Eastern Mediterranean mezze get the José Andrés treatment in his wonderful new 'Zaytinya' cookbook

By Leslie Brenner

A month ago, you might have been tempted to think the world already had enough Mediterranean cookbooks — and then José Andrés published one.

The prolific restaurateur and founder of World Central Kitchen seems to have put his heart and soul into Zaytinya, which celebrates the mezze (shared small plates) tradition of the Eastern Mediterranean — Greece, Turkey and Lebanon. (Zaytinya means “olive oil” in Turkish).

More specifically, it celebrates “José’s way” with those dishes — just as the Washington, D.C. restaurant it’s named for does. The result is one of the most exciting cookbooks published in the last few years. The recipes are tremendously appetizing and do-able, and the dishes that wound up on my table were, without exception, pretty spectacular.

Most exciting to me is the book’s deep dive into Greek culinary traditions and ingredients. Serious titles on the subject are uncommon on the American cookbook landscape, and it’s such an appealing cuisine. Happily, it is a strong focus in the book.

But it’s not Greek grandma cooking (nor Turkish or Lebanese grandma cooking) that’s on display in this volume. As Andrés writes in his introduction, his mezze honor the region’s traditional dishes but “created in a new way — using ingredients and techniques that inspire me and my team. That’s what gives Zaytinya its unique style, and what has filled the restaurant from the first day it opened, two decades ago.”

Seared Scallops with Tzatziki, prepared from a recipe in ‘Zaytinya’: This is not Greek grandma cooking.

José’s way with scallops

Andrés’ recipe for Seared Scallops with Tzatziki is a case in point. The tzatziki is pretty straightforward-traditional; garlic confit in place of raw garlic is a worthwhile cheffy touch, and the tzatziki on its own is wonderful. Here it gets spread it on a plate, topped with seared scallops and garnished with shaved radishes, herbs and Sumac Rose Spice — a magical blend of pink peppercorns, dried rose petals, sumac, cumin, Urfa pepper and sesame seeds. The use of rose petals is more Persian, Turkish and Indian than Greek, and that’s the kind of flair that makes so many of the recipes stand out.

That spice mix also happens to be gorgeous, so it’s surprising that the photo of the scallops in the book leaves it off. (When was the last time a recipe you attempted at home was prettier than the photo in the book?) Since testing the recipe, I’ve been using the mix on all kinds of things: sprinkled on other fish besides scallops; over leeks vinaigrette, or over labneh for a snack. (It would also be fantastic on cacik, the Turkish yogurt-and-cucumber soup, or on minted pea soup, hot or cold.)

RECIPE: ‘Zaytinya’ Seared Scallops with Tzatziki

The book does include some recipes that are completely traditional, particularly in the chapter on sauces and spreads. There you’ll find straight-ahead hummus and toum; I didn’t test those, but I did test a recipe for muhammara. — roasted red pepper and walnut spread. Andrés’ headnote explains that the dip is “often associated with Syria, but it’s also claimed by Lebanon and Turkey,” where the dish is made with Marash pepper, very similar to Aleppo (which is what Andrés’ recipe calls for). Andrés has you roast the peppers partway, then scatter walnuts over them and continue roasting, then sprinkle Aleppo pepper and cumin over those and roast a little longer. Then everything gets blitzed together. Very smart, simple and user-friendly, and that muhamarra was easily the best that’s ever come out of my kitchen.

RECIPE: ‘Zaytinya’ Muhammara

Zaytinya’s introduction provides a lot of rich background — about what first drew the Spanish-born chef to the Eastern Mediterranean, and about all the history and shared culture that connect modern-day Greece, Turkey and Lebanon. “The connections between the people of this region are old and deep,” he writes, “and their shared food traditions prove that what brings us together is more powerful than what separates us.”

He tells us about the time he and his wife spent in Athens, Santorini, Thessaloniki and Istanbul more than two decades ago, doing research for the restaurant, and particularly time spent with the Kea, Greece-based cookbook author Aglaia Kremenzi, who became an important “mentor and guide.” It’s so delightful to read about restaurant R&D with that kind of depth and seriousness — such a rarity. America is filled with restaurants that get their ideas about the cuisines they represent from other American restaurants representing those cuisines, without their chefs and owners going back and diving deeply into those food cultures where they were born. That depth of research is felt throughout the book.

Gigantes star in a Turkish-Greek crossover

Once of my favorite dishes (at least so far; I have a couple dozen Post-Its on the pages of dishes I still want to make) is Andrés’ spin on piyaz, traditionally a Turkish bean-and-onion salad. Here it’s given a Greek twist with the addition of dill and ladolemono, a lemon-honey dressing. It’s served warm, more of a bean stew. Andrés calls for dried gigante beans or large limas; I used heirloom Royal Coronas from Rancho Gordo, which were ideal.

RECIPE: ‘Zaytinya’ White Bean Stew

A few tiny quibbles

The book isn’t perfect. Some of the yields were off (the Muhammara recipe says it makes about 1 cup; in fact it made nearly 2 cups); a recipe for Greek almond cookies (amygdalota) yielded 39 cookies, nine more than the 30 stated. Not a big deal, but 30 would have fit on one baking sheet, and 39 do not. An otherwise excellent recipe for meatballs in spiced tomato sauce, or soutzoukakia, makes far more sauce than needed for the one-pound-worth of ground beef it calls for; next time I’d make one-and-a-half times as much of the meatballs.

Also, I couldn’t help but wonder, other than the larger-format dishes in a chapter called “Family & Fire,” are these dishes really all meant to be mezze? I dearly love those scallops, but if they’re only meant to be one part of a big spread, that’s a lot of work. It’s not too much work for a main course, though — especially one that’s such a show-stopper.

A bit of explanation about how to approach menu-planning would have been appreciated. How many dishes would you plan for a spread, or how should one strategize executing them? Should you do a few cold ones and a few hot?

Finally, it seems crazy, in this day and age, not to include metric measures in a cookbook. I added metric equivalents in my adaptation of Andrés’ recipes, but they’re not in the original.

These are small quibbles, though, especially as everything tested was so delicious and appealing; there wasn’t a single dish I wouldn’t make again. (The spiced tomato sauce for those meatballs was outrageously good.)

I’ll certainly make Zaytinya’s Garides Me Ánitho (Buttery Shrimp with Dill) again, but I’ll need to get signed permission slips from my guests’ cardiologists: The mezze, which serves four, uses an entire stick of butter. I almost didn’t make it, until I read in the headnote that “shrimp like these are served in tavernas throughout Greece, along with a glass of ouzo,” and that it’s been on the menu at Zaytinya since it opened. (Damn — I missed it the couple times I dined there!)

Here Andrés’ twist is adding a touch of grainy mustard. It’s really good.

RECIPE: ‘Zaytinya’ Greek Taverna Shrimp (Garides Me Ánitho)

And those recipes with Post-Its?

There are so many I’m eager to make. Hommus with Spiced Lamb. Taramasalata Andrés promises will be a revelation (a jar of tarama, or carp roe, is on its way to me). Handmade Phyllo. Turkish Stuffed Eggplant (Mam Bayikdi). Cod Steamed in Grape Leaves (Bakaliarios Se Klimatofila). Manti (the iconic Turkish savory dumplings in yogurt sauce). A spice-rubbed Roasted Lamb Shoulder that looks amazing; you serve it with lettuce leaves, harissa, tzatziki, toum and pita bread. A beautiful parfait of Greek Yogurt with Apricots. Walnut Ice Cream.

All of which is a long-winded way of saying if you love cooking Mediterranean food, you definitely want this book.

Zaytinya: Delicious Mediterranean Dishes from Greece, Turkey, and Lebanon by José Andrés, Ecco, 2024, $45.

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If you like this review, you might enjoy:

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READ: Cookbooks We Love: Reem Kassis’ ‘The Arabesque Table’ offers irresistible spins on Levantine tradition

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It's a semolina granule, it's a dreamy stew, it's a Mahgreb celebration: couscous!

By Leslie Brenner

To lots of people, couscous is something you buy in a box, add to a pan of boiling water, stir, let sit 5 minutes then fluff with fork. Maybe they’ll zhuzzh it up a bit and call it a side dish.

But couscous can be so much more — as it is in its birthplace, the Maghreb subregion of North Africa.

In countries like Tunisia, Algeria and Morocco, couscous is both “grains” of rolled semolina like the ones that come in that box, and a savory meat-and-vegetable stew that’s spooned on top of the grains.

More accurately, those grains are granules. Made from crushed durum wheat (semolina), they are related to pasta, but they’re not exactly pasta. Traditionally they’re made by mixing the durum with water, and rubbing the mixture between your palms into granules. The granules are put through a sieve, and anything small enough to go through has to be rubbed again. It’s very labor-intensive. The granules are then steamed, then dried in the sun.

That’s just the beginning: To serve couscous, it has to be cooked — which involves steaming it several times (traditionally in a dedicated couscous steamer, known as a couscoussier), and spreading it out and rubbing it to separate the granules in-between steamings. After the last steaming, it’s super light and fluffy: the couscous ideal. (Properly prepared couscous is never clumpy or gummy.)

To say couscous is culturally important in the Maghreb is an understatement. “Couscous is considered the most important traditional dish among the Maghreb people,” wrote Oumelkheir Soulimani in a 2020 article in the African Journal of Food, Agriculture, Nutrition and Development.

The food historian Charles Perry (my former colleague at the Los Angeles Times), wrote about couscous for the Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery in 1989. His paper, “Couscous and its Cousins,” points out that in Morocco and Algeria, “the local word for it is sometimes identical to the word for ‘food’ in general.” He concludes that it was the Berbers of northern Algeria and Morocco who first created couscous, sometime between the 11th and 13th centuries.

So the tradition is very old.

