minutes instead.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
3 tablespoons peanut oil
1 teaspoon fenugreek seeds
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
½ teaspoon Sichuan peppercorns
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 cup chopped onion
½ cup carrot strips
2 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
1 tablespoon finely chopped ginger
1 tablespoon chopped fresh hot red chile peppers
1 cup green bell pepper strips
8 ounces boneless lamb meat, cut into thin strips
8 ounces dry Chinese noodles or spaghetti, cooked, rinsed, and drained
1 cup mung bean sprouts, rinsed and drained
½ cup chopped scallion greens
Wedged into a corner between Tibet and India and almost totally walled in by huge mountain ranges, Nepal takes its culinary influences from the south, with a love of curries and chiles, and the north, with a reliance on soy sauce and bean sprouts.
In a remote place like Nepal, this dish is typically made with Chinese dried noodles—the ones called lo mein in much of the world. It’s not limited to that, though. You can just as easily find cooks using spaghetti in the same dish. Both of those noodles have a way of traveling to unexpected places, so this should be no surprise.
1. Put a wok or large skillet on high heat and add the oil, fenugreek, turmeric, peppercorns, and pepper and cook and stir until the spices are coated with the oil and begin to pop, about 1 minute.
2. Mix in the soy sauce and onion and cook and stir until the onion is translucent, about 4 minutes.
3. Mix in the carrot, garlic, ginger, hot chiles, and bell pepper strips and cook and stir until the carrot starts to become tender, about 4 minutes.
4. Mix in the lamb meat and cook and stir until it’s barely cooked, about 3 minutes.
5. Add the cooked noodles and toss with the other ingredients until the noodles are hot and everything else is evenly distributed, about 3 minutes.
6. Mix in the bean sprouts and scallion greens and cook and stir until the sprouts are tender, about 1 minute.
Serve right away. Nepalese restaurants typically offer ketchup on the side.
MAKES 1 SERVING
1 tablespoon peanut oil
1 cup chopped onion
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
½ cup chopped red and/or green bell pepper (you can buy presliced frozen mixed pepper strips in the supermarket freezer section)
1 tablespoon chopped fresh hot red chile pepper
½ teaspoon whole mustard seeds
½ teaspoon ground garam masala powder
½ teaspoon whole cumin seed
¼ teaspoon asafoetida (also called hing)
2 cups water
1 packet of instant ramen noodles, including the broth mix
Noodles aren’t a traditional Indian food, but they’ve found their way into the nation’s diet. One of the most popular forms in India is instant ramen. In addition to the same chicken and seafood varieties that Americans are offered are a range of flavors of varying degrees of spiciness (see pages 98 and 194). Those instant packs fit in with one Indian food tradition perfectly—the idea that anything can be improved with a bit more seasoning.
Oh yes … one serving? Well, people don’t usually make instant noodles for a crowd, and prepared as is for one they can be pretty depressing. This is a good compromise.
1. Put the oil, onion, garlic, bell pepper, and hot pepper in a pan over medium-high heat and cook and stir until the onion begins to brown at the edges, about 15 minutes.
2. Mix in the mustard seeds, garam masala, cumin, and asafoetida and cook and stir until the spices are coated with oil, about 3 minutes.
3. Increase the heat to high and add 2 cups of water. When the water comes to a boil, add the noodle seasoning packet and the noodles themselves. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook until the noodles are tender, about 2 minutes.
Serve right away with a good chutney or Indian pickle.
WITH ALL THE THINGS YOU CAN DO with instant ramen, some people treat it as an ingredient rather than a dish. These five suggestions are just a beginning.
1. Season the broth with soy sauce, fish sauce, miso, or curry paste. Add one teaspoon per serving of any one of these. Don’t rule out hot sauces—anything from peppers in vinegar to Tabasco is a possibility. I personally find hot mustard to be a treat (use those packets they give out at Chinese takeout shops). You can combine these condiments with any of the add-ins that follow.
2. Add fresh vegetables. Those white mung bean sprouts are a traditional Asian ingredient and a good start. Toss a handful of sprouts into the boiling broth and you’ll add nutrition and texture with very little effort. Napa cabbage requires a bit of work to cut into strips, but with its bright green color it does a good job of jazzing up the bowl. Shredded carrots are great too. If you buy them already shredded in the supermarket produce section, I promise not to tell anybody. Frozen peas or snow peas make a nice, easy addition as well.
3. You can add an egg by breaking it into the boiling broth before you add the noodles. Just let it sit in the hot liquid for about 1 minute, then give it a few stirs to disperse it. You can add slices of hard-boiled egg, too. You can also top a bowl of ramen with a fried egg, although it will mean getting a second pot dirty, which kind of defeats the purpose of eating instant ramen in the first place.
4. Fish or seafood may seem a bit lavish, but a small can of tuna or salmon added to a bowl of ramen can give it a shot of protein and flavor. Frozen shrimp or seafood mix can be stirred into the broth after you add the seasoning pack and before you add the noodles. I suggest about half a cup per pack of ramen.
5. For me, the toughest addition is meat. Hawaiians will put pieces of Spam in theirs. If that’s not to your liking, how about a bit of precooked bacon? The thin slices of beef and lamb sold for hot pot in Chinese and Korean markets are great if you find them fresh and in small quantities.
(Note: Do not under any circumstances refreeze packaged frozen meat slices that have been defrosted!)
Don’t be afraid to mix and match—a pack of ramen with bean sprouts, an egg, and some hot mustard is an awful lot better than a pack of ramen all by itself.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
2 tablespoons peanut oil
1 tablespoon whole cumin seed
2 teaspoons garam masala powder
2 tablespoons ginger garlic paste
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 cup chopped red onion
2 tablespoons chopped fresh green hot pepper
1 cup thinly sliced carrot
1 cup thinly sliced napa cabbage
1 cup mung bean sprouts
2 tablespoons tomato ketchup
12 ounces fresh lo mein noodles or 8 ounces spaghetti, cooked, rinsed, and drained
2 tablespoons sliced scallions
What happens when a fusion dish morphs so much that it no longer resembles the cuisine from which it came? Vegetarian Hakka noodles are held forth as a dish from the Hakka region of China that has been re-created in India’s Chinatowns for at least a century. It’s just that somehow, they’ve become Indian. Actually, I thought that at least the noodles themselves were Chinese—that is, until I saw Indian home cooks using spaghetti and adding ketchup.
1. Put a wok or large skillet on high heat and add the oil and cumin seed. Cook and stir until the seeds start to brown, about 2 minutes.
2. Mix in the garam masala powder, ginger garlic paste, and soy sauce and cook and stir until these ingredients combine with the hot oil, about 1 minute.
3. Add the onion, pepper, carrot, and cabbage and cook, stirring frequently, until the carrot is tender, about 5 minutes.
4. Mix in the bean sprouts and ketchup and continue to stir frequently until the bean sprouts are tender and the ketchup combines with the sauce, about 2 minutes.
5. Add the cooked noodles and toss until they’re hot, coated with sauce, and the vegetables are evenly distributed, about 3 minutes.
6. Remove from the heat, toss with the scallions, and serve right away.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
4 ounces sevai (about 2 cups)
2 tablespoons peanut oil
1 teaspoon whole mustard seed
1 teaspoon urad dhal
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon chopped fresh green chiles
1 tablespoon chopped fresh red chiles
½ cup shredded coconut (frozen is easiest)
½ teaspoon ground asafoetida (also called hing)
½ cup chopped cashew nuts
1 tablespoon fresh curry leaves
Yes, there are noodles in India that aren’t instant or imported. These, called sevai, are from the deep south and are similar to the rice noodles you see all over Asia. Similar or not, when you combine them with these distinctly Indian flavors, there’s no question about their origin.
1. Soak the sevai by putting them in a large bowl and pouring very hot water over them until they’re barely covered. Cover the bowl (a large plate works fine here) and let stand for 15 minutes. Drain the sevai, rinse them in cold water, and drain again. Set aside.
2. Put the oil in a skillet over high heat and add the mustard seed, urad dhal, and salt. Cook and stir until the mustard seeds start popping, about 1 minute.
