Root Vegetable

Beets of different colors make a very beautiful salad. Dress the red ones separately so their color doesn’t bleed all over the others.

Leeks are at their best in the cold months, when lettuce is scarce. Dressed with this mustardy vinaigrette, they make a bright winter salad.

There is a long list of variations of savory galettes and most of them begin with sautéed onions. Sautéed onions are the perfect foil for the crisp, buttery crust of a tart. When combined with other vegetables, onions add protective moisture and deep flavor as the tart bakes in the oven. The pastry can also be rolled into long thin rectangular tarts, which can be cut into small pieces that make very popular finger food for a party. Surprisingly, onions vary quite a bit, and not just in appearance. Sometimes they cook quickly and are so juicy they need to be drained before they can be used; other times they take a long time to soften and don’t give off any liquid to speak of. Onions with very thin skins are usually much more sweet and juicy, while those with very hard, dark, golden skins tend to take longer to cook. All onions will eventually soften and be delicious, but when given the choice, I recommend selecting large onions that have a delicate, thin, lighter skin. In the summer, when they are in season, sweet Walla Walla, Vidalia, or Bermuda onions make excellent tarts, baking up almost as sweet as honey. In the spring there are fresh onions, or spring onions, that have not been dried and cured, and still have their green stalks attached. Peel them and trim off their stalks, slice them thick, and cook until just soft. The flavor of spring onions is delicate and less sweet than that of mature cured onions. The right amount of onions cooked to the right consistency is what makes a good tart. Pile the onions into a low-sided, heavy-bottomed pan with a generous amount of fat, and cook them slowly with herbs until soft and tasty; this will take at least 30 minutes. The onions must be cooled before they are spread onto the pastry or they will melt the butter before the tart bakes. The onions should be moist but not dripping wet or the tart will be soggy. If the onions are too juicy, drain them. Save the juice; it can be reduced and served with the tart as a little sauce or added to a vinaigrette. If the onions are still juicy, even after draining, sprinkle a little flour over the pastry (avoiding the border), before adding the onions, to soak up some of the juice while the tart cooks. Bake on the lowest rack of the oven for a crust that is crisp and golden brown on the bottom. Check the underside by gently lifting up the tart with a spatula. When the tart is fully baked, slide it off the pan onto a cooling rack to rest. If left on the baking pan to cool, it will steam and the pastry will not stay crisp. Once you have mastered a basic onion tart, there are many variations you can try: add sliced sweet or hot peppers to the sautéing onions about halfway through cooking; grate some summer squash and stir it into the onions during their last few minutes of sautéing; or, before you fill the tart, while the onions are cooling, stir in either seasoned cherry tomato halves or roasted, peeled, and sliced peppers. You can also top the layer of onions with sliced tomatoes or lightly grilled slices of eggplant. For a sweet and savory tart, mix chopped roasted figs into the onions. Other variations include sprinkling the pastry with grated cheese or brushing it with a slurry of chopped herbs and olive oil before spreading on the onions. Artichoke hearts also can either be sautéed and stirred into the onions, or sliced and baked and arranged on top of them; when the tart comes out of the oven, try painting it with garlic and herb butter. And most of the year you can mix the onions with sautéed greens—collards, chard, spinach, broccoli rabe, or mustard. Or when the tart has only 10 minutes left to bake, top it with anchovies and black olives.