(Of course there’s also the pearl couscous that’s popular throughout the Levant — in Lebanon, Israel, Jordan and Syria. Those much-larger granules are produced in a similar way, but the aesthetic is very different. That’s another story.)

How is what you buy in the box different than scratch-made semolina rolled between the palms? Soulimani explains that in detail — basically, it’s similar to the artisanal product up to the point where it’s dried.

When you follow the simple instructions on the box, you’re skipping the whole steaming routine that traditionally follows. The couscous tastes fine, but it’s much heavier than the ideal; a box of couscous steamed three times makes twice the volume of one made according to package instructions. And it sits heavy in your belly. That’s why until recently, if I wanted to do couscous right, I’d set up a steamer (I don’t own a couscoussier — pronounced coose-coose-ee-YAY) and spend a couple hours preparing the granules. No, you don’t have to do that to make a great couscous; more on that presently.

Either way, you’re using industrial couscous from the box (or bag, or whatever) — unless, of course, you happen to be in possession of some hand-rolled, sun-dried couscous.

The topper: a festive stew

The stews that go on top are wide-ranging: They can involve lamb, chicken, fish or vegetables, or a combination. Often there’s a sweet element — raisins or caramelized onions, pumpkin or sweet potato; sometimes chicken is brushed with honey. There’s usually cinnamon and saffron, and harissa — which may also be served on the side. Traditionally, fresh country butter (smen or oudi) may be included.

READ: How to make your own Tunisian-style harissa — and why you’ll be thrilled you did.

Since I was a wee twenty-something, I’ve been making a festive rendition inspired by a traditional Moroccan dish: couscous with seven vegetables, in the style of Fes. The seven vegetables are a Berber tradition; they include zucchini, turnips, carrots, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, cabbage and pumpkin. The Fes-style couscous also includes chickpeas, raisins and onions, along with chicken and lamb, cilantro, cinnamon, saffron, harissa. The grains get tossed in a lot of butter.

My couscous includes all of the above except for raisins, cabbage and sweet potato; instead of pumpkin, I use delicata squash because it’s easier and (to me) more delicious. I skip the butter on the couscous — I find it’s rich enough without it, as the broth is rich.

Why do I skip some of the vegetables? Only because I first learned to make the dish from a cookbook in the Time-Life “The Good Cook” series. A method more than a recipe (as was the habit in those excellent books), it gave a basic outline — which worked great. Over the years, I’ve evolved it a bit.

Putting it all together

The basic idea is make a broth with cut-up lamb and chicken; chickpeas are included from the start if you’re using dried ones, or toward the end of you’re using canned (either is fine). The broth is flavored with harissa, cinnamon, cilantro, tomato and diced carrots and onion; big chunks of carrot and turnip are added later, followed by zucchini and roasted red pepper strips. Once everything is tender and delicious (what a gorgeous aroma!) and your fluffy couscous is ready, you put the granules on a platter and lay the meats, chickpeas and veg on top, along with roasted delicata squash rounds. Moisten it all with a little broth, and bring it to the table, along with a sauceboat of broth and a dish of harissa.

Recently, a brilliant solution surfaced for the age-old couscous granule quandary of whether to spend hours steaming and rubbing, or take the 5-minute box-instructions shortcut. In her recent cookbook Claudia Roden’s Mediterranean, the renowned author devised a quick-and-easy method that’s a hundred times better than the box-instructions. (Basically, pour on boiling water, stir, wait five minutes, stir again, wait five minute, drizzle on a little olive oil, then rub the grains between your hands to separate the granules and coat with oil. Cover with foil and bake 10 or 15 minutes. Fantastic!)

One day (maybe soon!) I’ll make a proper couscous with seven vegetables in the manner of Fes. And I did get my hands on hand-rolled, sun-dried couscous from Tunisia; Zingerman’s sells it. I, however, have not yet been able to get satisfactory results cooking it according to package directions or using Roden’s method. I’m going to continue working with the product, and if I succeed, that’ll be another story, too.

For now, I invite you to enjoy a couscous that’s always been a favorite among my friends and family — using the familiar couscous in a box and incorporating Roden’s clever hack. Want to make it super-special? Take the time to make homemade harissa. But even if you use harissa from a tube, I think you’ll love this.

RECIPE: Chicken and Lamb Couscous

RECIPE: Harissa

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The dreamiest moussaka, perfect for thrilling a crowd

By Leslie Brenner

If you’re in a certain Mediterranean mood, there’s nothing more marvelous than a great moussaka. With its layers of potato, eggplant, tomatoey lamb sauce and silky béchamel, Greece’s most famous dish has irresistible appeal.

In fact, when it’s carefully made, moussaka is one of the best dishes in the world. It’s perfect for this time of year, when eggplants are still in peak season and it’s cool enough to finally turn on the oven.

Yet somehow, moussaka has gotten left behind in the universe’s decades-long love affair with Mediterranean food. You don’t find it on restaurant menus much, nor is the internet bursting with outstanding moussaka recipes.

In an attempt to right that wrong, three years ago I set about to explore the origins of the dish and create the best version I could conjure — and came up with what a friend who tasted it called “Moussaka for the Ages.” Fragrant with allspice and cinnamon, it’s at once saucy, bright and rich; the way its creamy crown of béchamel plays with the lamby, saucy layers makes it eminently craveable.

READ: “Moussaka, a spectacular dish with a curious history, gets a magnificent makeover”

It’s great for feeding a crowd. Begin the fun with a big green salad (to keep it simple), or a cold mezze (appetizer spread) if you want to live large (weekend party!). You can build the moussaka ahead of time, stopping at the point where you add the béchamel topping. After that, the final half-hour or so of baking is pretty much hands-off, and it needs to rest 15 minutes after that, so the dish settles and the flavors bloom.

My version is less messy and easier than traditional version, which started with frying potatoes then eggplant. For the eggplant, I go a sheet-pan route, seasoning and drizzling olive oil on thick slices, and roasting them to melty tenderness. This results in a lighter moussaka with a more lovely caramelized eggplant flavor. Slices of potato, which form the base, get parboiled.

The béchamel-and-cheese topping on my moussaka is a little different than traditional versions as well. Lightened with yogurt, it’s brighter and fluffier; grated cheese gives it depth.

Try it this weekend — if you’re not feeding a crew, you can enjoy it reheated for a weeknight dinner or two.

RECIPE: Moussaka for the Ages

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Five dishes we can’t wait to dive into this fall

By Leslie Brenner

Finally, a return to cooking! Earthy, warm flavors, a little roasting, a touch of char: so many things are enticing us back into the kitchen. Here are five dishes we’re excited to revisit this month.

Green Olive, Walnut and Pomegranate Salad

 This Turkish salad, from ‘Claudia Roden’s Mediterranean,’ stole our hearts in early summer, when pomegranates’ season was still three months away — it looked so good, we couldn’t review the book without giving it a try. Now that it’s pomegranate time, we can’t wait to get it back on the table.

RECIPE: Claudia Roden’s Stupendous Salad

Hooni Kim’s Japchae

Stretchy dangmyeon — clear noodles made from sweet potato starch — are the star japchae, a beloved staple of Korean home cooking. We love this version from Hooni Kim’s My Korea. (Kim, chef-owner of Meju and Danji in New York, has been making a huge splash with his year-old Little Banshan Shop.)

The japchae’s springy noodles get tangled in this recipe with spinach, red and green bell peppers, fresh shiitakes and onions in an umamiful sauce scented with sesame. It’s easy to make it vegan and/or gluten-free: Use water or vegan dashi in place of seafood-based dashi to make it vegan, and swap gluten-free tamari for soy sauce to make it gluten-free.

RECIPE: Hooni Kim’s Japchae

Chicken Musakhan

The national dish of Palestine — chicken roasted with lots of onion, olive oil and spices —  is traditionally made during the olive-pressing season in October. It’s served on flatbread, to soak up all those wonderful juices and olive oil. Sami Tamimi’s rendition, from his outstanding cookbook Falastin, is nothing short of spectacular.

RECIPE: Chicken Musakhan

Charred Okra with a Little Spice

 To celebrate okra at the height of their season, toss them in a little olive oil and salt, char them on a stovetop grill or griddle and finish with a drizzle of sambal oelek — Indonesian chile sauce. The result: cocktail snack extraordinaire.

 RECIPE: Charred Okra with a Little Spice

Charred Baby Eggplants from Anjali Pathak’s ‘The Indian Family Kitchen’

Anjali Pathak’s Charred Baby Eggplants

Baby eggplants halved and scored, then roasted or grilled, get a crunchy topping of coconut, mustard seeds, curry leaves and ginger – plus zingy red chiles and dabs of tangy yogurt. From Anjali Pathak’s The Indian Family Kitchen, it’s a winner.

RECIPE: Anjali Pathak’s Charred Baby Eggplants 

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5 favorite chilled soups — all of them vegetarian or vegan

Turkish cacik — chilled yogurt and cucumber soup with mint and dill

By Leslie Brenner

When the weather is sizzling hot, there’s nothing like a cold soup to refresh and restore.

Here are my five current faves. Two are vegan (the gazpachos); three are made without even turning on the stove (the gazpachos and the cacik). All are vegetarian. The borscht can also be vegan, if you leave off the sour cream stirred in at the end.

Cacik — Turkish Yogurt and Cucumber Soup

I love the traditional Turkish yogurt-and-cucumber soup known as cacik, first because it’s delicious and simple, but also because it you can make it in no time flat, by hand, without turning on the stove or even plugging anything in. Just whisk some yogurt to smoothness, add cucumber you’ve grated on a box grater, and whisk it together with chopped fresh mint and dill, a little white wine vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper. Drop an ice cube in each bowl, top with more herbs (if you like) and enjoy.

Making cacik is a decidedly low-tech endeavor.

RECIPE: Cacik — Cold Yogurt and Cucumber Soup

Gazpacho Sevillano

Have some gorgeous ripe tomatoes? Seville’s classic tomato gazpacho is the play. Its beautiful sherry tang makes it super refreshing.