3. Reduce the heat to medium and mix in the green and red chiles, coconut, asafoetida, cashews, and curry leaves and cook, stirring occasionally until the chiles become tender, about 5 minutes.
4. Mix in the soaked sevai and keep cooking with occasional stirring until the noodles have absorbed the flavors and the chiles and cashews are evenly distributed.
Serve right away.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
2 tablespoons tukmaria seeds (ask for falooda seeds)
4 ounces sevai (or fine rice noodles broken into small pieces) soaked in hot water, rinsed, and drained
½ cup rose syrup (look for the red liquid, not rose water)
4 cups whole milk
4 scoops (about 1 pint) kulfi or Indian ice cream
We know noodles. Mostly savory and sometimes sweet. But a drink? Falooda is easily the world’s most popular noodle drink. You’ll find it anywhere Indian or Pakistani snacks are sold—an ice cream shake with noodles.
Note that while this dish uses quite a few unique ingredients, you can find them all at any Indian grocery. Indeed, choosing between the flavors of Indian ice cream should be worth a trip in itself.
1. Soak the tukmaria seeds in 4 cups of warm water until tender, about 1 hour. Drain and set aside.
2. Put the soaked noodles and rose syrup at the bottom of 4 tall glasses.
3. Pour the milk over the noodle mixture.
4. Mix in a portion of the soaked tukmaria seeds.
5. Top each glass with a scoop of the ice cream.
Serve cold with a straw and a spoon. You can eat, drink, and lick a falooda all at the same time.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
¼ cup ginger garlic paste
1 teaspoon hot chile powder
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 pound shelled and deveined shrimp
2 tablespoons peanut oil
1 teaspoon whole mustard seeds
¼ teaspoon saffron threads
2 whole cloves
½ cup cashew nut pieces
½ cup chopped carrot
1 cup chopped cabbage
½ cup sliced leek greens
2 tablespoons fresh curry leaves
1 cup chopped red onion
½ cup yogurt
2 cups sevai Indian rice noodles (or fine rice noodles broken into small pieces), dry
2 tablespoons chopped cilantro leaves
1 tablespoon chopped mint leaves
String hoppers are a Tamil favorite, found in Tamil regions of both India and Sri Lanka. This dish is called a biryani for its similarity to the classic Indian rice dish; you may need a moment to see that what you’ve got here are really noodles.
1. Combine the ginger garlic paste, chile, turmeric, and coriander in a large bowl. Make sure there are no lumps of spice powder.
2. Add the shrimp, mix until it’s coated with the spice paste, and let marinate in the refrigerator for at least 15 minutes.
3. Put the oil, mustard seeds, saffron, and cloves in a wok or large skillet over high heat and cook and stir until the mustard seeds start to pop, about 2 minutes.
4. Add the cashew nuts and cook and stir until they begin to brown, about 3 minutes.
5. Mix in the carrot, cabbage, leek, curry leaves, and onion, reduce the heat to medium, and cook, stirring frequently, until the vegetables are tender, about 15 minutes.
6. Mix in the marinated shrimp and cook and stir until the shrimp turns opaque, about 3 minutes.
7. Mix in the yogurt and cook and stir until it combines with the liquid at the bottom of the pan to form a sauce, about 3 minutes. If there’s no liquid after the yogurt has been added, mix in 1 cup of water.
8. Mix in the noodle pieces and cook with frequent stirring until they absorb the liquid and become tender, about 3 minutes. If the pan dries out before this happens, add water, ¼ cup at a time, until they soften.
9. Toss with the cilantro and mint leaves and serve right away.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
2 tablespoons peanut oil
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander
½ teaspoon ground turmeric
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons ginger garlic paste
2 tablespoons chopped fresh green chile
2 cups chopped onion
1 pound ground beef
¼ cup plain yogurt
1 cup canned crushed tomato
1 pound spaghetti, cooked and drained
Here’s Pakistan’s version of spaghetti and meat sauce. Something that looks a bit like the famous dish from Bologna, Italy (page 119), but with a twist or two reflecting the local flavors.
1. Put the oil in a heavy pot over medium heat and mix in the cumin, coriander, turmeric, and salt. Cook and stir until the spices are coated with the oil, about 1 minute.
2. Mix in the ginger garlic paste and cook and stir until the pastes have combined with the oil and spices, about 1 minute.
3. Add the chile and onions and keep cooking, stirring occasionally until the onions have absorbed the spices and become translucent, about 10 minutes.
4. Mix in the ground beef and use the back of a spoon to keep breaking it into the smallest pieces possible. Cook until the beef and onions are both browned, about 20 minutes.
5. Add the yogurt and tomatos, reduce the heat to medium-low, and cook, stirring occasionally until all the flavors have combined, about 20 minutes.
6. Finally, add the cooked spaghetti to the pot and toss so that all the ingredients are evenly distributed.
Serve right away.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
1 tablespoon salt + 1 teaspoon salt
1 cup soaked and rinsed yellow split peas
1 cup soaked and rinsed chickpeas*
1 cup soaked and rinsed red kidney beans*
2 cups chopped spinach (or 1 cup chopped frozen spinach, thawed)
¼ cup peanut oil
1 cup chopped onion
1 pound ground beef
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 pound spaghetti, dry
1 cup plain Greek-style yogurt
1 tablespoon chopped, fresh mint leaves
1 teaspoon red chile powder
2 tablespoons chopped cilantro
In a way, this dish from Afghanistan isn’t so different from Cincinnati chili served over spaghetti. But, with the yogurt and mint, it also strongly recalls its country of origin. Then again, meat sauce is as universal as noodles, right?
1. Bring 8 cups of water to a boil over high heat and add the tablespoon of salt, split peas, chickpeas, and red kidney beans. (If you’re using canned kidney beans and/or chickpeas, add them after the yellow splits have cooked for 45 minutes.) Lower the heat to a simmer, cover, and cook, stirring occasionally, until the beans become tender, about 60 minutes.
2. While the beans are simmering, cook the oil and onion in a large skillet over high heat. Cook and stir until the onion starts to brown, about 5 minutes.
3. Mix in the beef and use a wooden spoon to break up the clumps of meat. Keep cooking, stirring occasionally, until the meat has browned, about 10 more minutes.
4. Mix the tomato paste, salt, and pepper into the meat mixture and reduce the heat to medium-low. Continue to cook until the tomato is absorbed by the meat, about 15 more minutes. Set aside until the dish is ready to be assembled.
5. Back to the bean pot … After the beans are cooked, add 4 cups of water, increase the heat to high, and bring to a boil. Add the spaghetti, lower the heat to medium-low, and simmer until the spaghetti is just about cooked, about 9 minutes. Then mix in the spinach. When it’s wilted, about 1 minute later, drain any excess liquid, then mix in the cooked meat mixture and toss until all the ingredients are evenly distributed. Remove from the heat.
6. While the spaghetti is cooking—yes, there’s a third component—make the yogurt sauce by mixing the yogurt, mint, chile, and cilantro together in a large bowl. Set it aside until the dish is ready to be assembled.
7. Top the spaghetti, meat, and beans with the spiced yogurt mixture and serve right away.
*You can substitute rinsed canned chickpeas and kidney beans here, just be sure to rinse and drain them before you add them in, and note the timing change in step 1.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
¼ cup olive oil
1 tablespoon black cumin seeds
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon dried chile flakes
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
2 bay leaves
2 cups chopped onion
¼ cup crushed and chopped fresh garlic
1 cup sliced carrot (we’re going for disks here, not sticks)
1 cup chopped red bell pepper
1 pound boneless lamb stew meat, cut into dice-sized pieces
1 quart chicken broth (page 87)
1 cup chopped potato
1 cup chopped fresh tomato
1 pound dry lo mein or spaghetti, cooked, rinsed, and drained
As a classic dish from Uzbekistan, lagman is comfort food from a very faraway place. Maybe it’s all that garlic, but when you eat it, you get a cozy sense of the familiar and a taste of the exotic all at the very same time.