Fish and shellfish are superb grilled. The searing heat quickly seals in juices and delicately perfumes the flesh with smoke. Fish can be grilled as fillets, as steaks, or whole. Shellfish such as scallops and oysters can be grilled in the shell or shucked. Shrimp can be grilled peeled or unpeeled. All these are delicious seasoned with nothing more than salt and pepper and a squeeze of lemon, but advance marinades of olive oil and herbs, tangy salsas such as the peach (page 231) or tomato (page 231), and Herb Butter (page 48), Béarnaise (page 229), or warm butter sauce (page 228) are also possibilities. A hot fire is best for everything except large whole fish. Use the hand test: you should be able to hold your hand an inch or two over the grill for no more than 2 seconds. The grill should be preheated, cleaned, and, most importantly, oiled, just before putting on the fish, to help keep it from sticking. Season fish fillets and steaks with salt and pepper and brush them with oil before putting to grill. Or marinate them with a combination of herbs, spices, citrus zest, and olive oil. Let fish sit in a marinade for at least an hour to allow the flavors to penetrate. An average fillet about an inch thick will take 6 to 8 minutes to cook. If the skin has been left on (it gets crispy and delicious cooked on a grill), place the fillet skin side down and cook it mostly on the skin side. Check for doneness after about 6 minutes, and turn at the last minute to sear the other side. A fillet without the skin should be cooked 3 to 4 minutes on each side. Rotate after about 2 minutes to make crosshatched grill marks. Check for doneness after about 6 minutes, and turn at the last minute to sear the other side. To test, press on the flesh with your finger or a spatula, or probe the flesh with a knife. The fish is done when the meat is just set and slightly firm to the touch but still moist. Fish such as salmon and tuna are delicious seared on the outside and very rare inside, still shiny and translucent. Remember that the fish will continue to cook after it is taken off the grill. If cooked for too long, fish can become quite dry. A fish steak is a cross-section at least 1 inch thick that contains some backbone and is surrounded by the skin. Grill the same way as a skinless fillet, but turn it after 5 minutes and check for doneness after 8. Check by feel or by cutting into the flesh near the backbone to see inside. The flesh should separate easily from the bones but still be quite moist. A whole fish should be scaled and gutted; any fishmonger will do this. Cook the fish whole and unboned, with its head on, if possible; the fish will be more succulent. Season well with salt and pepper or marinate as described above, turning the fish now and then in the marinade. Cook smaller fish like anchovies and sardines over a hot fire, threaded on skewers for easy turning. (I love fresh anchovies marinated with a little chopped mint and grilled over a searing hot fire.) Trim off the fins and the tail-ends of larger fish (kitchen shears make short work of this chore). The belly cavity can be stuffed with lemon slices and herbs. Because they take much longer to cook, big fish need a medium-hot fire. To turn over a big fish on the grill, gently roll it as often as necessary to keep the skin from burning. Measure the fish at its thickest point and allow about 10 minutes per inch. A good friend of mine catches big fish, cleans and scales them, and grills them wrapped entirely in fennel fronds or herb branches, or sometimes in tender leafing branches from his lemon tree, tied in place with wet string. This overcoat of greenery steams and perfumes the fish and they taste divine. Whole fish are done when the flesh easily separates from the bone. If tied up in greenery, unwrap it, and gently separate the fillets from the central backbone, picking out any rib bones that come off with the fillets. Shucked scallops, oysters, squid, and shrimp (peeled or ...

