Vegan

THIS SABBATH RICE DISH, typical of Provence, reveals the history both of pilau or pilaf, as it is called in French, and of Persian Jews who settled in the area near the Camargue, the rice-growing area of southwestern Provence located on the triangle of land between the two major tributaries of the Rhône River. Jews, first by barge and later by boat, used the river to bring goods here from the Mediterranean. The word and the dish pilau come from Persia, taking various forms as the dish traveled around the world. In India, it became pulao; in modern-day Iran, it is called polo; and in Provence, pelau or pilaf. Rice, and therefore pilaf, traveled with the Jews to Provence, where many Persian Jewish merchants and scholars settled and lived until the end of the fourteenth century or even later. These Jews, who traded rice, cooked it for the Sabbath with fragrant spices like nutmeg, garlic, cumin, cinnamon, and saffron. Some scholars believe that Jews brought saffron to Europe from Asia Minor for their Sabbath rice. The late Karen Hess, author of The Carolina Rice Kitchen, repeatedly told me that Jews first brought rice to the Camargue. In their Inventory of the Culinary Patrimony of France, Philip and Mary Hyman relate that emigrants from the Piedmont paid a dîme of rice to noblemen in the year 1497. And although pilau and riz au safran are no longer particularly Jewish dishes in Provence, they are clearly rooted in the Sabbath tradition. This simple recipe is typically eaten on Rosh Hashanah, alongside a symbolic whole roasted fish with a Sephardic sweet-and-sour greengage-plum sauce.

MOROCCAN COOKS USUALLY MAKE this tasty salad with Swiss chard, but I have seen it also with beet leaves. Eaten all year round, it is prepared by Moroccans on Rosh Hashanah for their Sephardic Seder, when they say a series of blessings over squash, leeks, dates, pomegranates, black-eyed peas, apples, the head of a fish or a lamb, and Swiss chard and beet greens.

Think of this as Mexican toast.

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

Escoffier codified the mother sauces of French cooking. In the Italian-American tradition, there is only one: tomato sauce. Call it marinara (we do), call it gravy (we don't), call it whatever your grandma called it. It's tomato sauce. There's almost nothing we won't cook in it or put it on. The real deal—what we grew up with and the way we would do it if we had our choice (and didn't have so many vegetarian friends and customers) would be to make that sauce, then simmer up a batch of braciola or meatballs in it, and then use the resulting meat-infused product as our "tomato sauce" in all its myriad applications. And if you're not catering to vegetarians, we advise doing just that: make a triple batch of sauce, use it to simmer up braciola or meatballs and then use that tomato sauce, fresh or from the freezer, whenever tomato sauce is called for in these pages. Use good Italian canned tomatoes and high quality olive oil when making this sauce, and take your time—there's no rushing it. When you're cooking the garlic, you want to very, very slowly convert the starches in it to sugars and then to caramelize those sugars. Slow and steady. Then get the tomatoes in and let them simmer. Not a ton happens over the four hours—no epic deepening of color or furious reduction—but it cooks as much water out of the tomatoes as possible without turning them into tomato paste.

This slaw is perfect as a side dish or added to a pulled-pork sandwich.

Savor this sweet blueberry sauce on Greek yogurt, French toast, waffles, pancakes, and vanilla ice cream.

Kohlrabi, a bulbous vegetable with thin stems attached, is a member of the cabbage family. Both green and purple varieties are available. The flavor is a mix of turnip, celery root, and radish. Like other vegetables in the cabbage family, kohlrabi is rich in antioxidants.

Ciao Bella has made this classic Italian flavor since the beginning, and it's the favorite of our president, Charlie Apt. Campari, invented in the 1860s by Gaspare Campari, is an alcoholic beverage made with a secret mixture of herbs and bark that gives it its characteristic bitter edge. Here that bitterness is intensified by the sharpness of the grapefruit, which makes this the quintessential palate cleanser; if you want to serve it as a dessert, increase the sugar to 2 cups. Campari's distinctive red color lends a beautiful gentle pink tone to the sorbetto. For a nonalcoholic grapefruit sorbetto, simply omit the Campari.

The veggies are great at room temperature, so grill them a couple of hours ahead, if you like. Cooking them ahead also frees up room on the grill for whatever meat you’re grilling (lamb would be delicious with the vegetables).

These are delicious as part of an appetizer plate, or as a Martini garnish.

The exotic flavors of passion fruit and guava are layered in these pretty ice pops. To create perfectly defined layers, chill the guava mixture while the passion fruit mixture is freezing.

If you prefer a spicier sauce, add two chipotles instead of one.

Marinated eggplant makes a great antipasto, alone or as part of a larger spread. It also works as an accompaniment to grilled meat and fish. However you serve it, I strongly suggest you make sure to save enough for a sandwich. Country bread with grilled marinated eggplant, prosciutto, and mozzarella—really, really good.

This is terrific on grilled baguette slices, sprinkled with feta or fresh goat cheese. Or try it as a topping for grilled fish or chicken.

Try this deliciously smoky side dish with grilled lamb chops.

Fresh ginger gives this a zesty kick.

A V-slicer or mandoline is the perfect tool for thinly slicing the fennel. The fresh apricots add a nice sweetness to the salad, but feel free to skip them if they're not available in your area.