1. Put a heavy pot over medium heat and add the oil, black cumin seeds, cumin, coriander, chile flakes, salt, pepper, and bay leaves and cook and stir until the spices are coated with the oil, about 2 minutes.
2. Reduce the heat to medium-low and mix in the onion, garlic, carrot, and bell pepper and cook, stirring frequently, until the onion becomes translucent and the bell pepper becomes tender, about 20 minutes.
3. Add the lamb and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until the meat is browned and the vegetables have become very soft, about 20 minutes.
4. Raise the heat to high, add the broth, potato, and tomato and bring to a boil. After the stew has boiled for 1 minute, reduce the heat to medium-low and cook, stirring occasionally, until the meat is tender and the onions have almost dissolved, about 40 minutes. If the mixture becomes too dry, add water, 1 cup at a time, to bring to a simmer again.
5. To serve, place a heap of cooked noodles or spaghetti at the bottom of each serving bowl and ladle the stew over the noodles.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
8 ounces natural unflavored beef jerky
1 tablespoon salt
8 ounces medium egg noodles
1 cup thinly sliced red onion
1 tablespoon whole cumin seeds
1 tablespoon butter
How is it that this combination of commonly available ingredients has become such a unique dish? Indeed, I spent so much time dwelling on Uzbek recipes for dried meat that I failed to notice that it was awfully similar to plain beef jerky. Just remember, you don’t need cured mutton or horse for this dish; nomads might have used the meat of a variety of animals, but they used beef often enough. Jerky is just fine. And I assure you, 99.9 percent of Americans have never tasted anything like this dish, even if they know all the ingredients.
1. Bring 8 cups of water to a boil in a large saucepan over high heat and add the beef jerky. Stir a few times, reduce the heat to medium-low, and simmer, stirring ocasionally, until the meat is tender, about 15 minutes. Drain, reserving the cooking water, and set aside.
2. Cut the boiled jerky meat into matchstick-sized strips. Set aside.
3. Return the beef-cooking water to a boil and mix in the salt and noodles. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, stirring frequently, until the noodles are tender, about 8 minutes. Drain.
4. Put the chopped cooked beef, cooked noodles, onion, cumin seed, and butter in a bowl and toss until all the ingredients are evenly distributed.
Serve right away.
MAKES 6 SERVINGS
1 pound bacon, chopped
1 pound wide egg noodles, cooked and drained
1 pound whole milk cottage cheese
1 teaspoon ground white pepper
3 eggs
¼ cup heavy cream
¼ cup butter
¼ cup unseasoned dry breadcrumbs
Let’s not beat around the bush—this is a rich dish. It’s food for people who work hard in a very harsh climate. Indeed, you can feel the winter winds howling across Siberia while you’re cooking it. Eat it and you’ll see that it can beat any blizzard.
1. Put the bacon in a large skillet over medium-high heat and cook, turning the bacon until it’s browned on both sides, about 15 minutes. Reserve the bacon and its fat.
2. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
3. Combine the cooked noodles with the bacon and bacon fat in a large bowl. Toss together until the bacon is evenly distributed throughout the noodles.
4. Put the cottage cheese in a separate large bowl and mix in the white pepper, eggs, and cream, beating with a large, wooden spoon until everything is evenly combined, about 3 minutes.
5. Use half the butter to grease an ovenproof baking dish and then cover the bottom with about a third of the noodle and bacon mixture. Then cover that with half the cheese and egg mixture, then put in another third of the noodle and bacon mixture, cover the second third of the noodles with the remaining half of the cheese and egg mixture, and finally top with the remaining third of the noodles.
6. Sprinkle the breadcrumbs on top of the casserole and put bits of the remaining butter over the crumbs. Bake uncovered until the breadcrumbs have browned, about 35 minutes.
That’s butter, noodles, cheese, noodles, cheese, noodles, breadcrumbs, and finally, butter. Whew!
Serve hot.
Note: No additional salt needed; the bacon will have plenty!
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
1 package (12 ounces) medium egg noodles
1 tablespoon salt
3 cups chopped fresh arugula
1 cup plain, whole milk Greek-style yogurt
1 cup walnut pieces
Just when you think you’ve seen every possible way that a pile of noodles can be served, you encounter a new cuisine and find them being prepared in a way you never would have guessed.
1. Bring 3 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot over high heat. Add the noodles and salt, reduce the heat to medium, and let cook uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the noodles begin to become tender, about 3 minutes.
2. Add the arugula and keep cooking until the noodles are fully cooked and the arugula is wilted, about 2 minutes. Drain and put on plates for serving.
3. Put a scoop of the yogurt and a handful of walnuts on top of the cooked noodles.
Serve right away.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon dried chile flakes
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 cup chopped onion
2 tablespoons crushed and chopped fresh garlic
2 cups fresh mushroom slices*
1 cup chopped fresh tomato
12 ounces wide egg noodles, cooked, drained, and tossed with 1 tablespoon butter
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
1 teaspoon lemon zest
There are times when you can throw a few ingredients in a pan, put them on top of a pile of noodles, and wind up with something far better than you ever expected. Indeed, this seems to be the whole idea of Turkish noodle cookery.
1. Put the olive oil, chile flakes, salt, pepper, and onion in a skillet over medium heat and cook, stirring frequently until the onion becomes tender, about 15 minutes.
2. Mix in the garlic and mushrooms, stirring occasionally until the mushrooms are cooked through, about 15 minutes.
3. Mix in the chopped tomato and cook, stirring occasionally until the tomato breaks down and its flavors combine with the other ingredients, about 20 minutes.
4. Put the buttered noodles on serving plates and cover with the cooked mushroom mixture. Sprinkle with the parsley and lemon zest.
Serve right away.
Note: You can make the mushroom mixture (steps 1–3) in advance and reheat before serving with the noodles.
*Plain white mushrooms are fine here, but try using shiitake or other varieties if you can.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
2 cups plain yogurt
2 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
½ teaspoon of salt
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
1 tablespoon chopped mint leaves
1 pound bucatini, or thick spaghetti, cooked, rinsed in cold water, and drained
½ cup raw almonds
1 teaspoon paprika
Spaghetti and yogurt? Really? Or more precisely, spaghetti with some great Middle Eastern flavors. It’s a Syrian favorite.
1. Combine the yogurt, garlic, salt, parsley, and mint in a large bowl. Mix well, cover, and let stand in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour in order for the flavors to combine.
2. Add the cooked pasta and toss so that all the strands are coated evenly and the ingredients are well distributed. Sprinkle with the almonds and paprika and let stand for 15 more minutes so the pasta can absorb the flavors.
Serve cold or at room temperature.
MAKES 6 SERVINGS
¼ cup peanut oil
1 teaspoon ground allspice
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon salt + ½ teaspoon salt for the béchamel
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
½ teaspoon ground cardamom
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 cups chopped onion
1 pound ground lamb
1 cup canned crushed tomatoes or passata
½ cup butter
½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
½ teaspoon ground white pepper
½ cup all-purpose flour
5 cups whole milk
2 eggs, beaten
1 pound dried penne pasta, cooked for half the time indicated on the package, rinsed and drained.
Oil or oil spray for the baking dish
Sometimes it’s possible to tell the origins of a dish from its description. A pasta sauce with pork, tomato, and herbs … Italy, right? Soy sauce, fresh ginger, and garlic … Chinese? And a rich baked tray of pasta, meat, and dairy … That’s got to be from someplace in Italy’s far north. Except that it isn’t. This rich baked dish comes from Egypt. It’s hearty enough for the Alps, though, and rich enough for the coldest of days.
1. Put the oil, allspice, turmeric, thyme, salt, black pepper, cardamom, and cinnamon in a large skillet over medium heat and cook and stir until the spices are coated with oil, about 1 minute.
2. Mix in the onions and cook, stirring frequently, until they are translucent and browned at the edges, about 15 minutes.
3. Add the ground lamb and continue to stir frequently until it’s well browned, about 15 minutes. Use the back of a wooden spoon to break up big clumps and keep the pieces of meat as small as possible.
4. Mix in the tomato and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the flavors have combined, about 5 minutes. Set aside.