Once the dish is assembled, braised chicken legs take less than an hour to cook, and they can be combined with almost any herbs, spices, and vegetables. Their meat is tender and succulent, their sauce concentrated and tasty. Legs are the best choice for a braise, but breasts may be included for those who prefer white meat. Just keep in mind that in order to remain tender and juicy, breasts need to cook for a much shorter time. Start by seasoning the legs with salt and pepper. If time allows, do this a day ahead. Leave the legs whole, or cut them through the joint to separate them into thighs and drumsticks. Brown them in a cast-iron or other heavy pan over medium heat, in a generous amount of oil, skin side down. Or for more flavor, use a mixture of oil and butter. It takes about 12 minutes to get the skin really crisp and golden brown. Take the time to do this or you will be disappointed in the end, because if there is only superficial color on the skin it will wash off in the braise, leaving the skin pale and unappetizing. Once the skin is browned, turn the pieces and cook briefly on the other side, about 4 minutes (there is no skin to crisp on this side and the meat will brown quickly). Remove the chicken legs from the pan and pour off the fat. Add wine, tomatoes, broth, or water to deglaze the pan, scraping up any brown bits stuck to the bottom of the pan. Cook the aromatic vegetables in a bit of oil as directed or add them raw to the pan. Arrange the chicken legs, skin side up, on the vegetables, and pour in the deglazing juices and broth or water to come halfway up the sides of the legs. Bring to a boil, turn down to a simmer, cover the pan, and cook for 45 minutes. Or bake in a 325° F oven. When the chicken legs are cooked, remove them from the pan and discard any loose herb stems or bay leaves or bouquet garni (squeezing it first to extract any juices). Strain the juices into a small pan or bowl and skim off all the fat. Taste the sauce and add salt if needed. Reunite all the parts, plus any vegetables that have been cooked separately, and serve at once or reheat later. If there is too much sauce, reduce it to concentrate the flavors. The salt will concentrate, too, so don’t add any more until the sauce has finished reducing. When braising chicken breasts, do not remove the skin or the bones; they both contribute flavor and help keep the meat moist and tender. Remove the first two joints of the wing by cutting through the joint. Leave the breasts whole or cut them in two so that the thicker wing portion is slightly smaller. Season and brown the breast pieces with the legs. Add the browned breasts with their resting juices to the pan after the legs have been cooking for 30 minutes. There is another method for braising chicken legs. The legs are cooked in the oven, covered, until tender and uncovered and browned at the end. This works especially well when cooking for a crowd, but is not suitable for breasts. Nestle the seasoned legs, skin side down, into the aromatic vegetables (cooked or not, as required by the recipe) with the herbs and spices. Pour in enough wine and stock or water to reach halfway up the legs. To save time, bring the stock to a boil before adding. Cover the dish tightly and bake in a 350°F oven for 40 minutes, or until the legs are tender. Uncover the dish and turn the legs over. If the liquid is so deep it covers the legs, pour enough off to fully expose the skin and reserve it for later. Return the legs to the oven, uncovered, and cook until they are golden brown on top, about 20 minutes. Skim the sauce and serve as above.

Good choices for stew meat are oxtails, shanks, beef chuck, short ribs, pork shoulder, beef cheeks, lamb shoulder, and lamb neck. These cuts all have lots of connective tissue and fat to make them tender and full of flavor. For stew, the meat is cut into smaller pieces. Have your butcher cut bony cuts such as short ribs and lamb shanks into 2-inch lengths. Cut boneless meat such as chuck or shoulder into 1 1/2-inch cubes. The pieces may be cut larger for a more rustic stew, but cut any smaller they tend to fall apart when cooked. If you are buying beef that has already been cut up for stew, ask what cut it is from. Most meat counters use top and bottom round, which I find too lean to make a good stew; they cook up dry. Ask the butcher to cut some chuck into stew meat for you instead, or buy a large piece and cut it at home. Season the meat with salt and pepper. If you have the time, season it a day ahead. If you make a marinade, stir the meat now and then while it is marinating; this will help the marinade flavor the meat evenly. Any vegetables in the marinade I first cook slightly in a bit of oil, for more flavor. Let them cool before adding to the meat. Brown the meat well in a fair amount of oil, lard, or fat. Don’t crowd the pieces; brown them in as many batches as necessary. You can use the same oil for each batch as long as the pan does not burn. If it does, wipe out the pan and continue with fresh oil. When the meat is browned, drain the fat from the pan and deglaze the pan with wine, tomatoes, broth, or water. Short ribs and oxtails are some of my favorite stewing cuts, because they make such a flavorful sauce. These cuts can be browned in the oven: Preheat the oven to 450°F; lay the meat out on a rack in a shallow pan; and cook until the meat is brown and the fat is rendered. With this method there is no pan to deglaze, but it is quicker and easier than browning on the stovetop. If the aromatic vegetables are to be left in the stew, cut them into even, medium-size pieces. If they are to be discarded at the end, leave them in large chunks, for easy removal. Put the vegetables, meat, and deglazing liquid into a pot. Choose a pot large enough to accommodate the meat in two, or possibly three, layers. If the meat is piled higher than this, the bottom layer will cook and fall apart before the upper layers are done. Stirring doesn’t really help this much, and the chance of sticking and burning is much greater. Add broth or water, as the recipe asks, almost to the top of the meat, but do not submerge it. When I am using a marinade that is mostly wine, I like to reduce it (boil it down) by half or more before adding it to the pot. This removes the raw taste of the wine and allows room for more broth, which makes a richer sauce. Bring the liquid to a boil, then turn the heat down to a bare simmer, and cover the pot. Use a flame tamer if necessary to keep the stew from boiling. Or cook the stew in a preheated 325°F oven. If the stew boils hard there’s a good chance the meat will fall apart and the sauce emulsify (the fat and the liquid bind together, which makes the sauce murky). Check the pot now and then to monitor the cooking and the level of the liquid; add more broth or water if needed. Cook until the meat is very tender. This will take anywhere from 2 to 4 hours depending on what cut is being used. There should be very little or no resistance when the meat is poked with a small knife or skewer. When the meat is done, skim the sauce well, removing as much of the fat as you can. This is much easier to do after the simmering has stopped and the liquid has had a chance to settle. The sauce may be strained, but do so carefully: the meat is very delicate now and can fall apart. If the stew is being served another day, the fat can be simply lifted off after chilling in the refrigerator. Thicken a thin or watery sauce with a mixture of one part flour stirred together with one part soft butter. Wh...