RECIPE: Gazpacho Sevillano

The Greenest Gazpacho

Easy, herbal and honestly pretty dreamy, this green vegan gazpacho gets body from raw almonds or cashews.

RECIPE: The Greenest Gazpacho

My Mom’s Cold Beet Borscht

This is one of my favorite summer meals — my mom’s recipe. It’s lightly sweet, tangy and transporting.

RECIPE: Joan’s Cold Beet Borscht

Chilled Minted Pea Soup

Our Ridiculously Easy Mint Pea Soup — based on a traditional French potage Saint Germain — is normally served hot, as shown above. Leave off the crème fraîche garnish and chill it, and it’s fabulous eaten cold.

RECIPE: Ridiculously Easy Minted Pea Soup

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Cookbooks We Love: 'Claudia Roden's Mediterranean' is one of the revered author's greatest volumes

By Leslie Brenner

Claudia Roden’s Mediterranean: Treasured Recipes from a Lifetime of Travel, by Claudia Roden, Ten Speed Press, 2021, $40

Somehow, Claudia Roden’s latest cookbook — reprising her cooking life and travels over the last three and a half decades — was passed over last year from the major cookbook awards. It’s hard to understand why, as Claudia Roden’s Mediterranean is one of the revered cookbook author’s very best collections.

Backgrounder

Born in Cairo, Egypt to Jewish-Syrian parents, and now based in London, 87-year-old Roden has made a brilliant career of studying and writing about the foods of the Middle East and Mediterranean. Her 2011 title, The Food of Spain — a 609-page magnum opus — won first prize for International Cookbooks by the International Association of Culinary Professionals. Her 1968 book, The New Book of Middle Eastern Food, was updated 32 years later, then inducted in 2010 in the James Beard Foundation’s Cookbook Hall of Fame. In 1997, The Book of Jewish Food: An Odyssey from Samarkand to New York won the James Beard Award for Cookbook of the Year.

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To put together her latest book, Roden looked back at her travels all around the Mediterranean over the last thirty-five years — since her three children left home. Arriving in Alexandria at the start of the adventure, she was exhilarated to find the “city of freedom and pleasure” she remembered from childhood. “You felt the exuberant lighthearted mood in the cafés along the seafront,” she writes in the introduction. “Italian, Greek and French were spoken on the street. The city was part of another world, one to which Marseille and Barcelona, Genoa, Athens and Algiers, Beirut and Tangier also belonged.” That revelation sent her into a decades-long search of that spirit again, and this book is the result.

When the book was published in November, 2021, Melissa Clark visited Roden at her home in London to interview her for a profile — one that’s a must-read if you’re a Roden fan.

Why We Love It

Easy, breezy and relaxed, Claudia Roden’s Mediterranean is filled with recipes that feel like the way Roden might cook at home; her personality comes through in this book much more vividly than in her earlier ones. Many of the recipes serve two people (and are easy to scale up), perfect for weeknight dinners that pack maximum deliciousness into minimum effort. Others are ideal for laid-back entertaining.

When I close my eyes and open the volume, I can almost be sure to be looking at something I want to make: Eggplants with Pomegranate Dressing and Yogurt Sauce. Bullinada (a Catalan fish stew enriched with mayo). Stuffed Peppers with Breadcrumbs, Anchovies, Olives and Capers. Chicken and Onion “Pies” with Moroccan Flavors. Tagliolini with Lemon. Hazelnut Cake with Chocolate Ganache. Those are literally random page-opens.

I’m excited to write about the book now, because so many of its recipes are perfect for summer.

Fennel, Peach and Goat Cheese Salad

Case in point: a graceful salad of thin-sliced fennel tossed with fresh peaches, cucumber and goat cheese — summer on a plate.

RECIPE: Claudia Roden’s Fennel, Peach and Goat Cheese Salad

Delay This Gratification — or Not!

This gorgeous Green Olive, Walnut and Pomegranate Salad, will be perfect come fall, but I loved it so much I couldn’t leave it out of this review. It’s a specialty of Gaziantep, a Turkish city on the border with Syria.

Should you decide to make it right away, I won’t blame you — it’s wonderfully tangy, thanks to pomegranate molasses, with earthy walnuts for crunch and a lot of parsley and scallions.

RECIPE: Green Olive, Walnut and Pomegranate Salad

Beguiling Turkish Yogurt Soup with Chickpeas and Orzo

Also from Gaziantep is this quickly put-together chickpea and yogurt soup, enriched with an egg yolk; Roden writes in her headnote that she was charmed by at at a dinner in Istanbul to celebrate Gaziantep’s adoption by UNESCO as a Creative City for its gastronomy.

Canned chickpeas make it a breeze to assemble — perfect for weekday lunch or easy dinner.

RECIPE: Yogurt Soup with Orzo and Chickpeas

My New Favorite Dish

Saucy, garlicky, lusty and hassle-free, this chicken dish with green olives and boiled lemons was the first thing I made from the book, and I’ve made it three more times since — it’s that good.

In her headnote, Roden writes that it was inspired by “the sharp lemony flavors of one of the most famous Moroccan tagines.” Sized for eight, and ideal for relaxed entertaining, as you assemble it in a snap, then shove it in the oven and forget about it while it bakes for an hour.

Serve it with couscous. Roden offers a brilliant hack for giving it the light, fluffy texture of the grains made traditionally, steamed two or three times in a couscoussier, but with minimum hassle.

RECIPE: Claudia Roden’s Chicken with Olives and Lemon

Only One Miss

Only one recipe I tested (there were three more) was one I wouldn’t make again: A muhammara (walnut and roasted pepper dip) had the wrong texture — it was runny rather than a thick paste — and it was overwhelmed by too much pomegranate molasses. (Nothing, of course, that a few tweaks wouldn’t fix.)

On the other hand, I loved a Spanish dish of alubias con almejas — clams with white beans. And also garlicky pan-fried fish with with Sherry vinegar and Aleppo pepper. Both are sized for two.

Meanwhile, there are so many things I still want to try. A slow-roasted shoulder of lamb with couscous, dates and almonds. A potato salad with green olive tapenade. Almond pudding with apricot compote. Maybe that last one this weekend — after all, it’s apricot season.

If you love Mediterranean flavors, may this book land in your kitchen soon.

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Why my desert-isle cookbook author would probably be Claudia Roden

Medley of Spring Vegetables from Claudia Roden’s ‘The Food of Spain’

By Leslie Brenner

[Women have a history of writing the best cookbooks. That’s why throughout March — Women’s History Month — we’ll be featuring cookbooks by our favorite female authors.]

If I had to choose just one cookbook author and live with only that author’s books for the rest of my life, it might well be Claudia Roden. Somehow, after decades of cooking, I haven’t paid nearly enough attention to the widely lauded, highly accomplished, deeply interesting 87-year-old author of 20 cookbooks. Foolish, foolish me!

I own four Roden titles, and I’ve cooked from them all, always with excellent results. I’ve called upon her books frequently for research; they’ve informed my approach to baba ganoush and helped me develop a recipe for pita bread. But somehow I have rarely just relaxed and cooked from Roden’s books, and never fully recognized how much I love them. It’s a little like one of those old-fashioned romantic comedies where the young, handsome, gallivanting star suddenly sees that the love of his life has been right there under his nose the whole time: the girl next door. Only I’m not young, handsome or a gadabout, and Claudia Roden is definitely not the girl next door.

Born in Cairo, Egypt to Jewish-Syrian parents and now based in London, Roden has made a brilliant career of studying and writing about the foods of the Middle East and Mediterranean. Her 2011 title, The Food of Spain — a 609-page magnum opus — won first prize for International Cookbooks by the International Association of Culinary Professionals. Her 1968 book, The New Book of Middle Eastern Food, was updated 32 years later, then inducted in 2010 in the James Beard Foundation’s Cookbook Hall of Fame. In 1997, The Book of Jewish Food: An Odyssey from Samarkand to New York won the James Beard Award for Cookbook of the Year.

Ab Ghooshte Fasl (Iranian Bean Soup) from Claudia Roden’s ‘The New Book of Middle Eastern Food’

I love Roden’s aesthetic, she’s a great cook and a captivating food historian. Just about any other author I might choose to focus on for the rest of my life would have depth of knowledge in one or two, or maybe three food cultures. Roden has taken deep dives into so many. In one book alone — The New Book of Middle Eastern Food — she covers Albanian, Algerian, Armenian, Bedouin, Egyptian, Greek, Iranian, Tunisian, Turkish, Syrian, etc. etc., the work of more than two decades. She spent five intensive years researching Spanish cooking for the aforementioned magnum opus. Arabesque focuses on Morocco, Turkey and Lebanon.

As if that weren’t enough, 16 months ago she published Claudia Roden’s Mediterranean: Treasured Recipes from a Lifetime of Travel. And you know what? If you think the world already had enough Mediterranean cookbooks, it didn’t — Roden’s is one of the most quietly captivating ever published.

In the Introduction, Roden writes that after her children left home thirty-five years earlier, she embarked on a solo trip all around the Mediterranean inspired by a childhood memory of visiting Alexandria. Traveling alone was “strange and suspect” in those days, but it allowed her to meet people everywhere. “My interest was in home cooking and regional food,” she writes. “I was invited into homes where people still cooked as their parents and grandparents did.”

After so many decades, the Mediterranean — and all that she has encountered in her travels — continues to inspire her. Working on this particular book, she explains,

“has kept me happy, thinking of people and places, magic moments, and glorious food. It might be cold and raining outside, but in my kitchen and at my desk in London I am smiling under an azure sky. The smell of garlic sizzling with crushed coriander seeds takes me back to the Egypt of my childhood. The aroma of saffron and orange zest mingled with aniseeed and garlic triggers memories of the French Riviera.”

How beautiful is that?