5. Melt the butter in a separate large pan over medium heat and mix in the ½ teaspoon salt, nutmeg, white pepper, and flour and stir continuously until the mixture becomes a thick paste, about 3 minutes.
6. Watch carefully here! In order to get a proper sauce to form, you’ll have to use the following technique. Mix in ¼ cup of milk and whisk with the flour paste. When it’s fully absorbed, after about 1 minute, add another ¼ cup of milk. After the flour paste has absorbed 1 cup of milk this way, add ½ cup of milk at a time. When you’ve gotten the flour paste to absorb 3 cups of milk—it should be expanded and gloppy by now—you can add milk 1 cup at a time.
7. When all the milk and flour have combined, slowly whisk in the beaten eggs. If you add the eggs slowly enough and whisk quickly enough, they won’t scramble. Remove from the heat and set aside.
8. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.
9. Combine the cooked pasta with half the finished sauce and toss so that the pasta pieces are evenly coated with the sauce.
10. Oil the bottom of a 4-quart baking dish and cover with half the pasta and sauce mixture. Next, cover that layer with the cooked meat mixture, and then put the rest of the pasta on top. Finally, cover with the remaining béchamel. Bake the assembled tray of pasta, meat, and sauce until the top has browned, about 60 minutes.
Let cool for at least 15 minutes, slice, and serve.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
¼ cup peanut oil
2 cups chopped onion, puréed in a food processor
2 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
2 tablespoons berbere spice mixture
1½ cups canned crushed tomato or passata
1 teaspoon salt
½ cup water
1 pound spaghetti, cooked and drained*
With the unmistakable look of classic spaghetti and tomato sauce and the strong fragrance of berbere spice, this Ethiopian dish is a real surprise. For a brief while long ago, Ethiopia was an Italian colony. Not much Italian is left there, but spaghetti remains.
1. Put the oil, onion, and garlic in a large pan over medium-low heat and cook, stirring frequently, until the onion turns golden, about 30 minutes.
2. Mix in the berbere, tomatoes, salt, and water. Continue to cook uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the mixture has combined and the raw taste is gone, about 20 minutes.
3. Toss with the cooked spaghetti and serve.
*Macaroni is also used in this dish. And while it’s not authentic, ziti or other large pasta shapes hold their own when paired with this sauce.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
2 cups all-purpose flour + flour for kneading
¼ teaspoon salt + ¼ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 egg
½ cup whole milk + 6 cups for cooking the noodles
2 tablespoons sugar
2 cinnamon sticks
2 tablespoons butter
When I first heard that South Africans had a traditional noodle dish, I was ready for heat, acidity, and sweetness. I expected something that would go with a big barbecue. Instead, I found melksnysels, the most gentle recipe I could ever imagine. It’s best thought of as cake braised in sweetened milk.
1. Combine the flour, ¼ teaspoon of salt, baking powder, egg, and ½ cup of milk in a large bowl and mix until you have a stiff dough. I suggest you start with a large wooden spoon and then work the mixture with your hands until the dough forms. If the dough is too soft, add flour, 1 tablespoon at a time, until it firms up. If it’s too hard to knead, add milk, 1 tablespoon at a time, until it’s kneadable.
2. Sprinkle some flour on a flat surface and knead the dough on it. Knead until a thumb pressed into the mass makes a dent and the dent springs back, about 7 minutes. Then wrap the dough in a kitchen towel or plastic wrap and let rest for about 20 minutes.
3. Use a pasta machine to flatten the dough into a thin sheet. A final setting of 4 will work fine. This dough is really fragile and may need more trips through the machine than most other doughs; just bear with it and it will come out right. Cut the dough into noodles about ½-inch wide and 4 inches long and let them rest on a floured surface.
4. Put the 6 cups of milk, sugar, ¼ tablespoon of salt, and cinnamon sticks in a large pot and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Be careful: if it overheats, it will boil over easily.
5. Put the noodles in the simmering milk and cook, stirring occasionally, until they’re tender, about 3 minutes.
6. Use a slotted spoon or strainer with a handle to remove the noodles from the pot. Then put them on serving plates.
7. To serve, ladle some of the sweetened cooking milk over the noodles and top with a pat of butter.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 pound boneless beef chuck cut into ½-inch cubes
2 cups chopped onion
2 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
1 cup canned crushed tomatoes or passata
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
2 tablespoons harissa (North African chile paste)
1 teaspoon Spanish paprika
2 bay leaves
3 cups water
1 pound spaghetti, cooked and drained
Yet another addition to the spaghetti and meat sauce canon, this time with stewed beef and North African spices. And if you doubt that Tunisians actually eat spaghetti, check with the International Pasta Organization—its statistics tell us that Tunisia is third in the world for pasta consumption per capita. The typical Tunisian eats far more pasta than the average American.
1. Put the oil and beef in a large skillet over high heat and cook, stirring, until the meat is browned—not gray!—about 10 minutes. Remove the meat from the pot and reserve. Do not remove the skillet from the heat.
2. Reduce the heat to medium-low and add the onions and garlic. Cook, stirring, until the onions are transparent and the brown bits left by the meat are dissolved into the onion mixture, about 10 minutes.
3. Return the cooked beef to the skillet and add the tomatoes, salt, turmeric, harissa, paprika, and bay leaves. Cook, stirring, until the spices have dissolved, then add the water and simmer until the meat becomes very tender and all that remains of the liquid is a thick sauce, about 90 minutes.
4. Serve over spaghetti.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
1½ cups crumbled feta cheese
1½ cups whole milk
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
6 eggs
8 ounces spaghetti, cooked, rinsed, and drained
3 tablespoons butter
Sometimes you wonder just how simple a food can be. Pastitsio, or baked pasta as it’s prepared in much of eastern Europe, is normally pretty complicated. Not only is there that pasta, there can be meat, more than one sauce, and multiple cheeses and seasonings. Not in Albania. This is baked pasta in the simplest possible form. So much so that it becomes an entirely different dish. Give it a try. I mean … how many Albanian dishes have you made before?
1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.
2. Combine the feta, milk, salt, pepper, and eggs in a large bowl and mix well. The eggs should be beaten and fully combined with the milk and feta.
3. Butter a 2-quart baking dish and spread with one-third of the cheese/milk/egg mixture. Then lay three-quarters of the cooked spaghetti in a flat layer over it. Then, cover with the remaining cheese/milk/egg mixture. Finally, spread the remaining spaghetti over it.
4. Bake until the spaghetti on top has browned, about 60 minutes.
Let cool 15 minutes before serving.
MAKES 1 KUGEL,
ABOUT 8 SERVINGS
2 tablespoons butter + 2 tablespoons for the baking dish
4 cups sliced red onions
½ teaspoon salt + 1 tablespoon for boiling the noodles
1 cup plain farmer cheese (about one 7½ ounce package)
2 cups sour cream
4 beaten eggs
½ cup sugar
½ cup light brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon ground cloves
1 cup raisins
1 cup chopped walnuts
1 pound egg noodles, cooked and drained
This sweet noodle and onion dessert is part of the eastern European Jewish culinary tradition. For many people I know, it’s a holiday reminder that there’s more to noodles than spaghetti and meat sauce (page 54) or lo mein (page 65). If that’s not enough for you, this is one of the very few dishes in this book that can be gratifyingly washed down with a cup of coffee.
1. Melt the butter in a skillet over medium-low heat. Then add the onions and salt, and cook, stirring, until the onions are a deep golden color, about 45 minutes. Remember: When you caramelize onions like this, time is your friend and heat is your enemy. You may have to lower the heat to prevent scorching. Set the onions aside when ready.
2. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.
3. Combine the farmer cheese with the sour cream, eggs, sugar, brown sugar, cinnamon, cloves, raisins, walnuts, and cooked noodles. Mix well so that all the ingredients are evenly combined.
4. Butter a 9 x 13-inch baking dish, add the noodle mixture, and then bake, covered, until the eggs firm, about 60 minutes. Remove the cover and bake until the noodles on top are well browned, about 30 minutes.
Serve warm with a cup of strong hot tea or coffee.