When I serve roasted vegetables, my guests often ask me, “How did you cook these vegetables? They are so delicious!” I tossed them with a bit of oil and salt and threw them in the oven, is my answer. Eyebrows rise in disbelief, but it’s true: roasting vegetables is that easy and that delicious. As vegetables roast, their flavors intensify and the brown caramelized edges they get add sweetness and texture. Very little oil is used during the cooking so they are quite light as well. Most any vegetable can be roasted, either simply with salt and olive oil or with garlic, herbs, and spices for added flavor. The critical points for roasting vegetables are: the shape in which they are cut; the seasoning and oiling; and the temperature at which they are cooked. Winter root vegetables should be peeled and cut up into smaller pieces, though the very tiny ones can be left whole. Carrots, turnips, celery root, rutabagas, parsnips, and kohlrabi are all excellent roasted. Cut the vegetables into pieces more or less the same size so they will cook evenly and be done at the same time. Avoid shapes that have thin edges, as they tend to burn before the centers are done; and don’t cut the vegetables too small or they will be mostly browned bits with very little soft flavorful vegetable left to eat. Toss the cut vegetables in a large bowl, using your hands or a spoon to coat them evenly with salt and olive oil. They only need a light coating of oil; if oil is accumulating on the bottom of the bowl you’ve used too much. Taste a piece to see if they are seasoned correctly and keep adding salt until it tastes right. Lay the vegetables out in a single layer on a baking sheet that has low sides. The sides make it much easier to stir the vegetables while they are cooking and keep them from drying out. Cook the vegetables in a hot oven preheated to 400°F. A lower temperature will dry out the vegetables while they cook, making them leathery before they are done; a higher temperature will burn them before they are cooked all the way through. Stir the vegetables a few times while they are cooking, turning those along the edges into the center. Cook them until they are tender and nicely browned here and there. Probe a piece with the tip of a knife to test for doneness, or better still, taste one (be sure to let it cool first). Don’t let them go too far: a little browning makes them sweeter, but if you let them get too dark they will taste bitter. Potatoes can be roasted whole. Use small new potatoes (fingerlings or creamer-size potatoes work really well). Wash the potatoes and peel them or not, as you prefer. Put them into a baking dish with sides as high as or slightly higher than the potatoes themselves. Sprinkle with salt and drizzle with olive oil. Add a head or more of garlic cloves, separated but not peeled, and a few sprigs of fresh herbs. Shake the pan now and then while the potatoes are cooking; turn them if they are browning too much on the top or bottom. Smaller winter squash, such as Delicata and acorn varieties, can be roasted in halves to serve right in the shell. Halve the squash and scoop out the seeds, place the halves cut side up on an oiled baking sheet, drizzle lightly with oil and sprinkle with salt, turn cut side down, and roast until soft. Unpeeled butternut or Delicata squash, once halved and seeded, can be cut into slices and laid on an oiled baking sheet to roast. The skin is so tender after roasting that it is fine to eat. Squash can be cut into cubes and roasted as well; it is wonderful with lots of fresh sage leaves tossed in before cooking. Fat asparagus—the butt ends snapped off, the spears peeled and tossed with oil and salt—roasts very well. Lemon thyme is an intriguing herb to use with asparagus. Stick to larger spears when roasting; the smaller spears tend to shrivel and dry. To roast broccoli, peel and cut the stems into thick slices and break the head into florets. O...

