Bean and Legume

A dish from the southeastern state of Tamil Nadu, this quick stir-fry has all the wonderful spices used in the cooking of the Chettiyars, a trading community—lots of black pepper, fennel seeds, mustard seeds, cinnamon, and the split pea, urad dal. (Yellow split peas may be substituted for the urad dal. They will be used here in a very southern way, as a seasoning.) This dish has a 30-minute marinating period, but it cooks in about 7 minutes. It is a good idea to have all the spices measured out and ready, as the stir-frying is done quickly. I like this chicken with Basmati Rice with Lentils and a green vegetable.

I used to make this dish with fillets of halibut until the cost, at least in New York, made me look at other fish. Now I use cod or hake. They both flake a bit more but still manage to hold their shape. Salting them ahead of time helps hold them together. I like to use fresh tomatoes even if they are out of season, as they are gentler in flavor. I grate the tomatoes on the coarsest part of a four-sided grater (see method on page 289), which removes the skin but keeps the seeds. Four medium tomatoes will yield roughly 1 3/4 cups of fresh puree, about what you need here. Light and lovely, this dish is best served with rice. I like to add a dal and perhaps a green, leafy vegetable.

Somewhere between the famous Mulligatawny Soup of the mixed-race Anglo-Indians and the soupy lentil-tomato-pasta dish, dal dholki, of the vegetarians of the western state of Gujarat, lies this soup. It is made with red lentils and tomatoes and may be served with a dollop of plain white rice or with some cooked pasta (pappardelle, noodles, macaroni) added to the soup just before it is heated for serving. This soup, plus a salad, makes for a perfect lunch or supper. There are three simple steps to follow here. First you boil up the lentils. As they cook, you sauté the seasonings. Then you combine the two and blend them.

I make this a lot when tomatoes are in season. It makes for a simple, nutritious lunch or first course.

This soup, mellowed with coconut milk, is as delicious as it is surprising in its final blend of silken textures.

I love to make this soup in the summer, when my garden (or the local farmers market) is bursting with cucumbers and tomatoes and the weather is balmy. The first time I had this soup, or a version of it, was in the Maldives, at the Cocoa Island resort on the South Male Atoll, just southwest of India. For the soup, the chef, Stana Johnson, had combined South Indian seasonings and the notion of North India’s favorite cucumber raita, a yogurt relish, to fashion a light summery, cooling soup. I remember sitting in an airy pavilion, the calm blue sea on two sides of me, balmy breezes blowing past, sipping the soup a tablespoon at a time, and thinking, “This is what heaven must be like.” While the flavors were easy on the tongue, the soup was complicated to make. I have spent two years simplifying it, trying to retain its essence while cutting down on all the steps a large-staffed restaurant can do with ease. I like to serve the soup with a dollop of Yogurt Rice, page 26 or 217, right in its center. This is not essential. Just a light sprinkling of diced cucumbers and diced cherry tomatoes will do. But do try it once with the Yogurt Rice as well as the sprinkling of cucumbers and tomatoes. (You do not actually have to make the full Yogurt Rice recipe. A very quick version, made with leftover rice, follows.)

Here is a dish that, as far as I know, was only served in India by my own family. My mother made it; my grandmother made it. It was made only when peas were young and fresh. Even Indians (from other families and from other parts of India) who have dined with us in the pea season are surprised by it. It requires whole, fresh peas in their pods. I grow my own peas, and this is the first dish I make with them when they are ready for picking. You have to eat the peas rather like artichoke leaves: you put the whole pea pod in your mouth, holding on to it by its stem end, clench your teeth, and pull. What you get to eat are not just the peas themselves but also the softened outsides of the shells. You discard the fibrous bits after getting all the goodness out of them. We ate this as a snack or at teatime, but I have taken to serving it as a first course.

There is nothing like sitting down for an evening drink with these chickpeas by one’s side. Since they come out of a can, no hard work is involved. I like to use organic canned chickpeas, but any kind will do. If you have access to an Indian grocer, do sprinkle the chickpeas with some chaat masala at the end. It gives them an extra spiciness. But this is not essential. These are best eaten the day they are made.

A great variety of vegetable fillings exist. Vegetables with a meat filling are meant to be eaten hot, those with a meatless filling are usually cooked in oil and eaten cold. In Turkey these are called yalangi dolma or “false dolma,” because of the lack of meat. The following are the fillings most widely used. Quantities are enough to stuff about 2 pounds of vegetables, but this varies according to the size of the vegetables and the amount of pulp scooped out.

You can use any firm white fish, such as cod, bream, hake, or haddock, for this Algerian couscous.

An Arab dish and a Lenten specialty.

This is one of very few traditional couscous dishes using one vegetable alone. Another is with fava beans. You can also mix peas and very young, tender fava beans together. As there is no broth, the grain needs plenty of butter (you could use vegetable or olive oil instead). Tiny young fresh peas are sold podded in packages in some supermarkets. Otherwise, frozen petits pois will do.

This is the most famous Moroccan couscous, which you can improvise around. It can be made with lamb or chicken or with a mix of the two. In local lore, the number seven has mystical qualities. It brings good luck. Choose seven vegetables out of those listed—onions and tomatoes do not count as vegetables but as flavorings, so choose seven more. It is a long list of ingredients, but the making of the dish is simple—a matter of throwing things into a pot—and it feeds a big party. The soup or stew can be prepared well in advance, and so can the grain.

A very old Arab dish. It is good to serve yogurt with it.

Chicken may be used instead of meat. Serve with plain rice steamed in the Persian manner (page 338) or the quick and easy boiled and steamed rice (page 339). The eggplants are usually deep-fried, but in this instance it is as good to broil or grill them, as they get stewed as well. If you don’t fry them, it is not really important to salt them (see page 289).

This Persian sauce is exquisite, with delicate spicing and dried lime as the dominant flavor. Serve it with plain rice prepared in the Persian manner (page 338) or the quick and easy boiled and steamed rice (page 339).

This is one of the most popular sauces in Iran and a favorite of mine. Dried limes and the herb fenugreek give it a unique and delicious bitter-sour taste. Flat-leaf parsley, chives, and in some versions dill and cilantro complete the symphony of flavors. Fresh fenugreek can be found in Iranian and Oriental stores in the summer, and packets of dried fenugreek leaves are available the year round. Only a little is used, because it is very powerful. The dried limes can be found in Oriental and Indian stores in various forms, whole, broken into pieces, and powdered. To make them yourself, see page 44. If you can’t find the powdered one, add an extra whole one. Serve with plain rice steamed in the Persian manner (page 338) or the quick and easy boiled and steamed rice (page 339).

This exquisite and elegant Persian rice can also be made with chicken.