MOST OF US KNOW THE BASICS: no pork, no shellfish, no cheeseburgers. And if you visit kosher homes on a regular basis, you’ll have experienced far more. Kosher laws, or kashrut, are part of basic Judaism. Following them properly helps create the structure for an observant Jewish home life. If you keep a kosher home, you’ll understand the issues at hand here in a profound and personal way. The rest of us need to study up a bit for the times we’re either invited over or hosting observant guests.
The baseline rules are spelled out in the Old Testament. And in the ensuing thousands of years, Jewish scholars have analyzed, refined, and clarified them. For the purposes of this book, it’s enough to know that permitted foods are divided into three groups: meat, dairy, and neutral. Meat and dairy must be kept separate; hence the banning of cheeseburgers. This is true for all other dishes too. For a plate of spaghetti and meat sauce to be kosher, not only would its ingredients have to be kosher, it would also have to have absolutely no dairy products in it. Just meat and “neutral” ingredients.
In theory, eggs are neutral, but in practice, it’s much more complicated. To be kosher, eggs have to come from kosher chickens and be free of blood spots. This means checking each egg for blood spots after it has been cracked open and before it’s added to the dough. In addition, eggs from a kosher chicken lose their kosher status if the chicken dies by natural causes before the eggs are consumed.
During the holiday of Passover, things get trickier. An important part of the holiday is the avoidance of leavened grain. And it’s this process of leavening, the way wheat expands and becomes pliable when wet, that makes noodles made from wheat flour tender and, well … delicious. Experts may debate the correctness of noodles made from other grains like rice flour or potato starch, and I will leave the debate to them. My suggestion? Put noodles aside for Passover and make something else.
The rest of the year, noodles made with kosher eggs can be served alongside anything, but you might want to be extra-safe and leave the eggs out. Noodles made from the basic dried noodles recipe on page 21 using durum semolina flour will do the job well. If you must have more richness, substitute ½ cup olive oil for half of the water when you’re mixing the dough. This will make your noodles vegan too, not a bad combination.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
2 tablespoons butter
2 cups sliced onions
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
5 cups shredded cabbage
1 recipe egg noodles cut into ½ x 3-inch strips, or 1 package (about 12 ounces) broad egg noodles, cooked, rinsed, and drained
1 cup sour cream
Ah! Noodles and shredded cabbage together in a pan; obviously Chinese, right? Nope. It’s Hungarian and features sour cream, something that never made it into anybody’s wok.
1. Put the butter, onions, salt, and pepper in a large skillet and cook, stirring frequently, over medium-low heat until the onions turn translucent and begin to brown at the edges, about 20 minutes.
2. Mix in the cabbage and cook with occasional stirring until it’s tender, about 20 minutes.
3. Remove from the heat and immediately mix in the cooked noodles and the sour cream. Toss until the cream covers the noodles and cabbage evenly.
Serve right away.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
¼ cup butter
1 cup coarsely crushed walnuts
3 tablespoons sugar
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon lemon zest
½ recipe egg noodles (page 23) cut in ½ x 3-inch strips, or 8 ounces broad egg noodles, cooked and drained in either case
Most Americans would never think of putting noodles and walnuts together. That doesn’t mean that other people wouldn’t. In Turkey, noodles and walnuts are combined with arugula (page 220 to make a savory dish; in Hungary, a bit of cinnamon and sugar is added to make this sweet dessert.
1. Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium-low heat and add the walnuts, sugar, cinnamon, and lemon zest. Cook and stir until the sugar has dissolved in the butter and coated the walnuts.
2. Put the cooked noodles in a large bowl and toss with the butter and nut mixture.
Serve right away. It’s supposed to be warm.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon ground allspice
½ teaspoon ground cloves
1 pound ground lamb
2 cups chopped onions
3 tablespoons crushed and chopped fresh garlic
1 cup red wine
2 cups canned crushed tomatoes
1 pound spaghetti, cooked and drained
Well, here we are again in that vast world of spaghetti with meat sauce. This time we’re in Greece, where the spices are different, the meat is lamb, and there’s a unique way of browning the meat and onions together. It’s the same, but different.
1. Put the olive oil, salt, pepper, cinnamon, allspice, and cloves in a large skillet over medium heat and cook, stirring, until the spices are fragrant and coated with oil, about 3 minutes.
2. Add the lamb, onions, and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally until the onions are translucent and the meat has browned, about 20 minutes.
3. Mix in the red wine and tomatoes and cook, stirring occasionally, until the raw taste is gone and about a quarter of the liquid has evaporated, about 30 minutes.
4. Remove from the heat and serve over the cooked spaghetti.
IF YOU TAKE A LOOK at how foods spread a thousand years ago, there was an obvious vector—the Silk Road. The trade route from Venice to Beijing transported spices, recipes, and even livestock. Both noodles and dumplings were carried by Silk Road traders, as were sheep and chickens. Today, the Silk Road has been replaced by container ships, airliners, and railroads, and when foods jump from one culture to another, they’re propelled by immigration. It’s a bit more scattershot, but the results are even more interesting. If you want material proof, head into a local Chinese restaurant. Although Chinese American is by no means the only global adaptation of the Emperor’s cuisine, the sheer number of Chinese restaurants in the United States tells a story in itself.
Chinese dishes morphed as they spread around the world; it’s something you can see clearly in this book. Our own chicken lo mein (recipe page 65) is a close cousin to Filipino pancit bihon (page 139), Singaporean fried curry noodles (page 169), and Nepali chow chow (page 189). All of these dishes began when Chinese expats started cooking with a mixture of local and traditional ingredients, and all are favorites today in their adopted countries.
If you tried to be a purist about these things, you could argue that all noodle dishes had their origins in either China or Italy—indeed, that seems right to our modern American sensibilities. Yet if you take one step further back, you’re on that Silk Road without any real way to pinpoint exactly where people started making noodles in the first place.
India, too, has a vast number of Chinese restaurants, and they serve dishes that only faintly resemble Chinese American or actual Chinese. I always thought that hakka noodles (page 196) were the limit of noodle penetration in India—that is, until I started researching the recipe for sevai (page 199). The package the dry noodles came in had a sort of pop Chinese motif with dragons in yellow and red. Indeed, it seemed like this dish was seen as Chinese by Indian diners even though the recipe and ingredients list appears relentlessly Indian in our eyes.
Italian noodles didn’t exactly have the same vector as Chinese. Yes, Italians did move all over the world and open restaurants, but they weren’t the only ones serving Italian food. Almost from the first moment it was introduced, spaghetti was hugely popular in the United States. And we Americans did as much to spread the food as Italians themselves, as evidenced by the Philippine dish spaghetti with sliced hot dogs (page 140).
Spaghetti seems to have another reason for its wide proliferation—it travels well, due to its light weight and resistance to spoilage. It can be brought to an edible state long after rice or beans have gone stale, and—as the recipes in this book demonstrate—can be adapted to almost any cuisine.
It would be easy to leave this whole thing at the feet of hardworking immigrants fanning out across the globe in an effort to build better lives. The problem with that is that we would be ignoring food history’s ugly uncle, imperialism; that is, the economic and military occupation of one country by another. Imperialism is why you see spaghetti and meat sauce in so many cultures. No, it wasn’t the marauding Italians—although they did occupy Ethiopia and brought forth a great dish (page 229). Instead, it was American soldiers that brought spaghetti and macaroni with them wherever they went, and hot dogs, too.
From our perspective, it’s almost impossible to tell which foods will become new immigrant classics, which will be subsumed into that vast pool of “American” dishes, and which will be forgotten about before next Christmas. You just never know.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
¼ cup lard or beef suet
2 teaspoons dried thyme
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
2 pounds boneless beef chuck cut into 1-inch cubes
2 cups thinly sliced onions
2 bay leaves
2 cups Belgian-style ale (make sure you measure liquid and not foam)
1 recipe basic egg noodles, cut into ½-inch wide strips, cooked and drained
Hot mustard for serving (optional)
Those Belgians know their food! What could be a better combination than beef, beer, and noodles? With the meat braising and a big pot of water boiling for the noodles, you can easily imagine a group of Belgian monks whipping up a batch on a damp winter night.