A pilaf is a savory dish of rice that has first been sautéed in fat and then cooked in a seasoned liquid. (It differs from a risotto in that the liquid is entirely absorbed.) Depending on the recipe, a pilaf may also include nuts, spices, a few vegetables, or even a complex meat stew. I make mostly simple pilafs, such as the red rice pilaf that follows, to go with quesadillas and black beans, or a basmati rice pilaf with saffron and onions to eat with a vegetable ragout. Long-grain rice is usually used in pilafs, although some cuisines use short-grain rice. Sautéing the rice before adding the liquid enriches the flavor of the dish and coats each grain in fat. This, along with thorough washing, keeps the rice from sticking together or clumping. Olive oil and butter are the most commonly used fats. To avoid burning the butter while sautéing the rice, add a little oil to it, or use clarified butter (see page 125). Onion is usually sautéed for a few minutes in the fat before the rice is added. After the rice is sautéed, a flavorful liquid is poured over it and brought to a boil. The pilaf is simmered, covered, until all the liquid has been absorbed, about 15 minutes. Depending on their cooking times, vegetables and meats are added sometimes with the liquid, sometimes after the rice has been cooking for a while. The tomato in the red rice pilaf here is added at the beginning to color the rice evenly. When done, pilafs should be allowed to rest for about 10 minutes before serving.

Fava beans are a harbinger of spring. Like other kinds of beans, they form in pods, but they are also covered in a tough, rather bitter skin. The earliest harvests offer beans that are tiny, brilliant green, and so tender they don’t need to be peeled. When not eaten raw, straight from the pod, these are best cooked briefly with a little water and oil or butter. As the season progresses, the beans continue to mature, and they become larger and starchier. At this point they can be popped out of their pods, skinned, and cooked into a luscious, bright green purée that I adore slathering on crisp croutons or serving alongside roasted meats. Still later in the season the beans turn yellow and dry out and are too mature to use this way. Fava beans do require a bit of preparation, but their delicate taste and splash of color are well worth the effort. Popping the beans from their thick soft pods is an enjoyable group project that even little children can join. An easy way to pop the beans out of the pod is to grasp one with both hands; bend the pod back against your thumbs and press out, snapping the beans out of the pod. After the beans are shelled the opaque outer skin of the bean needs to be removed. (Although in Mediterranean cooking the skins are sometimes left on, this increases the cooking time and results in a different taste.) To do so, plunge the beans into boiling water and leave them until the skin is easy to remove. This will take less than a minute, so check one right away. (If you cook the beans too long they will get mashed when you try to slip them out of their skins.) Drain the beans and put them in a bowl of icy cold water. When they are cool, drain them, and pop out the beans, using a fingernail to slit the skin and squeezing the bean out with the fingers of the other hand. Don’t cook the skinned beans too quickly; medium-low heat is best. Stir them occasionally as they are cooking, and, if you notice that they are drying out, add a bit of water. They are done when they can be crushed into a smooth paste when pressed with a spoon. All kinds of beans, fresh or dried, can be flavored and made into tasty purées. I love cannellini bean purée, fresh cranberry bean purée, and refried pinto beans, too. Another favorite hors d’oeuvre is chickpeas with olive oil and hot pepper puréed and served with flatbread or crackers.