I only started cooking from that last book a month ago; there are enticing recipes on nearly every page. The first dish I made was so wonderful, I made it again two weeks later: chicken thighs baked saucily with green olives, boiled lemons and lots of garlic. To accompany it Roden offers (practically in an aside), the most brilliant method for making couscous I’ve ever found — you pour salted warm water over the grains, stir them, let them swell for 10 minutes, then add olive oil and rub the couscous between your hands to “aerate the grains” and break up lumps. Cover it with foil and bake it for 10 or 15 minutes. The result is nearly as perfect as the traditional way, when you painstakingly moisten, rub, and steam the grains two or three times. I promise recipes soon, accompanying a review of the book.

Till then, please treat yourself to these Roden recipes:

Tender veg for early spring

If you can’t wait for spring, try this Medley of Spring Vegetables, inspired by the traditional Spanish soup menestra de primavera, from The Food of Spain. I made it last night, and I’d make it again next week.

RECIPE: Claudia Roden’s Medley of Spring Vegetables

Soup for a chilly late-winter day

On a cold day (there are surely still a few to come this season), simmer a pot of Ab Ghooshte Fasl — Iranian Bean Soup. The recipe is adapted from The New Book of Middle Eastern Food.

RECIPE: Ab Ghooshte Fasl (Iranian Bean Soup)

Savory snack for anytime

Cod Fritters from Claudia Roden’s ‘The Food of Spain’

Finally, these tender, fabulous Buñuelos de Bacalao — Cod Fritters — are made with fresh fish rather than salt cod. That means no soaking the fish, so you don’t have to think about them a day in advance.

RECIPE: Buñuelos de Bacalao (Cod Fritters)

I’ve only just scratched the surface in discovering all this cookbook giant has to offer. Hopefully I still have a long cooking life ahead of me because Roden’s thousands and thousands of pages promise infinite deliciousness.

BUY Claudia Roden’s books at Amazon

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Cookbooks We Love: Reem Kassis' 'The Arabesque Table' offers irresistible spins on Levantine tradition

By Leslie Brenner

The Arabesque Table: Contemporary Recipes from the Arab World by Reem Kassis; photographs by Dan Perez; 2021, Phaidon, $39.95.

Backgrounder

Born and raised in Jerusalem, Reem Kassis — who now lives in Pennsylvania, and lived in four other countries in between — is a former McKinsey consultant with two undergraduate degrees from the University of Pennsylvania, an MBA from Wharton and an MSc in social psychology from the London School of Economics. Following the birth of her first of two daughters, she stepped back from her 10-year career and decided to follow her “real passion” — cooking, food and food history. Her first cookbook, The Palestinian Table (2017), wove recipes from her family together with Palestinian culture and history. It won the British Guild of Food Writers First Book Award and was nominated for a James Beard Award.

Kassis’ aim with The Arabesque Table, as she explains in its introduction, was to write about and express in recipes “the evolving and cross-cultural Arab table.”

Why we love it

Kassis has created a fabulously rich collection of recipes and stories that manage to do three things at once. First, they ground us in the culinary traditions of the Arab world — particularly the Fertile Crescent (a.k.a. the Levant or the Middle East). Second, they paint an evocative picture of her Jerusalem childhood through food and her family traditions. And third, they give us a delicious collection of recipes that have her own very personal stamp.

Relatively new to the world of food-writing and professional cookery as Kassis may be, she has a great palate and a wonderful creative instincts. Her recipes respect and pay tribute to the flavors, ingredients and vibe of the Levant, but she’s not afraid to take liberties and risks — often to delightful effect. Many of these dishes will become permanent fixtures in my repertoire. Impressive!

For instance: a magnificent mega-mezza

Not a traditional dish, this roasted eggplant salad on a cushion of tahini is Kassis’ invention — combining elements of mutabal (roasted eggplant dip with tahini) and bitinjan al rahib (“monk’s eggplant” — roasted eggplant with fresh vegetables). As a result, it’s kind of like everything you want in a mezze assortment but all on one plate. The eggplant salad part, which has a gorgeous zing from just the right amount of pomegrante molasses, has pops of salty-meaty umami flavor from sliced green olives; walnuts add complexity and a bit of crunch. The tahini sauce is a creamy, rich foil. Swipe a piece of warm pita through it and you’re transported to everywhere you ever wanted to visit in the Levant.

RECIPE: ‘Arabesque Table’ Eggplant Salad on Tahini

And an elegant main you can make in a flash

I love this dish of shrimp sautéed with artichoke hearts, turmeric and garlic, enriched with a splash of half-and-half and brightened with slices of fresh lemon — with the salty undertone of preserved lemon. And once you have the shrimps peeled and deveined, it comes together nearly as quickly as you can read that sentence. (Seriously, you can have it to the table in 15 minutes.) In fact, I’ve made it twice in two weeks.

RECIPE: Reem Kassis’ Artichoke Shrimp with Turmeric and Preserved Lemon

This goes great with that

If you’re a fan of fresh fava beans, but don’t enjoy spending the time peeling every single one, you’ll be glad to know that the bags of frozen ones (already peeled!) you can buy in well stocked Middle Eastern groceries are nearly as good. Or maybe you already knew. In any case, Kassis reminds us — and offers her original take on a Levantine classic. In the traditional version, made with fresh favas, the skins are left on, and the beans are chopped then cooked in “a generous amount of oil” to the point of very soft, then flavored with garlic and coriander.

Kassis prefers them bright green and free of skins — and having tasted favas in their skins, I agree. She most often makes this using frozen favas, and again: agreed. The dish is easy, delicious and I’ve already made it thrice.

RECIPE: Fava Beans with Garlic, Cilantro and Lime

Gotta try this!

Every comprehensive Middle-Eastern cookbook offers instructions on making labneh (or labaneh), the thick, creamy fresh yogurt-cheese that’s ubiquitous in the region. But somehow I’d never tried it till Kassis sung its praises. You don’t need a recipe; just stir together a quart of full-fat yogurt (regular, not Greek) with a teaspoon (or a little more) of salt, pour it into a cheesecloth-lined sieve set over a bowl, and let it drain overnight. In the morning, you have labneh. Add honey or jam, scoop it up with toasted bread, and you have breakfast. Or wait till noon, drizzle it with olive oil and sumac and call it lunch. More to come on that in a future story, but try it now; it’s delicious — definitely greater than the sum of its simple parts.

But wait — give us some pickles

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention this very simple and quick pickle set-up. The brine — just vinegar, curry powder, turmeric, ground fenugreek, salt and water — makes delicious cauliflower and carrot pickles you can enjoy in a couple hours. They get even better as they sit, and you can also throw in cabbage, green beans, turnips or other veg. Keep one or two jars, give another as a gift.

RECIPE: Turmeric and Fenugreek Quick Pickles

A very minor suggestion

I tested a total of 7 recipes from The Arabesque Table. For the most part, they worked great, and tasted great. Out of those there’s only one I’ll probably not make again, not because I didn’t enjoy it, but because it more labor-intensive than its result warranted. And only one had a significant problem I had to fix in our adaptation (the tahini sauce for the eggplant dip was liquid when directions were followed closely, rather than spreadable).

But I do have a general note: If you purchase the book (and you should if you love these flavors!), be sure to taste the dishes at key points and adjust the seasoning. That’s an instruction that was left of out all the recipes, as far as I can see, and obviously it’s always super important.

Still Wanna Make

So many things! Fire-Roasted Eggplant and Tomato Mutabal. Spiced Kebabs with Preserved Lemon Dill Yogurt. Seafood Stew with Preserved Lemon, Apricots and Olives. Mustard Greens with Labaneh (now that I know how to make lebaneh!). Sujuk — Spicy Cured Sausage. Makmoora — which is a chicken pot pie spun from a 10th-century recipe. Chicken breasts stuffed with pistachios, radish greens and sumac. Lemon Rosemary Semolina Cake.

Thank you, Ms. Kassis, for what promises to be some delicious future adventures.

Quinoa, Pea and Mint Tabbouleh is one of our favorite salads, springtime through the summer

By Leslie Brenner

Every spring, as the sun comes out, the earth warms up, and thoughts of picnics, patios and pool parties pervade, this deliciously optimistic Quinoa, Pea and Mint Tabbouleh finds its way to my table lickety-split.

From Michael Solomonov and Steven Cook’s superb 2015 book Zahav: A World of Israeli Cooking, it’s one of my favorite things to eat all the way through summer’s end.

Easy to make, and from ingredients that are not hard to find (frozen peas!), it’s super-versatile. Serve it as a starter, part of a creative mezze spread, maybe, or a simple spring dinner. Or as a side dish with lamb, chicken or fish —or even as a vegan main course. It travels well and eats great at room temp, so it’s a dreamy dish to bring to a potluck or picnic. I love it on its own for lunch — especially when it’s leftover from the night before — either on its own, or stuffed into a whole-wheat pita pocket.

Because I’m so fond it it, I make sure to keep a bag or two of those petite peas in the freezer and quinoa in the pantry all spring and summer long. That way when I see fresh mint (or my potted one is in a giving mood), I can chop it all together.

Oh, just one thing: If you’re more than one or two people, consider doubling the batch. The few times I made just a single dose, I’ve kicked myself for not making more.

RECIPE: Quinoa, Pea and Mint Tabbouleh

Cooks Without Borders to host Tara Wigley — Ottolenghi and Tamimi's co-author — for a special live video event

Tara Wigley is co-author of ‘Falastin,’ ‘Ottolenghi Simple’ and other cookbooks. / Photo by Jenny Zarins

By Leslie Brenner

If you are a fan of Yotam Ottlenghi and his books (is there anyone who isn’t?), you’ll want to join Cooks Without Borders when we host Tara Wigley for a special Live Video Q & A on Thursday, Feb. 25. The one-hour event will begin at noon CST (10 a.m. PST / 11 a.m. MST / 1 p.m. EST). For participants in Britain, where Wigley lives, it begins at 6 p.m. GMT.