1. Put the lard in a pot over medium heat and add the thyme, salt, and pepper. Cook, stirring, until the seasonings are coated with the fat.
2. Add the beef and cook, stirring frequently, until the meat is well browned on all sides, about 15 minutes. Remove from the pot and set aside, leaving the pot on the heat (don’t clean it!).
3. Add the onions and bay leaves to the pot and cook, stirring frequently, until they’re tender, golden, and have absorbed the brown bits of beef stuck to the pan, about 15 minutes.
4. Mix in the cooked beef and beer, lower the heat to medium-low, and simmer, covered, stirring occasionally, until the meat is very tender, about 90 minutes. Note that the meat will become very tough before it starts tenderizing, after about 60 minutes. To serve, arrange the noodles in a thin layer on a serving platter and cover with the meat and gravy. A touch of hot mustard on the side makes a good accompaniment.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
½ cup olive oil
½ pound angel hair pasta, broken into 2- to 3-inch lengths
2 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
½ teaspoon saffron threads
1 teaspoon Spanish paprika
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
½ pound monkfish fillet cut into ½-inch cubes
1 cup canned, crushed tomatoes
½ pound peeled shrimp
½ pound scallops
1 pound mussels
Does this dish look familiar to you? It should—it’s the noodle version of paella, the dish that screams “Spain!” in restaurants around the world. Why paella gets all the glory is a question for another time. Give this dish a try instead.
1. Put the olive oil in a wok or skillet over high heat and add the pasta. Cook, stirring, until the pasta begins to brown, about 3 minutes.
2. Reduce the heat to medium and mix in the garlic, saffron, paprika, salt, and pepper. Stir until all the spices and noodles are mixed well, about 1 minute.
3. Mix in the monkfish and tomatoes and cook, stirring, until the fish appears opaque and the tomato looses its raw flavor, about 5 minutes.
4. Mix in the shrimp, scallops, and mussels and cook, stirring occasionally, until the shrimp is cooked and the noodles are tender, about 10 minutes. If the pan dries out, add water, 1 cup at a time, until it’s moist enough to tenderize the noodles.
Serve right away.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
¼ cup olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 cups chopped onion
3 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
1 pound fresh mild chorizo sausage, sliced
2 cups chopped green bell peppers
3 cups canned crushed tomatoes
1 pound penne pasta, cooked and drained
Pasta with tomato sauce may have started in Italy, but it’s adaptable enough to have become a favorite food in many cultures. Here’s one way they do it in Spain.
1. Put the oil, salt, and pepper in a skillet over medium heat and mix in the onions and garlic. Cook, stirring frequently, until the onions are tender and the garlic starts to brown at the edges, about 15 minutes.
2. Add the chorizo and bell peppers and cook, stirring frequently, until the sausage starts to brown at the edges and the peppers become tender, about 15 minutes.
3. Mix in the tomatoes, reduce the heat to medium-low, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the flavors combine, about 20 minutes.
4. Toss with the cooked penne pasta and serve right away.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons lard
2 tablespoons butter
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
½ cup pine nuts
3 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
½ pound boneless pork stew meat cut into ½-inch cubes
1 cup chopped ham
1 cup coarsely chopped chicken gizzards
1 cup canned chopped tomatoes
2 cups red wine
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
6 cups water
12 ounces fideos—fine Spanish noodles, dry
1 cup chopped chicken livers
Why is it that we always speak of Spain as being sunny and hot and yet its noodle dishes all seem to be hearty stews better suited to snowy winters than sunny coastlines? This recipe is no exception. For a start, it features pork as well as chicken livers, which are stewed in red wine. Delicious and classic, but something you’d want to eat after a day in the mountains, not a day on the beach.
1. Put the oil, lard, butter, salt, and pepper in a large pot over medium heat and stir until the butter melts, about 1 minute.
2. Mix in the pine nuts, garlic, pork, ham, and chicken gizzards and cook, stirring frequently, until the pork has browned, about 20 minutes.
3. Add the tomatoes, red wine, parsley, and water and cook uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the pork and gizzards are tender, about 60 minutes.
4. Mix in the fideos and simmer until they start to become tender, about 5 minutes. If there isn’t enough liquid to soak them, add water, 1 cup at a time, until you have enough to cover the ingredients.
5. Mix in the chicken livers and cook, stirring occasionally, until they’re barely cooked and the noodles are completely tender, about 5 minutes.
Serve hot and right away. This dish looks like it can be made ahead and reheated, but its ingredients conspire against it; the noodles will turn to mush and the chicken offal to rubber.
MAKES 6 SERVINGS
1 cup dried navy beans
2 pounds ham or smoked pork bones (a smoked ham hock is perfect here)
1½ pounds oxtail
¼ cup rice
1 pound bone-in chicken parts (thighs work well here)
1 pound ham steak, cut in ½-inch pieces
1 pound mild Italian sausage meat, formed into 6 large balls
1 cup peeled, chopped potato
1 cup sliced leeks
2 cups chopped savoy cabbage
2 teaspoons salt
1 pound large pasta shells, cooked and drained
There are countries a thousand times larger than Andorra that nobody knows anything about. We all know one thing about Andorra, though: it’s really small. Well, now you know something else—its national dish is a ham, bean, and noodle stew called escudella. Actually, Andorra is pretty close to the Catalan region of Spain and their cuisines are similar. You might even find a bowl of escudella in Barcelona.
1. Check the navy beans for stones or other debris, then rinse them off, soak them overnight, and rinse them once more. Set aside.
2. Put the pork bones, oxtail, and 4 quarts of water (16 cups) in a large pot over high heat. Bring to a boil for 1 minute, reduce the heat to low, and simmer, covered, stirring occasionally, until the meat easily comes off the bones, about 3 hours. If foam forms on the surface of the liquid, skim it off. Remove the bones and scrape off any remaining meat. Discard the bones and return the meat to the liquid.
3. Mix in the soaked beans, rice, chicken, and ham and sausage meat, and simmer, covered, stirring occasionally, until the chicken is cooked through and the rice grains have burst, about 60 minutes.
4. Mix in the potato, leeks, and cabbage and simmer, covered, stirring occasionally, until the potato is tender, about 30 minutes.
5. Taste the broth. If it needs it—and only if it needs it (the ham and ham/pork bones may lend sufficient flavor)—add the salt. If you’re not sure, add a tiny bit of salt at a time, mix it in well, and taste it again until it’s right.
6. To assemble the dish, put a layer of cooked shells in the bottom of a serving bowl and spoon the ham and bean mixture over it. Make sure everybody gets a meatball and some chicken too.
HAVING MADE, WITH MIXED RESULTS, more than a few batches of broth, I decided it might be time to talk to an expert. Bob del Grosso is a culinary instructor, butcher on an organic farm, and artisan meat curer. He spoke with me as he butchered a whole calf, stopping only to make coffee or stir the big stockpot on the stove in one corner of the butchering room.
Bob wasn’t impressed with my modest broth-making experiences, especially when I expounded on how bones give soup its soul. And then I made myself sound worse, belittling concentrates, boxed broths, and anything flavored with MSG. I was a dilettante if there ever was one.
The professor began his lesson by shaking his head. “Nothing wrong with MSG,” he told me. “It has sodium, so it adds salt and flavor.” So why then was he here in this remote (by northeastern US standards, anyway) farm, cutting up a calf while a pot of chicken stock simmered ten feet away?
“There’s stock and then there’s stock,” he said, showing me the calf’s femur and some shinbone. Big bones with lots of cartilage, just what you need for real substance. I kept thinking about how much of the broth I sampled just tasted like flavored water. “Water is essential for breaking down connective tissue,” he explained, and by adding bones with lots of connective tissue you can get a liquid with real structure. For chicken, the method isn’t so different; instead of adding big bones, you put in extra feet and/or skin; parts of the bird loaded with gelatin, to get the same effect.