The simple soup I make most often starts with a base of softened onions to which one or two vegetables are added. The soup is moistened with broth or water and simmered until the vegetables are tender. First, onions are gently cooked in butter or oil until soft and flavorful. A heavy-bottomed pot makes all the difference for this: it disperses the heat evenly, making it easier to cook vegetables slowly without browning. The amount of fat is important, too. You want enough butter or oil to really coat the onions. After 15 minutes or so of slow cooking, the onions will be transformed into a very soft, translucent, sweet base for the soup. Next, add a vegetable, such as carrots, sliced uniformly for even cooking. (Otherwise you will have underdone and overdone vegetables in your soup.) Salt generously (enough for the vegetables to taste good on their own) and continue cooking for a few minutes. This preliminary seasoning and cooking infuses the fat with the perfume and flavor of the vegetables. (The fat disperses the flavor throughout the soup.) This is an important technique, not just for soup but for cooking in general: building and developing flavor at each step before moving on. Now add broth or water, bring to a boil, and reduce to a simmer. Cook until the vegetables are tender but not falling apart. The soup will not taste finished until the vegetables have cooked through and given their flavor to the broth. Keep tasting. It is wonderful to discover how the flavors change and develop as the soup cooks. Does it need more salt? If you’re unsure, season a small spoonful and see if it tastes better with more. This is the only way you can find out. Many, many vegetables will make great soup when you follow this formula. The only variable is the length of time they take to cook. The best way to keep track is to keep tasting as you go. Some favorite vegetable soups that jump to mind are: turnip and turnip greens, corn, potato and leek, butternut squash, and onion. A vegetable soup made this way, with a flavorful stock rather than water, and served as a rustic “brothy” soup, will be delicious. (In fact, if the broth is rich enough, I sometimes skip any precooking in butter and add both onions and vegetables directly to the simmering broth.) If the soup is made with water instead of broth, and puréed to a uniform texture, the result will be a more delicate soup dominated by the pure flavor of the vegetables themselves. This is especially desirable for soups made from such sweet, tender vegetables as fava beans, peas, or corn. I purée such soups through a food mill, but you can also use a blender, which generates finer purées. Do be careful when using a blender to purée hot soup: always make sure the lid has an open vent hole to let the steam escape so that the whole lot doesn’t explode. Various garnishes and enrichments can be added when you serve the soup. Many cooks finish a puréed soup by spooning in a dollop of cream or stirring in a lump of butter, and a last-minute addition of herbs and spices or a squeeze of lemon can be enlivening. But use discretion; a garnish can overcomplicate or overpower the flavor of the soup itself.

A salad of many ingredients, either all tossed together or dressed separately and arranged on a plate, is called a “composed” salad. A composed salad such as the Greek salad that follows is a hearty dish; with some crusty bread, it could be the main event of a dinner on a warm night. Or, a composed salad might be a delicate arrangement of, say, a few pieces of crabmeat, some grapefruit sections, and a little curly endive in a creamy dressing, served as an elegant first course. Almost anything can be an element in a composed salad: all the various lettuces and salad greens, of course, but also raw or cooked vegetables, chopped, diced, or cut into thin shavings; roasted meats cut into cubes or thin slices; tuna and other fish or shellfish; and hard-cooked eggs, quartered or chopped. Tasty leftovers can be delicious in a composed salad. Don’t combine too many ingredients into a single salad or it will have too many conflicting flavors. The components should be chosen thoughtfully with regard to the tastes and textures they contribute, and the dressing must complement them all. Sometimes a vinaigrette works best, when a tangy sauce is needed; sometimes mayonnaise, for mellow richness; at other times, a creamy sauce. A potato salad, for example, can be made with any of these dressings, and each will yield a distinctly different salad. When dressing a composed salad that includes both tender lettuces and heavier ingredients such as artichoke hearts or pieces of fruit, dress all the heavier elements separately and arrange them around the tossed lettuces on a platter. Otherwise the salad is hard to serve because everything ends up at the bottom and the leaves get crushed. Even salads that have no lettuce should be assembled carefully. What’s most important is that each ingredient be tasty on its own. Taste everything and season each element with a little salt or dressing as needed before adding it to the whole. When things are tossed together, don’t overmix, or the parts will start to lose their distinctiveness, muddying the flavors and spoiling the look of the salad. (You can always arrange a salad and drizzle vinaigrette over it, or even pass the vinaigrette in a pitcher.) As for what to include in such a salad and how to dress it, taste each ingredient before you decide. That is really the only rule you must follow, and while it may sound frustratingly vague, as you acquire a little salad-making experience, you’ll begin to recognize and remember the flavors you like and the ones that you like together.