Wigley has collaborated with Ottolenghi since 2010, when she assisted him, working out of his flat in Notting Hill, London, on his cooking column for The Guardian. She has since become an important part of the Ottolenghi family, having worked on many of the cookbooks it has produced, including Plenty More, Nopi and Sweet — and co-authored several with the chef, including Flavor (the most recent) and Ottolenghi Simple — which is probably our favorite of them all.

[Read our review of Ottolenghi Simple.]

Wigley also co-authored, with chef Sami Tamimi (Ottolenghi’s business partner), Falastin — another Cooks Without Borders all-time favorite. You can see her in this video preparing a dish we absolutely adore — Chicken Musakhan — and other Palestinian treats with Tamimi.

[Read our review of Falastin.]

Wigley’s involvement with the Ottolenghi-sphere began when she was just out of Ballymaloe Cookery School in Ireland, having left behind a career in publishing. After a brief stint working at Nopi, she was trying to figure out her life when she got an out-of-the-blue phone call from chef Ottolenghi, who was her “complete hero” — and she thought it was her husband playing a practical joke on her. She tells about it, including how things played out in this wonderful video.

About the Live Q & A with Wigley

Cooks Without Borders Premium Members will have exclusive access to participate in the live event on the 25th, which I’ll be hosting. If you’re not yet a Premium Member, don’t worry — you can try out Premium Membership for one month for free! Or take advantage of our special Charter Annual Membership opportunity.

YES! I’d like a Free Trial Premium Membership. SIGN ME UP!

I have so many questions I’m excited to ask Wigley, and I’m sure you do, too! Hope to see you there.

Live Q & A with Tara Wigley, Thursday, Feb. 25, noon CST (10 a.m. PST, 11 a.m. MST, 1 p.m. EST, 6 p.m. GMT). Sign up from the premium members’ home page.

Pickle-y, spicy giardiniera is the perfect prelude to pasta, pizza and other carb-loaded indulgences

Everyone knows that if you precede something fattening with something purely vegetable, fat-free, gluten-free and crunchy, the fattening thing you eat after that doesn’t count.

Taquería carrots before chicken enchiladas, rice and beans? A zero-calorie equation.

OK, maybe in our dreams.

Still, I’m always looking for something light and refreshing to nibble before an extravagant plate of pappardelle with ragù bolognese, rich and creamy mac-and-cheese or a pizza.

Since I was a kid, I always loved giardiniera — the crunchy, tangy, lightly spicy pickled vegetable condiment that would make cameo appearances in neighborhood Italian restaurants, where small dishes of it would appear on red-and-white checked tableclothes as we waited for our spaghetti and meatballs or pepperoni pizza. That was my favorite way of eating cauliflower back then, and we loved the crunchy corrugated-cut carrots and celery.

In any case, I’ve been on the lookout for jars of good giardiniera at my local Italian grocery lately, and haven’t been delighted by what I’ve found. That’s why I was excited to see a recipe for it in Alex Guarnaschelli’s new book, Cook With Me.

In fact, I’ve now made five recipes from the book, and the giardinera is by far my favorite.

It starts by soaking cut-up vegetables and garlic overnight in salt water, so you need to plan that for the day before you want to start serving it. Then you simmer up a batch of brine — white wine vinegar combined with salt and spices — let it cool slightly and pour it over the soaked-and-drained vegetables.

Vegetables for giardiniera mixed with pickling brine

A couple hours later, you have giardiniera.

Guarnaschelli’s original recipe made about 6 pints, which is great if you either give most of it away or sterilize jars for long-term storage.

I like to keep things simple, so I halved her recipe. No need to sterilize; the recipe makes 3 pint-sized jars of pickled veg. For us, that’s perfect for keeping two and giving one away.

And then I’ll make it again very soon — maybe upping the serrano chile or chile flakes a bit, or adding some pepperoncini and bay leaf to the mix.

Till then, you’ll find me happily crunching away.

RECIPE: Alex Guarnaschelli’s Giardiniera

Fridge-clearing and fabulously flavorful, Sunday Souper Soup will set you up deliciously for the week

When a nation of restaurant-goers turns (almost overnight!) into a society of captive home cooks, the stresses caused by fridge management can be monumental.

Keeping everyone in comfort food is easy: There’s pasta and cheese for that. Rice concoctions galore. Potatoes are a no-brainer in any form. Pizza is a track-pad click away.

Still, you diligently keep the fridge stocked with healthy fresh things: broccoli and kale, carrots and cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, salad greens and herbs.

So that by Sunday, the crisper drawer is stuffed with stuff that’s not so crisp, and you’re left beating yourself up about waste. Meanwhile, what are you going to put on the dinner table in the coming week?

If besides all that stuff you can rustle up a few basic staples, I’ve got great news for you: You can turn those hapless refrigerator victims into a Sunday super-soup that’s so incredibly flavorful that no one would ever suspect you of anything so nefarious as using up tired greens. It’ll solve the coming week’s lunch question and provide a dinner or two — all while saving money and helping you dodge a food-waste bullet.

It gets even better: You can pack the soup with an arsenal of life-affirming, enchantingly aromatic spices and herbs that turn the whole project into an anti-inflammatory, anti-oxidant, flavonoid-rich powerhouse. It is vegan and gluten-free, and therefore sends you into the coming week feeling vital and positive. That gigantic pan of bacon-enriched mac-and-cheese you devoured on Thursday, washed down with three glasses of wine? It is vitamin water under the comfort-food bridge. Today is a new day.

The essential staples you’ll need: onions, carrots and celery (diced together they make what the French call mirepoix); lentils; a can of tomatoes; olive or other oil; salt and pepper. These, plus water, form the base of the soup. And if you follow our master recipe, that’s all you really need for a delicious one. The basic outline is sweat the mirepoix in oil, add lentils, tomatoes, water, salt and pepper, bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer till it’s soup — under an hour.

Our master recipe — which we first wrote about pre-Covid, in a story back in January — explains how to incorporate all those vegetables crying for rescue from the fridge: everything from root vegetables (turnips, parsnips, celery root, beets) to Brassicaceae (broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts and whatnot) to fresh legumes (string beans, peas and such) to leafy greens. The veg can be raw or cooked, so that small dish of roasted cauliflower with Punjabi spices left over from Friday dinner can find a new life in a lush (and zero waste!) soup, and the lonely cupful of sautéed greens from four days ago may gain delicious new purpose.

And you’ll want to spice it up: turmeric, coriander seed and cumin seeds are great places to start; ginger and garlic are your aromatic allies; fresh and dried chiles are always welcome; nigella seeds and flax seeds add nutritional heft; so do mushrooms, dried or fresh. Herbs — fresh and dried — are superb additions.

Again, our January story gives a lot of the health background and zero-waste benefits. Give it a read first if you’re interested in making the soup as powerfully healthful as possible. Otherwise, I invite you to explore the recipe.

And then take a deep dive into that crisper drawer and make soup!

MASTER RECIPE: Sunday Souper Soup

Summer vacation in your backyard: 7 dishes that can make this weekend feel like a delicious Mediterranean getaway

We have heard that there are people who get to go on actual vacations (wow, what a thought!). We see some of them frolicking on sunny beaches; others revel in leisurely strolls up high-altitude meadows dotted with flowers with stunning views in the background. Yes! We know this is true because we see it on Instagram. Unless maybe some of it is fake.

In any case, the rest of us are stuck at home, and so we cook as a form of escape. The thing is, it works pretty well!

Whether or not you have a backyard and the ability to grill, or you’re just relying on your trusty stove, you’ll find something delicious among these 7 treats that can bring a bit of summer vacation to your little piece of permanent paradise this weekend.

1. Grilled Artichokes with Aïoli

Don’t have a grill? They’re great boiled, as well.

2. Classic Gazpacho Sevillano

The most refreshing way to celebrate tomato season. Prefer green gazpacho? We’ve got the Greenest.

3. Grilled Butterflied Leg of Lamb

It’s simple, and it’s fabulous. Throw some vertically halved zucchinis on the grill next to them for a summery accompaniment.

4. French Lentil Salad

Super-easy to put together, this is wonderful warm, room-temp or even a bit chilled.

5. Deviled Duck Legs

These may roast for nearly two hours, but prep time is 10 minutes, max. Payoff is huge.

6. Kafta — Lebanese Lamb Skewers

Serve them on pita with hummus (O.G. or cheater) and a lovely parsley and onion salad.

7. A Showstopper Stone-Fruit Tart with Thyme

To spotlight all that great summer fruit! Want something easier and more casual? You’ll love this peach (or nectarine) and berry crisp.

RECIPE: Grilled Artichokes with Aïoli

RECIPE: Gazpacho Sevillano

RECIPE: Grilled Butterflied Leg of Lamb

RECIPE: French Lentil Salad

RECIPE: Kafta (Lebanese Lamb Skewers)

RECIPE: Deviled Duck Legs

RECIPE: Stone-Fruit Tart with Thyme

Exuberantly delicious and beautifully told, 'Falastin' is one of those life-changing cookbooks

My cookbook shelves are lined with hundreds of earnest volumes filled with culturally faithful recipes for legions of traditional dishes. Usually the recipes work and the dishes are correct, often they’re pretty good, occasionally they’re very good. But rarely, when cooked as written, are they so delicious that they make me want to cry.

Sami Tamimi and Tara Wigley’s Falastin: a Cookbook, which Ten Speed Press published last month, is bursting with recipes from Palastine that do just that.

Because it’s described in the headnote as “the hugely popular national dish of Palestine,” I stuck a Post-It on the page with Chicken Musakhan on my first pass through the book, as a reminder to cook it soon. But it looked so simple, like there was nothing to it — just some cut-up chicken rubbed with spices and roasted, served on flat bread with cooked onions (how great could that be?) — so I kept passing it by.