I did notice that Bob’s chicken stock was made with wings and necks rather than feet, but it didn’t take much effort to see that his was more than meat-flavored water. When he scooped up some with a ladle, it had viscosity. It gracefully returned to the pot with none of the splashing of mere H2O.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but Bob’s stock-making instructions proved something of a letdown. “Roast the bones if you want a dark stock or just wash them in cold water for a lighter one,” he said. Then just simmer them for as long as you can. He pointed to his simmer—there were just a few bubbles breaking the surface of the liquid. And that was it. No magic ingredient. The way to do it is to do it. The magic comes from the time and care with which you simmer the bones, not from anything special you do while they’re cooking.
MAKES 6 SERVINGS
2 quarts whole milk
¼ cup finely chopped lemon zest
1 cinnamon stick
½ cup white sugar
½ cup dark brown sugar
¼ teaspoon salt
½ cup butter
1 pound fideos or filini pasta, or angel hair pasta broken into 2-inch pieces
4 egg yolks, whisked together
How many noodle desserts do you know? This one is a Portuguese Christmas specialty that tastes an awful lot like English rice pudding.
1. Put the milk, lemon zest, and cinnamon stick in a large pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Stir frequently to make sure it doesn’t boil over.
2. When it boils for 1 minute, reduce the heat to medium-low, mix in the sugar, brown sugar, and salt and cook uncovered, stirring frequently, until a third of the liquid has evaporated, about 40 minutes. Then remove and discard the cinnamon stick.
3. Mix in the butter and pasta and cook, stirring frequently, until the pasta is tender, about 3 minutes.
4. Remove one cup of the cooking liquid and put it in a bowl. Then add the egg yolks to the liquid, one drop at a time with vigorous whisking until the yolks are completely combined. If the yolk hardens, you’re adding it too quickly; take a deep breath and slow down.
5. Slowly mix the yolk mixture back into the simmering milk and noodle liquid. When they’re mixed thoroughly, pour into a serving bowl.
Let the pudding cool and firm up for at least 15 minutes before serving.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
1 cup chopped onion
2 tablespoons chopped fresh garlic
2 cups canned peeled tomatoes
3 canned chipotle peppers + 1 tablespoon sauce from the can
¼ cup fresh cilantro
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
2 cups chicken broth
1 cup peanut oil
12 ounces fideos, the thin Spanish noodles
½ cup crumbled Mexican white cheese (or substitute chopped Colby cheese)
½ cup sour cream
Even if your Spanish is as bad as mine, you may notice that the name of this dish translates into English as “dry soup.” Not only is this dish not a soup, it turns regular pasta into an ingredient that’s somewhere between instant noodles (page 98) and pretzel sticks, ready to absorb this amazing sauce.
1. Put the onion, garlic, tomato, chipotle peppers, cilantro, salt, and pepper in a food processor and pulse until the ingredients are liquefied, about 2 minutes.
2. Pour the liquid into a large pot, add the chicken broth, put it on medium-low heat, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until a quarter of the liquid has evaporated, about 30 minutes.
3. While the seasoning liquid is simmering, put the cup of oil in a small skillet over high heat. When it’s hot—a thermometer should read at least 325 degrees—add 1 bunch of the fideos and fry until they’re golden brown, about 30 seconds. Remove them from the oil with a slotted spoon, and drain on paper towels. Repeat this process until all the noodles are cooked.
4. Combine the fried noodles with the simmering onion/tomato/chipotle liquid. Stir until the noodles are evenly coated in sauce. Then cook, stirring occasionally, until the noodles start to become tender, about 10 minutes.
5. Mix in the cheese and toss a few times to make sure the pieces are evenly distributed.
6. Transfer the noodles and sauce onto serving plates and top with the sour cream.
Serve right away.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
6 cups water
1½ pounds beef chuck, cut into 1-inch cubes
2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon achiote paste (also called annatto)
¼ cup long-grain white rice
1 cup chopped zucchini
1 cup chopped chayote
2 cups chopped spinach, or one 10-ounce package frozen
6 ounces fideos, the thin Spanish noodles
¼ cup chopped cilantro leaves
½ cup chopped red onion
¼ cup ají picante, hot red pickled peppers
1 lime, cut in quarters
Stews are a branch of Mexican cuisine that seems lost on most Americans. This one is as simple as they get—meat, vegetables, rice, and noodles.
1. Bring the 6 cups of water to a boil in a large pot and add the beef, salt, and achiote. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook, stirring occasionally, until the meat starts to become tender and the achiote is fully dissolved, about 1 hour. Check the pot occasionally and skim off any scum that forms on the surface as necessary.
2. Mix in the rice and continue cooking, stirring occasionally, until it becomes tender, about 15 minutes.
3. Mix in the zucchini and chayote and continue cooking with occasional stirring until they become tender, about 20 minutes.
4. Mix in the spinach and fideos and cook until the noodles are tender, about 5 minutes (give the noodles an occasional stir with a fork to prevent the noodles from clumping together).
5. To serve, ladle the stew into bowls and sprinkle with the cilantro, onion, and hot red peppers. Put a lime wedge at the side of each bowl as a finishing touch.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
Oil cooking spray
8 cups fresh plum tomato wedges (about 3 pounds)
2 teaspoons salt + ½ teaspoon for final seasoning
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 cup chopped onion
2 tablespoons crushed and chopped garlic
3 tablespoons peanut oil
2 cups chicken broth
2 cups water
6 ounces fideos*
How can tomato soup with noodles be Mexican? Well, leaving aside the fact that tomatoes were eaten in Mexico long before they were grown in Europe, this dish uses classic Mexican technique: first roasting, then blending the tomatoes, and finally cooking the purée to make a soup. A bit of Mexico in a bowl.
1. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
2. Spray a baking sheet with oil and spread the tomato wedges out on the baking sheet, sprinkling the wedges with the salt and pepper. Spray the tomatoes with oil and bake until the skins start to brown, about 45 minutes. Remove from the oven and allow to cool.
3. Put the cooked tomatoes, onion, and garlic in a blender and liquify. There should be nothing solid left. This requires several minutes of pulsing.
4. Put the oil in a large skillet over medium-low heat and mix in the tomato and onion mixture. Cook, stirring frequently, until the bitter flavor is gone, about 30 minutes.
5. Add the chicken broth and the 2 cups of water, raise the heat to high, and let the liquid come to a boil. Then mix in the fideos, reduce the heat to medium-low, and simmer covered, stirring occasionally, until the noodles are tender, about 8 minutes.
6. Taste the soup; if it needs salt—this depends entirely on the kind of broth you use—add it ½ teaspoon at a time, until it’s right. Be careful here—there’s no way to take salt out once it’s in there.
Serve right away.
*Mexican grocery stores typically sell them in packages of this size.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
1 can (about 5½ ounces) solid white tuna packed in water, drained
½ cup mayonnaise
1 cup chopped pitted olives
1 boiled egg, chopped
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon ground white pepper
8 ounces spaghetti, cooked, rinsed, and drained
Is any person—or, for that matter, any other ingredient—as well traveled as spaghetti? No other dish has seen more variations on more continents. This one, a Brazilian version of tuna salad, takes those long strings of noodle in yet another direction.
1. Combine the tuna, mayonnaise, olives, egg, parsley, lemon juice, salt, and pepper and mix well. Make sure all the ingredients are well distributed.
2. To assemble, toss the spaghetti with the tuna mixture until the pasta is evenly coated.
Serve at room temperature or chilled.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 tablespoons crushed and chopped fresh garlic
1 pound boneless chicken breasts or thighs, cut into ½-inch-wide strips
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
2 cups drained, canned peeled tomatoes, coarsely chopped
¼ cup chopped pitted green olives
1½ cups (about 1 can) hearts of palm, cut into ¼-inch lengths
1 pound spaghetti or linguine, cooked and drained
3 tablespoons chopped chives
Even though there are a hundred recipes in this book, I’m pretty sure this is the only one that has a tree trunk as a key ingredient. That’s the way noodles are. They can be adapted to anything. This recipe takes two global ingredients—noodles and chicken—and combines them with the very Latin American heart of palm.
1. Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat and add the garlic. Cook, stirring, until the garlic starts to brown at the edges, about 3 minutes.
2. Add the chicken, salt, and pepper and stir frequently until the chicken appears cooked on the outside, about 5 minutes.
