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Tender spring vegetables dress up the delightful masa triangles known as tetelas

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By Leslie Brenner

Are you familar with the Mexican masa shape known as a tetela? It’s a triangular masa pocket filled with beans and/or cheese, and sometimes other ingredients. A popular treat in Oaxaca, tetelas have been showing up in Norteamericano restaurants and on cooking sites in recent years.

READ: “How to make tetelas — the tasty, triangular treats from Oaxaca that are about to become super-trendy”

Our friend (and Cooks Without Borders’ Mexican cuisine expert) Olivia Lopez offered us a dreamy tetela recipe for spring a while back, and now seems like the perfect moment to spotlight it — as the markets are filled with asparagus, fresh favas, spring onions and peas. I even picked up some green garbanzos last week at my favorite local Lebanese grocery.

Olivia’s recipe is in the seasonal-produce-forward, masa-centric style she features at her Dallas-based Molino Oloyo, and it’s a terrific recipe to create at home. Basically, bean-filled tetelas are topped with a quick sauté of those beautiful spring vegetables, then finished with dabs of requesón — fresh cheese you can find in Mexican markets; ricotta makes a fine substitute. Finish it with drizzles of salsa macha.

To make the tetelas, you’ll need first to simmer up a pot of bayo or mayocoba beans, and then fashion those into quick, vegan refried beans. You’ll also need to get your hands on some heirloom masa harina, if you don’t already have some. (We use Masienda’s masa harina, available through its website, and at many Whole Foods Markets. You can also buy it at Amazon.) Do you have a tortilla press? You’ll need that, too.

New to the world of heirloom maíz and masa harina? CHECK OUT: The Masa Movement Project

Try a simpler tetela RECIPE: Tetelas with Beans, Cheese and Salsa Verde

Because the tetelas can be held in a warm oven and the vegetables can be prepped (and salsa macha made) ahead of time, this is a lovely dish to make for a Mother’s Day brunch or other gathering — just throw the veg in the sauté pan right before serving.

Here’s the recipe:

RECIPE: Olivia Lopez’s Tetelas with Spring Vegetables

Meanwhile, if you happen live in North Texas, or you’ll be visiting Dallas later this month, you can taste Olivia’s extraordinary food: Molino Oloyo will hold one of its locally famous pop-ups from Tuesday, April 30 through Sunday, el Cinco del Mayo. Hopefully, I’ll see you there — I’ll be enjoying Olivia’s incomparable offerings at least one of the evenings, maybe more.

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

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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.)

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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World Central Kitchen fundraiser: Buy our $5 e-cookbook, and we'll donate all proceeds to José Andrés’ nonprofit

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By Leslie Brenner

There’s probably no person in the food world today who’s more important than José Andrés. Sure, his restaurants are wonderful and have had wide influence. But that’s not why. Andrés is a superhero for his work with his nonprofit, World Central Kitchen.

And so are those who regularly put themselves in harm’s way, working alongside Andrés in hotspots around the world, wherever violent conflict or natural disasters create situations where people need food. On Monday, these philanthropic activities proved fatal to seven aid workers for the organization, people who were risking their lives to deliver desperately needed food for people in Gaza.

In an opinion piece in today’s New York Times, here’s how Andrés himself put it:

“Their work was based on the simple belief that food is a universal human right. It is not conditional on being good or bad, rich or poor, left or right. We do not ask what religion you belong to. We just ask how many meals you need.”

As you know if you’ve been reading Cooks Without Borders for any length of time, we’ve long supported WCK with frequent fundraisers. Since our first one two years ago — our Cook for Ukraine Pop-Up — Cooks Without Borders has helped raised more than $10,000 for WCK. I was about to publish a review of Andrés’ new cookbook, Zaytinya. But instead, following Monday’s tragedy, it’s time first for another fundraiser.

To participate, purchase our e-cookbook, 21 Favorite Recipes from Cooks Without Borders. Normally $7, the book is on sale for just $5 per copy; we’ll donate every penny we collect* to WCK. Not as exciting as Zaytinya, maybe, but our heart’s in the right place! And the Zaytinya review will be up next.