Until one evening I didn’t.

It was gobsmackingly, soul-stirringly fabulous. The chicken, a whole quartered bird, gets tossed with a lot of cumin and sumac, plus cinnamon, allspice, olive oil, salt and pepper, then roasted. Once out of the oven, it gets layered on crisped pieces of torn flatbread with a lot of long-cooked, sumac-and-cumin-loaded sliced red onions, fried pine nuts, plenty of parsley and spooned over with the roasting juices from the chicken. More olive oil gets drizzled on, and more sumac. It’s a stunning, fragrant centerpiece. Before serving it, you pull apart the chicken pieces with your fingers into two or three piece each. Put it in the middle of the table, and have everyone dive in, pulling the chicken apart with fingers, grabbing some soaky, juicy, crispy bread and sumac-ky onions, and groaning with pleasure, and diving back in.

When can we have this again??!!

I went back and reread the headnote. The dish was traditionally made during olive-oil pressing season to celebrate the freshly-pressed oil, but now it’s enjoyed year-round. “Growing up, Sami ate it once a week,” goes the headnote. “It’s a dish to eat with your hands and with your friends, served from one pot or plate, for everyone to then tear at some of the bread and spoon on the chicken and topping for themselves.”

Traditionally, taboon bread is used in the dish. Baked on pebbles in a conical oven, the bread has a pock-marked surface that are great for catching the juices. But the recipe calls for any Arabic flatbread (we used pita from a local Lebanese bakery that I’d stashed in the freezer), or naan.

I can see why Tamimi’s mom, Na’ama, made it once a week: It’s fun and easy to make, probably no more than an hour from start to finish, and a great crowd-pleaser. I’ll be buying sumac futures this week: A full three tablespoons of the spice (a powerful anti-oxidant) go into the dish.

If you’re not familiar with Tamimi, some context may be helpful. Chances are you do know of Yotam Ottolenghi and his cookbooks. Tamimi is head chef for and a founding partner in Ottolenghi’s namesake London restaurant empire. He co-authored Ottolenghi’s first cookbook (Ottolenghi: the Cookbook, 2008). Together the two — led by Ottolenghi — created a style of produce-forward, Levant-accented, slouchy-chic improvisational cooking. In other words, what they did powerfully influenced the way so many of us cook now, and the way food looks on blogs and on Instagram — seductively dissheveled, vegetable happy and casually strewn with tons of herbs.

The two chefs went on to co-author Jerusalem: a Cookbook (2012). Both had grown up in Jerusalem in the 70s and 80s — Ottolenghi, who is Israeli and Italian, in the Jewish west part of the city and Tamimi, who is Palestinian, in the Muslim east. They didn’t know each other back home; they met in London, where they were both living in the 1990s. To the Jerusalem project, each brought his delicious perspective, and they wove together a gorgeous, deep, inspired, cookable portrait of their hometown. The book didn’t shy away from politics, but its explorations managed to unify rather than divide.

With Falastin, Tamimi explores the cooking of his beloved Palestine. “There is no letter ‘P’ in the Arabic language,” begins the introduction, so ‘Falastin’ is, on the one hand, simply the way ‘Falastinians’ refer to themselves.’”

Of course there is an “on the other hand” — and that’s the substance of the book, which Tamimi co-authored with Tara Wigley, a cook and writer who also co-authored Ottolenghi’s most recent book, Ottolengi Simple, and who is an integral part of the Ottolenghi family.

Cilantro-crusted roasted cod with tahini sauce

Beautifully photographed by Jenny Zarins, it’s a wonderful read that conveys so much about the culture that you might feel you’ve been there, and fallen in love with its people. A visit to the apartment-house kitchen of the “yogurt-making ladies of Bethlehem” gives richness to a recipe for balls of labneh (thickened yogurt) marinated in olive oil then rolled in dried herbs or spices. A trip to the Jerusalem shop where Kamel Hashlamon produces tahini that’s “somewhere between a paste and a liquid and truly good enough to drink” makes us understand what separates great tahini from all the bitter crap we get stateside (Humera sesame seeds from Ethiopia, bespoke millstone made by a master Syrian stonemason, cold-pressing at 140 degrees).

The authors, refusing to tip-toe around the politics, address head-on the difficult questions that arise as they tour us around. For instance, it becomes clear that because Kamel sells to a largely Israeli (but also Palestinian) market, some feel he has “sold out.” When Kamel justifies his position by saying “We are all living in the result of the game,” Tamimi doesn’t let him off easy. In the end, though, the last image of his “small stunning shop,” with its irresistible product, is of Israelis and Palestinians standing “side by side at the counter, looking through the glass, debating little more than which halva to buy.” Complicated, uneasy, but what what a privilege it is to be let in on it in a cookbook.

From a culinary point of view, Falastin is also a rare gift: a cookbook filled with exuberantly delicious recipes, each with the special flair of a super-gifted chef, but without the ridiculous, long lists of obscure ingredients and sub-recipes that you needed to start preparing three days ago. These are approachable, thoughtfully crafted and apparently carefully tested recipes that are easy to follow, simple enough to execute and clearly designed to work for a moderately capable home cook.

If the aesthetic driver of the Ottolenghi books is herbs, with Falastin it is spices — lots of spices, aromatic, dreamy and unapologetic. Flavors in all the dishes are dialed way up. (One touch I really appreciate: Tamimi and Wigley never leave us guessing about how much salt to use — they always specify, and it’s always right on or close.)

Back to my bookshelves and all those earnest volumes. Among all the serious Middle Eastern, Levantine, Mediterranean and North African cookbooks, I hadn’t been able to find an appealing recipe for ful medames — the traditional fava bean dish that’s mostly closely associated with Egypt. There were recipes, sure, but none found any joy in the dish — which is, after all, really just doctored canned fava beans.

Tamimi has a wonderful way of elevating the ordinary. His version of ful starts by ridding the beans of their canned taste — by draining, rinsing, then simmering them in water, a five minute process that makes all the difference. Once they’re drained again, cumin is invited to the party, along with the lemon, garlic and chile. A delightful salad of red onion, sumac and parsley goes on top, along with tomato; avocado adds cool and creamy depth. Soft boiled egg, which is optional, adds another dimension.

Finally, the ful medames I dreamed of — so good I will make sure to keep canned favas stocked, so I can whip it up on a regular basis. (This is what I mean by life-changing.)

Not surprisingly, there’s a little overlap with the dishes in Jerusalem: It would be odd for this book not to include hummus, for instance, or tahini sauce. But the books complement each other really well: While Jerusalem gave us Maqluba, a one-pot layered dish of eggplant, chicken thighs and rice inverted onto a plate to serve, Falastin gives us Maqlubet el Foul el Akdhar — Upside-Down Spiced Rice with Lamb and Fava Beans. (Will be making that soon as I can source some Iranian dried limes!)

And while Jerusalem proposes Kofta B’siniya (seared lamb-and-beef patties in tahini sauce), Falastin offers Kofta Bil Batinjan — Baked Kofta with Eggplant and Tomato. Another major crowd-pleaser!

Kofta Bil Batinjan — Baked Kofta with Eggplant and Tomato

For the three of us, this was a fabulous dinner two nights running — the leftovers were every bit as delectable.

There are so many recipes I still have marked to try. Preserved Stuffed Eggplants; Cauliflower and Cumin Fritters with Mint Yogurt; Shatta (an exciting looking red or green chile sauce); Na’ama’s Buttermilk Fattoush; Roasted Eggplant with Tamarind and Cilantro; a zucchini, garlic and yogurt dip called M’tawaneh; Buttery Rice with Toasted Vermicelli; Eggplant, Chickpea and Tomato Bake (Musaq’a); Pomegranate-Cooked Lentils and Eggplants; Lemon Chicken with Za’atar.

There are baked treats that look incredible, too: Sweet Tahini Rolls, and the triangular spinach pies called Fatayer Sabanekh; Warbat — filo triangles filled with cream cheese and pistachio and doused in rose syrup, and definitely a Chocolate and Qahwa Flour-Free Torte, flavored with lots of cardamom and espresso (Qahwa is coffee in Arabic).

I love this book. I’m happy to think of its treasure-filled pages, and it gives me hope for the future — in more ways than one.

RECIPE: Chicken Musakhan

RECIPE: Cilantro-Crusted Roasted Cod

RECIPE: Ful Medames

RECIPE: Baked Kofta with Eggplant and Tomato

Falastin: a Cookbook, by Sami Tamimi and Tara Wigley, Ten Speed Press, $35.

Cool as a cuke: Four cucumber-happy salads to refresh you through a hot and heavy summer

Blimey, we all need a chill pill! In the absence of an effective one, we’ve been turning to the coolest of vegetables, the cucumber.

The Oxford Companion to Food tells us that the cucumber is “one of the oldest cultivated vegetables,” that it has been grown for some 4,000 years, that it may have originated in South India and that Christopher Columbus introduced it to Haiti in 1494. Jessica B. Harris points out, however, in The Africa Cookbook, that the some scholars feel that the cucumber may have come from Central Africa.

But wait — isn’t “one of the oldest cultivated vegetables” technically a fruit?

“It is a fruit,” says my friend Tim Simmonds, a Dallas botanist — and so are squashes, both summer and winter, including pumpkins. “Same big happy family.”

The curcurbit family, that is: the vine-y plant group that also includes watermelons, chayotes, gourds, cassabananas (a.k.a. melocotón) and the kiwano (a.k.a. African horned cucumber or jelly melon).

Given the cucumber’s origin story, it’s not surprising that it is popular in India — especially in the form of raita.

The cooling cucumber salad accompanies just about any kind of Indian meal, of course. But I’ve been known to enjoy a bowl of it on its own for a soothing lunch (particularly in a pandemic!).

Ours features grated cucumber, toasted cumin and a touch of lemon juice.