Salsa verde, the classic green sauce of Italy, is a sauce of olive oil and chopped parsley flavored with lemon zest, garlic, and capers. It adds lively freshness to almost any simple dish. Flat-leaved Italian parsley is preferable, but curly parsley is good, too. Fresh parsley—the fresher the better—is the majority herb, but almost any other fresh, tender herb can enhance a salsa verde: tarragon, chervil, and chives are good choices. Use a sharp knife when you chop parsley (and other herbs). A sharp knife slices cleanly through the leaves, preserving both flavor and color, while a dull knife mashes and bruises them. The zest is the thin yellow outer layer of the lemon’s skin; avoid grating any of the bitter white part (called the pith) beneath. The zest brightens the flavor of the sauce, so don’t be shy with it; you may need more than one lemon’s worth. Don’t hesitate to experiment. I make salsa verde more or less thick depending on what I am using it for. I tend to use less oil when it’s for roasted meats and grilled vegetables and more for fish.

Velvety, luscious, garlicky mayonnaise—what the French call aïoli (pronounced eye-oh-lee)—is another sauce I use all the time: on sandwiches; with vegetables, both raw and cooked; with meat and fish; as the binder for chicken salad and egg salad; and as a base for sauces such as tartar sauce. Most children, even very young ones, love aïoli and will happily use it as a dip for bite after bite of bread, carrots, potatoes, and even vegetables they might otherwise refuse. Two or three small cloves of garlic per egg yolk, pounded with a mortar and pestle, make a fairly pungent garlic mayonnaise—depending on the garlic. The strength of garlic’s flavor can vary a lot, depending on freshness, season, and variety. I always pound the garlic in a mortar and pestle and reserve half of it, so I can add it later if the aïoli needs it. (You can always add more garlic, but you can’t subtract it.) It’s important to pound the garlic to a very smooth purée so the sauce will be garlicky through and through, not just a mayonnaise with bits of garlic in it. One egg yolk will absorb up to one cup of oil, but you can add less if you don’t need that much mayonnaise. Whisk the oil in drop by drop at first, adding more as you go. It is much easier to whisk when the bowl is steadied. To help hold it still, set it on top of a coiled dish towel. Adding a small amount of water to the egg yolk before you incorporate the oil helps prevent the sauce from separating or “breaking.” If mayonnaise does separate, stop adding oil, but don’t despair. Just crack a fresh egg, separate the yolk into a new bowl, add a little water as before, and slowly whisk in first the broken sauce and then the rest of the oil. Make aïoli half an hour ahead of time, to give the flavors a chance to marry. As with anything made with raw eggs, if you’re not going to serve mayonnaise within an hour, refrigerate it. Aïoli tastes best the day it’s made.

In Mexico, pickled onions are to taco stands what pickle relish is to a hot dog cart in the U.S.—a condiment that taco-lovers can’t do without. Make it at home and save yourself the trip across the border.

In Mexico pico de gallo is used to describe a wide variety of regional salsas, which are always made with cubed fresh fruit and/ or vegetables. Pico de gallo is also known as salsa picada, which means minced or chopped sauce. The most common version is made with red tomatoes, onion, and green chiles and is sometimes called salsa mexicana or salsa bandera, because the colors in the salsa represent those of the Mexican flag. I like to make mine with yellow tomatoes when I am in the mood for a sweeter salsa. Feel free to use red tomatoes if you want to keep it traditional.

Sweet potatoes cooked in piloncillo (unrefined solid cane sugar, usually found in the shape of small truncated cones) are sold as candy at Mexican mercados. They are way too sweet for me, but there’s no denying the spud’s versatility. Here I highlight their savory flavor by mashing sweet potatoes with a little butter and sage in a great fall dish that works well with roasted turkey. Feel free to use skim milk instead of whole milk, if you must, but keep that stick of butter!

The state of Veracruz is the main growing region for chayote, a gourd that is eaten throughout Mexico and was once the principal food for Mayans and Aztecs. My family often serves it steamed, with a lime wedge. Here it is paired in perfect balance with spicy chorizo for an even tastier side dish.

Pickled veggies show up on tables in many restaurants, bars, and homes across Mexico. These are great alongside meat, atop a quesadilla, or alone as a happy hour snack.