One-Pot Meals

This stir-fry gets its hit of green from bok choy and mizuna, a Japanese salad green.

Forget juggling a plate of food with your cocktail glass: These no-fuss kebabs make it easy to munch while mingling. Plus, just one savory skewer delivers nearly half of your daily protein needs.

Any food historian will tell you that trying to track down the origin of a recipe is like chasing tadpoles. There are so many, and they all look alike. Even when you find what seems to be the original source, you can't necessarily believe it because adapting recipes is an age—old industry. Nonetheless, I thought I'd give the hunt a try with chicken Canzanese, an unusual recipe that ran in the Times in 1969. A Google search for "chicken Canzanese" yielded many results, a number of them facsimiles, or slight variations of the chicken dish that appeared in the Times. There's one on Cooks.com that's a close adaptation of the Times's recipe, another by Mario Batali on the Food Network's website and one by Anna Teresa Callen, the cookbook author and teacher, on her own website. Batali's and Callen's, which vary only slightly from the Times's recipe, are nearly word for word the same. Only one recipe that I found sourced the Times's recipe, which itself came from Ed Giobbi, a cookbook author, and was written about by Craig Claiborne. You can also find plenty of turkey recipes done in the style of Canzanese (Canzano is in the Abruzzo region in Italy), which refers to braised turkey, served cold with chopped turkey aspic. But chicken Canzanese, which is not mentioned in important Italian cookbooks like Le Ricette Regionali Italiane (Italian Regional Cooking), is completely different. When you make it, you understand why it's still kicking around after all these decades. After flash-brining the chicken, you throw everything into the pan at the same time—chicken, cubed prosciutto, sage, bay leaves, rosemary, garlic, chile, cloves, peppercorns, and wine—and end up with a dish that has the fragrance of Chinese steamed duck and the succulence of a Bolognese sauce. I sensed that it would be impossible to come to a conclusion about where chicken Canzanese originated (Giobbi's recipe was the earliest I could find), and this was confirmed as soon as I started calling people. Callen said she grew up in Abruzzo eating chicken Canzanese. Batali, who regularly credits people from whom he adapts recipes, said that he must have gotten his from Callen, and was apologetic about the borrowing. Giobbi, whose recipe came from a family friend in Abruzzo, suggested that perhaps Callen was influenced by him. When I asked Callen if there was any chance she referred to Giobbi's recipe when writing about her family's dish, she said, "Could be, very well." I didn't intend this to be an investigation—recipes are adapted all the time, it's one of the primary ways cuisines evolve—so I did not chase down the dozens of sites that appear to have copied Callen or Batali. One thing is clear, though: a good recipe has a thousand fathers, but a bad one is an orphan.

The key to this comforting soup? Tons of fresh veggies and a rich broth.

The sweetness of the tomatoes and the fennel is balanced by the savory, starchy beans.

This is a different sort of frittata, not the neat golden round of well-set eggs that’s probably most familiar. Here the eggs are in the skillet for barely a minute, just long enough to gather in soft, loose folds, filled with morsels of asparagus and shreds of prosciutto. In fact, when I make this frittata or the “dragged” eggs—uova strapazzate, page 143—I leave my eggs still wet and glistening so I can mop up the plate with a crust of country bread. That’s the best part of all.

Sweet crabmeat and sweet peas make a great match in this springlike risotto.

These Provençal eggs, laced with softened onions and chard, never fail to elicit sighs of appreciation. I'm forever grateful to Nathalie Waag for making trouchia when she came to visit—it has since become a favorite. The trick to its success is to cook everything slowly so that the flavors really deepen and sweeten.

The beloved ginger root, that ubiquitous Asian ingredient, is paired with Italian Arborio rice in this super-simple risotto. The most important thing to remember when making a risotto is to never let it rest while on the burner: stir, stir, stir! In Italy a risotto is usually served as a primo piatto, after the starter and before the main dish. I've included this recipe with the main courses because I think that risotto can hold its own as an entrée, rather than a starter. And it is a great main course option for vegetarians if you substitute vegetable broth for the chicken stock.

Traditionally, the broth, meats, and vegetables are all served separately, but feel free to serve everything in the same bowl. The beans need to soak overnight, so start this recipe one day ahead.

This soup is good and velvety on its own, but the chile butter adds a luxurious crowning touch.

The rice needs to stir-fry in a generous amount of oil. (It's fried rice, after all.) If you don't use enough oil, the dish starts to taste more like a rice casserole. Note that except for the 2 eggs, 1 onion, and 1 garlic clove, all the other ingredients begin with 4.

Unlike their cousin the blueberry—which is sometimes used in savory cooking, although almost never successfully—cranberries are not at all sweet and so make a much more natural companion for meat. One trick I’ve learned over the years is that dusting the meat with a sprinkling of sugar makes the browning process go much more rapidly and leaves behind a caramelized residue that lends a great complexity to the final dish. It’s not an appropriate trick for every occasion, but it’s perfect for this gutsy, appealing, and unusual pot roast. Most pot roasts depend mightily for their flavor on the juices exuded by the meat itself, but since the meat’s contribution here is minimized by the powerful cranberry-based combination, a faster-cooking cut like tenderloin works perfectly, reducing the cooking time to just over an hour.

This streamlined version of the classic Spanish dish comes together in about an hour—and doesn't require a special paella pan. Sugar snap peas add fresh flavor and nice crunch.

At the center of the spiky leaves of the artichoke is the heart, the most tender, flavorful part of the vegetable. It takes a little work to get to the heart, but the extra effort is well worth it.