A Cucumber Sunomono was literally the first recipe we test-drove for our recent review of Sonoko Sakai’s Japanese Home Cooking, since the cucumber salad is a frequent starter of Japanese meals. This one, which weaves wakame seaweed in with the cukes, sports a jaunty grated-ginger garnish. We fell in love, not surprisingly. Maybe you will, too (let us know in a comment!).

Cucumbers also make appearances in Sakai’s recipe for Potato Salada and Dallas chef Justin Holt’s Salaryman Potato Salad.

But we’re not counting those in our four, so wait, there’s more!

This pretty Cucumber, Radish and Feta Salad came together as we riffed on a Levantine dish called khiar bel na’na, starring thin-sliced cukes, dried mint and orange-blossom water. We added radishes, scallions, feta and fresh mint (which layers beautifully with the dried). Lately it has become a house favorite.

And finally, this Scandanavian Cucumber-Dill Salad — which is wonderful with poached salmon, Cold Poached Arctic Char or even Swedish meatballs.

A happy development, at least in my neck of the woods, is that organic Persian cucumbers have become more readily available, even during the pandemic. They have lovely texture (as long as they’re nice and fresh), they’re less watery than English cukes but more flavorful than most hothouse cukes, and they don’t require peeling — a win win win. Though sizes for all kinds vary, generally speaking you can figure two Persian cucumbers for one medium English cucumber, or three for a large English cuke.

As you’ll see from the above recipes, many cultures salt cucumbers and let them sit to draw out the water and ensure great texture; sometimes gentle squeezing is called for as well. Hope you enjoy these refreshing treats.

Stay cool. Think cuke. Wear a mask. Stay healthy.

[RECIPE: Cucumber Raita]

[RECIPE: Cucumber Sunomono]

[RECIPE: Cucumber, Radish & Feta Salad]

[RECIPE: Cucumber-Dill Salad]

This refreshingly minty Levantine-style salad is missing a key ingredient — that's why we call it 'fattoush-ish'

What — no toasted pita?! That’s why we call this minty, sumac-y salad ‘fattoush-ish.’

Fans of fattoush — the bread and herb salad that’s popular through the Levant year-round — are divided about how toasted pita, a key ingredient, should play in the bowl. Traditionalists like the pita soaked in the salad’s lemon, olive oil and sumac dressing so it’s soft, like the soaky bread in a traditional Tuscan bread salad. Modernists add shards of well-toasted pita at the last second, for a crisp crunch.

Traditionally eaten at iftar, the evening meal that breaks the fast during every night during Ramadan, fattoush is delightfully light and refreshing. It’s a salad to riff on. Some cooks insist it must include purslane, the tangy salad herb that grows like a weed in the Mediterranean. (Stateside, you can often find purslane in Middle-Eastern or Mexican groceries.) Some versions of fattoush include green bell pepper; others don’t. Occasionally you see radishes. You can use scallions or onions, cherry tomatoes or regular ones, romaine or arugula, or both. Some versions go light on sumac, a bright-flavored, lemony spice; others play it up big. (Our recipe takes the middle sumac path.)

If you’re not already familiar with fattoush, it’s a great time to get to know it. Once you’re in possession of a jar of dried sumac and some dried mint (we favor spearmint), you might even be able to pull it together with ingredients on hand.

Craving fattoush’s minty, sumac-y, scallion-y flavors, I had everything but pita. (One of the challenges of The Great Confinement is not having all the ingredients required for culturally correct renditions of dishes.) I went ahead with the fattoush program anyway — and way glad I did.

Leave out the pita bread, as our recipe does, and suddenly you’ve got a delightful salad that satisfies anyone avoiding carbs: It’s gluten-free and paleo-friendly. It’s also just the thing to counterbalance all that heavy comfort food many of us find ourselves indulging in more often than usual. (Start dinner with fattoush-ish, and that giant plate of lasagna doesn’t count!)

Or go ahead and add some pita: One piece, split in half and each saucer-shape crisply toasted, makes it legit. Break the two toasted sides into bite-sized pieces before adding to the salad. Traditionalists, please double the dressing and toss the pita shards in half of it a few minutes before you’ll serve the salad. Modernists, add the shards at the very last minute.

Here’s the recipe:

RECIPE: Fattoush-ish

Hope you enjoy it as much as we do.

Celebrate Easter, Passover (or spring in general!) with butterflied leg of lamb on the grill

It’s kind of strange that I find myself with these ingredients during such trying circumstances, but a well priced on-line special on semi-boneless leg of lamb and another on organic asparagus presented itself when I was scrambling to find groceries yesterday. Somehow, a delivery spot opened up — not always easy. An Easter/Passover miracle!

Maybe it’s by design on the part of the grocer: holiday foods on holiday special. If that’s the case, maybe it has happened to you as well. Or maybe later this spring you’ll find yourself in possession of a leg of lamb. If so, here’s what I’m thinking: Dust off the Weber (or whatever your grilling set-up; our base-model Original Kettle is already set up on our tiny patch of townhouse patio).

Since we’re outside so much less these days, and it suddenly turned into a gorgeous day in Dallas, grilling our non-or-every-denominational holiday dinner feels like just the thing to do.

A simple marinade of red wine vinegar, garlic, cilantro, mint and olive oil goes on the lamb two hours (or more) before you grill it. If you don’t have those particular herbs, but you have some thyme or rosemary — even dried — that’ll work just as well.

Because you open up the butterflied leg rather than tying it, there’s more surface area for grilling and a shorter grilling time. Depending on how hot your coals are and the size of your lamb leg, it should take between 12 and 22 minutes.

If you’re doing asparagus as well, just toss that in a little olive oil, salt and pepper, and put it on the grill when you flip the lamb.

Here’s the recipe:

Happy spring, happy holiday. Hopefully happier days are ahead!

Got romaine leaves? Turn them into tabbouleh- or tuna-cannellini salad-filled dream boats

It was a classic cooking-in-place moment: As I scrounged around in the fridge, even more mindful than usual of eating or cooking with every last veg before it wilted, I found a bag of romaine hearts that wasn’t nearly full enough to make a salad for the three of us.

The tender leaves still looked lovely, though — why not use them to scoop up something delicious?

More scrounging, and I found half a bunch of mint, two stray scallions and the better part of a bunch of Italian parsley: all things I didn’t have plans for in the next 48 hours and should be used. Got it — tabbouleh!

I knew I had bulgur (I do keep a well-stocked pantry) and a lemon, but there was just one hitch: no tomato. I did have some grape tomatoes, though — not the most flavorful things in the world, but the rest of the tabbouleh ingredients could lift them up.

Especially as I’d been playing with Annisa Helou’s tabbouleh recipe in her gorgeous, award-winning cookbook Feast: Food of the Islamic World. Her tabblouleh gets glorious depth from a Lebanese 7-Spice Mixture (sabe bharat) and cinnamon. (Don’t fret if you can’t manage the 7-Spice: Helou offers ground allspice as a sub.) If you do want to make the 7-Spice Mixture, here’s the recipe, which will fill your life with beguiling aromas, so it’s worth making just for that.

Into a salad bowl went chopped parsley, mint and those grape tomatoes (which I diced smaller than I would have an actual tomato), a little bulgur soaked briefly in boiling water and well drained, the spices, the juice of a lemon, a glug of good olive oil, salt and freshly ground black pepper. Tossed well, and onto a platter with those tender romaine leaves: voilà our excellent lunch on the fly!

After that I was thinking: This probably wouldn’t be the last time, during The Great Confinement, that we’d be faced with stray romaine leaves. Normally I’d tear them up and add them to other lettuces for a green salad, but salad greens these days aren’t necessarily a given. What else could romaine leaves be filled with?

Bingo: tuna and cannellini salad, which happens to be one of my pantry cooking favorites.

Here’s the recipe, which calls for either a can of cannellinis or dried cannellinis:

Stay safe, healthy and well fed, everyone.

RECIPE: Lebanese 7-Spice Mixture

RECIPE: Classic Tabbouleh

RECIPE: Tuna and Cannellini Bean Salad

Baba ganoush fever: How can burnt eggplant become a dip that’s so friggin’ brilliant and addictive?

Five years ago, an 800-year old chickpea dip suddenly became a global obsession. Now, something tells us that baba ganoush — the smoky, lemony eggplant dip that’s a mezze-table favorite all over the Levant and beyond — may be about to steal the spotlight from its foodie-star brother.

Baba ganoush’s charms can be elusive to those of us who dwell in the Americas. Unless we have Levantine roots, we may not have been exposed much (if at all) to exemplary baba — or muttabal, as it’s called in Syria. The stuff you find in supermarkets, if you do manage to find one baba ganoush among the grillions of plastic hummus tubs that have taken over the refrigerated case, tends to be pale-flavored and forgettable. Meanwhile, I’ve read recipes that suggest adding Liquid Smoke. Liquid Smoke!

I knew that the babas that turned my head over a lifetime of eating in Lebanese restaurants were the unabashedly smoky ones. But somehow, I never wondered how they got their smoke. Or what gave the best ones their wonderful creamy texture. Or how much tahini, lemon or garlic would make a baba ganoush sing.

Somewhere in the back of my semitic mind I understood that the dish was related to the eggplant “caviar” my Jewish grandma used to make. (She roasted eggplants, cutting them in half first, but never long enough to get them smoky, and there was no tahini involved after that.)

Happily — life-changingly, perhaps — it’s easy to make a brilliant one, especially if you have access to an old-fashioned charcoal grill like a Weber. You can also make a pretty outstanding one using your kitchen broiler. In case you want to cut to the chase and achieve immediate baba bliss, here’s the recipe:

The technique is simple: Poke holes all over whole eggplants, then roast them, either under your broiler or directly on coals on the Weber, turning them once, until they’re completely charred and seem to collapse.