3. Mix in the tomatoes, olives, and hearts of palm and cook, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes have lost their raw flavor, the chicken is completely cooked, and the garlic is very tender, about 10 minutes.
4. Toss with the cooked pasta and chives and serve right away.
WHAT IS THIS THING CALLED spaghetti that travels to every corner of the world? Why is it so often accompanied by its longtime companion, tomatoes? Spaghetti has a way of getting around. From its birthplace in Italy, it’s wound up in America as spaghetti and meat sauce (page 54), the Philippines, with slices of hot dog (page 140), and in Ethiopia, with tomato sauce and local berbere spices. The flavors of the newly adopted host country are obvious against the backdrop of cooked dried pasta.
Easy to manufacture, easy to store, and easy to cook, spaghetti has found its way into an astounding array of world cuisines. Unlike steak or sushi, it doesn’t symbolize wealth. Spaghetti is just there. Buy it for pennies, open the box, boil it up, and make it your own.
The range of nations that have done just that is pretty much a list of all nations. Dishes that didn’t even make it into this book include Swedish spaghetti with melted cheese, Mexican with chiles and a kaleidoscope of herbs, Taiwanese with pork and brown sauce, or Argentinian with corned beef—all are riffs that utilize pasta as a vehicle for whatever ingredient is prized by the locals.
And that poor old basic Italian tomato sauce? You can find that on spaghetti in almost every corner of the world too.
MAKES 2 SERVINGS
6 cups water
1 pound bone-in chicken parts (legs or thighs are ideal)
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 cup potato, peeled and cut in large chunks
½ cup scallion greens, cut into ½-inch pieces
8 ounces dry linguine or fettuccine pasta, cooked, rinsed, and drained
2 hard-cooked eggs, cut in half lengthwise
Not only can a book be filled with noodle recipes, volumes could be written on the subject of chicken noodle soup. This version is from Peru, a country known both for its soups and its unique take on otherwise typical dishes. For the record, Peru has a long tradition of borrowing ingredients and methods from Asia. It’s no coincidence that a bowl of caldo de gallina resembles a bowl of Asian noodle soup.
1. Put the water in a large pot over high heat and add the chicken, salt, and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the liquid comes to a boil. Let it boil for 1 minute, then reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, covered, continuing to stir occasionally until the chicken is cooked through, about 30 minutes.
2. Mix in the potatoes and continue to simmer until they’re tender, about 30 minutes.
3. Add the scallion greens and cook until tender, about 2 minutes.
4. Assemble the soup as if it were an Asian noodle soup. First put the cooked noodles at the bottom of the bowl, then ladle the liquid/potato mixture over it. And finally, top with the cooked chicken pieces and egg.
Serve piping hot and right away.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
2 tablespoons peanut oil + ½ cup peanut oil
1 cup chopped onions
2 tablespoons crushed and chopped fresh garlic
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
2 cups fresh basil leaves
3 cups fresh spinach leaves
¼ cup chopped walnuts
1 cup crumbled queso blanco*
1 pound spaghetti or linguine, cooked and drained
When food tells us a story, it can be of love, terrain, or history, and if we’re lucky, all three. That’s the case with this dish from Peru. More than anything, it’s an homage to pesto, the traditional bright green sauce from Liguria, Italy (page 117). It shows how a dish that’s grounded in the soil and climate of one place can transition into something a bit different on the other side of the world.
1. Put the 2 tablespoons of peanut oil, onions, garlic, salt, and pepper in a skillet over medium heat. Cook and stir until the onions are translucent, about 10 minutes.
2. Add the basil and spinach leaves and cook, stirring, until they just wilt, about 3 minutes. Remove from the heat.
3. Put the ½ cup of peanut oil, cooked vegetables, walnuts, and queso blanco in a blender and purée. I find that pulsing the blender 10 or 20 times gives the best result. It’s okay for it to be grainy, but there shouldn’t be any big chunks.
4. Toss with the just-cooked-and-still-hot pasta.
No less a group than the International Pasta Organization tells us that, per capita, Venezuela is second only to Italy in pasta consumption. This would make you think that the country is filled with all sorts of fascinating noodle recipes. Yet anybody who spends quality time with Venezuela’s menus and cookbooks will quickly see that noodle cookery there seems to devote itself to authentic reproductions of Italian dishes. Checking out the Venezuelan version of lasagna, you find béchemel sauce, a key ingredient in the boot-shaped-country’s offering that seems to disappear when the dish is cooked elsewhere. Yet Peru, a nation with much lower pasta consumption, has a whole host of noodle dishes that reflect that country and its culture.
Go figure.
*A firm white Latin American cheese. Substitute Colby cheese, chopped into dice-sized pieces, if you’re unable to find it.
MAKES 8 SERVINGS
Olive oil cooking spray
5 pounds beef soup bones
1 teaspoon salt + 2 teaspoons for the finished soup
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper + 1 teaspoon for the finished soup
2 whole onions, peeled and quartered + 2 cups sliced onions
6 whole cloves
6 quarts water + ½ cup for the dough
2 cups all-purpose flour
¼ cup olive oil + 2 tablespoons olive oil for sautéing the onions
3 tablespoons crushed and chopped fresh garlic
1 pound ground beef
2 cups peeled and chopped yellow potatoes
1 cup sliced carrot
4 eggs, broken into a bowl and scrambled a bit
1 cup green peas (frozen are okay)
¼ cup chopped parsley
South America is big on meal-sized soups like this one from Chile. What they all have in common is the amount of work that goes into making them. A South American soup is what some people I know call “a project,” and pancutras is a project and a cooking school rolled into one. Make the broth from scratch and learn about bones and stock, make the noodles and learn some dough-making technique. Assemble it all and it’s yours—a great meal in a bowl.
1. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
2. Coat a baking sheet with olive oil spray, put the beef bones on it, season the bones with the salt and pepper, give them another spray of oil, and bake until they’re well browned, about 45 minutes. Remove from the oven and set aside.
3. Put the roasted bones, onion quarters, and cloves in a large pot along with the 6 quarts of water. Bring it to a boil over high heat and let it boil for 1 minute. Then reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, covered, stirring occasionally until the bits of meat have fallen off the bones and the onions have become very tender, about 1 hour. (Skim off any white foam that forms on the surface.) Then reduce the heat to low and continue to simmer uncovered until the onions dissolve, about 2 more hours. Remove the bones, scrape any extra meat off them, return the meat to the pot, and discard the bones. Reserve this liquid. This is the broth, your liquid gold.
4. While the beef broth is simmering, make the noodles by combining the flour, olive oil, and ½ cup of water in a large bowl and mix with a wooden spoon until a dough forms. It should be about the same texture as Play-Doh and easy to knead. If it’s too wet, add flour, 1 tablespoon at a time, until it’s right. If it’s too dry, add water, again, 1 tablespoon at a time, until it’s right.
5. Scatter some flour on a flat surface and knead the dough until it becomes elastic, about 5 minutes. Then wrap it in plastic or cloth and let it rest for 30 minutes or so.
6. Scatter a bit more flour on a flat surface and roll the dough out into a sheet. If you have a pasta machine, use thickness setting 4. Then cut the dough into 1½ x 1½-inch squares and let them dry a bit on a sheet of parchment paper while you continue cooking.
7. Put the olive oil in a large pot over medium heat and mix in the sliced onions and garlic and cook, stirring frequently, until the onions have become translucent, about 15 minutes.
8. Mix in the ground beef and keep cooking, stirring frequently until the beef is well browned, about 15 minutes. Use a wooden spoon to break the meat up into the smallest pieces possible.
9. Add the beef broth (you should have at least 3 quarts), potato, carrot, and salt and pepper. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer uncovered until the potato is tender and the liquid has reduced by a quarter, about 40 minutes.
10. Increase the heat to high and bring the soup to a boil. When the liquid is boiling, give it a stir and add the eggs. Wait 1 full minute and then reduce the heat back to medium-low. Stir it a bit to separate the eggs into large pieces.
11. Mix in the noodles, peas, and parsley and stir until the noodles are cooked, about 3 minutes.
Serve hot.