Eggplants roasting directly atop live coals in a Weber grill

Cut them in half, scoop out the flesh — which will have taken on wonderful smokiness — place in a sieve and mash the flesh over a bowl to get rid of its bitter liquid and achieve a lovely soft texture. Separately, whisk together tahini and lemon juice till fluffy, then add the mashed eggplant, crushed garlic and salt. Spread the dip on a serving plate, drizzle on some good olive oil and scatter with chopped parsley, and you have baba ganoush heaven. Really, it’s that easy.

And it’s a fun dish to make. It’s fun charring the eggplants on the grill, and delightful when you whisk the tahini and lemon to fluffiness. It’s even fun to pull the flesh out of the charred skins with your fingers.

Once roasted, the flesh inside is meltingly tender.

More on technical details in a moment, but first a word about baba ganoush’s history.

Curiously, I was unable to turn up much background about the dip, especially anything definitive. There’s no entry for baba ganoush (or baba ganouj, or baba ghanoush, or baba ghannuge, its alternate spellings) in The Oxford Companion to Food, or in The Encyclopedia of Food and Culture that takes up probably way too much real estate in my cookbook case. Unlike the Wikipedia page for hummus, which boasts two fulsome paragraphs about origin and history and nearly 700 words about regional preparations, Wikipedia’s baba ganoush wisdom is weirdly scant, pretty much limited to a stab at its etymology. (Baba, everyone agrees, is Arabic for “father” or “daddy,” and the Oxford English Dictionary suggests that Ghannuj is “perhaps a personal name.”)

The most intriguing tidbit I turned up came from my brilliant former colleague at The Los Angeles Times (now retired from the paper), Charles Perry, who wrote in a 1997 story about eggplant and its history that “The ancestor of today's baba ghanouj was flavored with ground walnuts instead of tahini.” Beyond that, we have only found speculation about the dish’s history. (If you are an expert, please weigh in with a comment! I am attempting to contact Charlie, who published Scents & Flavors: A Syrian Cookbook in 2017 — which I just ordered — and who I’m pretty sure possesses more intelligence on the subject; will update if successful.)

I found recipes for baba ganoush in some of my favorite cookbooks — including Claudia Roden’s The New Book of Middle Eastern Food and Arabesque and Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi’s Jerusalem, and Annisa Helou’s splendid Feast: Food of the Islamic World, which won a James Beard Award in 2019. Online, J. Kenji López-Alt offers his serious take on Serious Eats; The Washington Post’s Smoke Signals columnist Jim Shahin wrote about it and gave a smoky recipe in 2018.

There are lots of recipes out there that include yogurt — which is also wonderful, but not the classic, and many recipes that simply roast the eggplant but stop well before optimum smokiness has been achieved.

Other recipes that I found to be almost perfect have some tiny little detail I felt could be improved. For instance, Serious Eats’ López-Alt calls for not pricking the eggplants, so they’ll cook more quickly and peel more easily, but he also points out unpricked eggplants will explode in your oven (yikes!). In addition, he calls for spinning the flesh in a salad spinner as a way of quickly getting rid of the bitter moisture in them after roasting, which I find cumbersome and messy. I much prefer Roden’s quick and easy solution: mashing the flesh with a fork in a strainer over a bowl; this is much faster than the slow-drain many other recipes call for, and adds no extra work as the flesh needs mashing in any case. (And not puréeing in a food processor, as some recipes recommend — you want to retain some lovely texture and not make it too smooth.)

Chasing optimal smokiness, perfect balance and the creamiest texture has kept me experimenting with recipes for a couple months in order to come up with the best method and proportions. I found that whisking the tahini with lemon juice, as in customary in some of my favorite hummus recipes, results in a baba with superior creaminess. (That idea came from a recipe in Arabesque for the variation of baba ganoush that includes yogurt.)

Yesterday, we finally put it all together — the proportions I favor, and the whisking, which left just one question to answer: Which is better, roasting the eggplant over live coals or under the kitchen broiler? And if one was better, how much better?

We put the two cooking methods to the test, by making two otherwise identical versions of baba ganoush, one using eggplant roasted on live coals (on a chilly Saturday afternoon in February!) and the other in the broiler.

Once they were ready, I spread them on their respective serving plates. Here’s how they looked before garnishing:

Baba ganoush prepared over live coals (left) and baba ganoush prepared in the broiler

The photo probably doesn’t do justice to the visual difference, but the one done over live coals looked more emulsified and somewhat deeper in color. You could tell in whisking them, the live coals version was a bit silkier; though the eggplants seemed to be cooked about as much as the ones in the broiler, the ones done in the Weber were meltier.

In terms of taste and mouthfeel, the difference was starker: The one done on the coals had much smokier flavor, and more depth. I had Thierry and Wylie blind-taste them: The one done on the coals was the clear and immediate winner.

However, they (and we) loved them both: The broiler version was absolutely delicious as well, if a bit subtler. I thought of stirring in some ground cumin, a flourish that seems popular in the version of the dish that comes from Persia. You might consider using a slightly heavier hand with garlic if you go the broiler route, or upping the tahini a wee bit. This is a great dip to play with, to tweak it until it is exactly as you like it — or just cook kind of free-form, adding tahini, lemon juice and garlic by feel rather than measuring.

Another traditional flourish is pomegranate seeds — and once autumn rolls around, the baba ganoush will certainly flow freely at my place, topped with ruby-red beauties.

Until then, I’m loving the essentialist version, and we hope you will too.

RECIPE: Baba Ganoush

Bastille Day cooking made easy: How to conjure a rustic, fabulous French summer feast

This year's Bastille Day feast starts with make-ahead smoked trout pâté, served with crackers and endive leaves.

Because I'm almost French (I've been married to a Frenchman for almost 22 years; one of these days I'll get around to applying for French citizenship), I love to celebrate Bastille Day. Going to a restaurant isn't usually what I feel like doing, partly because there aren't many good French restaurants in Dallas, where we live.

Referred to in France as le Quatorze Juillet, or la Fête Nationale, or la Fêt' Nat – never Bastille Day – the holiday rarely falls on a weekend, which creates a quandary: How to pull together something deliciously French after working all day?

This year, I think I found the answer: Make it rustic and easy, prepare a couple things the night before, invite friends over after work and light up the grill. 

Mikie's marinated olives can be made the night before.

Laid-back apps – like marinated olives, asparagus vinaigrette, a freeform savory tart, maybe a saucisson or some store-bought pâté with baguette toasts – are totally festive with glasses of rosé, chilled Lillet garnished with orange slices, or (my favorite!) Ricard. 

Or hey – why not pour a pet nat, since it rhymes with Fêt' Nat! What's a pet nat? It's short for pétillant naturel – the natural sparkling wines, often from France, that are hugely popular in wine circles these days. (If you're new to the natural wine phenom, here's an excellent article, co-authored by my friend Michalene, explaining it.) 

Flipping through award-winning cookbook author Georgeanne Brennan's beautiful new book, La Vie Rustic: Cooking & Living in the French Style, I found plenty of delicious-looking inspiration, starting with her super-easy recipe for smoked trout pâté. 

Honestly, it couldn't be easier: You just mash together smoked trout with crème fraîche, lemon zest, chopped tarragon and one or two other things, pack it in a crock and that's it. While you can make it just before serving (in no time flat), it's the perfect thing to mix up the previous evening and let chill in the fridge. Serve it with Belgian endive leaves and crackers or toasts. Brennan writes in her book that it also works well with smoked salmon – something I'll be trying soon (with dill or fennel leaves, probably!). 

Also inspired by Brennan's book, I've lately become addicted to grilled artichokes. But while Brennan serves them with a yogurt-and-mayo-based herb dip (which also looks really good), I've been pairing mine with garlicky aïoli, one of my favorite substances in the world. This summer I can't get enough of it.

The artichokes can be mostly prepared the night before, as well – boil them, trim out their chokes, stash them in the fridge and make the aïoli (which probably even gets better as it sits overnight; the garlic mellows). When you're ready to serve them, just brush the artichoke halves with a little olive oil and plop them on the grill – along with halved lemons as a squeezable garnish, if you like.

For a main course, you can keep it super simple: Throw some duck breasts or a butterflied leg of lamb on the grill. You can even pick up a roast chicken (very French!) or two at the supermarket; serve it with Dijon mustard and cornichons, and French side dishes. You can blanch some haricots verts, for instance, and toss them with a little red wine vinegar, your best olive oil and some minced shallots; finish with fleur de sel and lots of freshly ground black pepper. 

Or make a warm French lentil salad – which you can either toss together in less than a half hour and serve warm, or prepare the night before and serve room temp.

Here's the easy, forgiving recipe:

Or, you know what? You can even do without a main course altogether, and just serve a bunch of delicious nibbles – French wine-bar-style. 

For dessert, there are lots of possibilities. One of the easiest is also one of the most delicious: a berry and peach crisp. Put the almond topping together the night before, and it's very quick to put together and throw in the oven. Top it with whipped cream, or crème fraîche (you should have some left over from the smoked trout pâté), or a combo. Or serve it with vanilla ice cream. 

Otherwise, if you make pastry cream the night before, you can put together a quick and easy berry tart – with the colors of the French flag!

Here are those two recipes:

Alternatively, you could make a chocolate mousse or pôt de crème the night before (yikes - I need to create some chocolate French recipes for the site – will do that soon!) Or play hooky from work and make a gorgeous stone-fruit tart. Or make profiterôles – cream puffs filled with ice cream and drizzled with chocolate sauce. That's another easy recipe I'll put together soon.

You could also do what so many French people do – pick up something lovely at the bakery.

Or take a tip from my French relatives, and slice up a ripe peach into the glass of red wine you've been sipping. It can't get any easier – or more delicious – than that.

So, want more ideas? Take a spin through Cooks Without Borders' French page – updated recently with a bunch of new recipes. Sound good?

Happy Bastille Day! Vive la France!