About World Central Kitchen

Chef Andrés founded World Central Kitchen based on the idea that “when people are hungry, send in cooks. Not tomorrow, today.” The nonprofit organization makes sure there is always a warm meal, an encouraging word, and a helping hand in hard times. 

When disaster strikes, WCK’s Chef Relief Team mobilizes to the front lines with the urgency of now to start cooking and provide meals to people in need. WCK’s resilience work advances human and environmental health, offers access to professional culinary training, creates jobs, and improves food security for the people it serves.

WCK has provided hundreds of millions of fresh, nourishing meals for communities around the world. Your donation today will be used to support its emergency food relief efforts and resilience programs.

Want to do more?

We have set up a fundraising page through World Central Kitchen. Please join me there in making a separate contribution in any amount to help us reach our modest goal of raising $1,000 by the end of November. I’ve kicked off the campaign with my own donation. (Once our e-cookbook purchases start rolling in, I’ll contribute the proceeds through that page, so you’ll be able to see the progress on that front as well.)

Thank you so much for joining me in supporting WCK! Please pass on this pop-up invitation to friends who will want to help feed people in strife around the world.

*45 cents of each e-book purchase will be retained by Stripe for processing. We will donate the full $4.55 we collect on each purchase to WCK.

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Spring feast, French-style: Leg of lamb with flageolet beans

By Leslie Brenner

Ever wonder how the French mark Easter at the table? Traditionally, it’s with something fabulous starring lamb, such as gigot d’agneau flageolets — roasted leg of lamb with flageolet beans.

It’s an impressive presentation that will earn you oohs and aahs — slices of rosy, boneless lamb set atop saucy flageolet beans that are tender, and creamy inside. Pronounced “flah-zho-lay,” they are known as the “caviar” of beans; in France, they’re lamb’s frequent companion.

Gigot d’agneau flageolets is actually pretty easy to prepare, requiring more time than effort (the dried beans need to simmer). The lamb is a boneless leg that you unroll, rub with a paste of herbs, garlic and a little anchovy, roll back up and tie, let sit so the flavors and salt penetrate the meat, then brown on top of the stove and roast in its sauté pan. While the roasted lamb rests, make a quick, lamby pan-sauce that you’ll stir into the beans.

The last-minute act of slicing and plating the whole thing is pretty laid-back (since there’s no bone to contend with), so it’s great for entertaining. And gloriously delicious.

More about flageolets, and how to sub

Pale green when they’re dried, and about the size and shape of a kidney bean, those flageolets are one of my favorite beans — almost elegant, with a beautiful texture. Soak them for four to six hours and they cook up fairly quickly — last time I made them, it was about 90 minutes to tenderness. But you don’t even need to soak them; you can just simmer them a little longer and they still wonderful. If you don’t find them in your local fancy grocery, you can order them from Rancho Gordo.

But you can still approximate this dish even if you don’t have flageolets; navy beans or cannellinis, while not quite as elegant, make a good stand-in. And if you don’t have time to simmer dried beans? You could even used canned cannellinis or navy beans. Just drain three cans of them and use them in place of the cooked flageolets in step 7 of our recipe. In place of the reserved cooking liquid, use some purchased chicken broth or vegetable broth.

Just the lamb, please

Or maybe you’re just not a bean person, but you want to make the lamb. Go ahead and follow the lamb part of our recipe. When you get to the part where you deglaze the pan to make a quick pan sauce, use that to drizzle over the sliced lamb, or pass it at the table for everyone to sauce their own. You can serve the lamb with roasted potatoes and asparagus.

Easter, Passover, any spring celebration

With or without the flageolets, the dish is great for any spring celebration or special dinner — including Passover. (For that holiday, if you serve the lamb with asparagus, as suggested above, you’ll want to leave off the butter, if you you want to keep it kosher for Passover, of course.)

And if you’re only two or three at table, it’s still very much worth doing: You’ll wind up with some pretty spectacular leftovers. Lamb sandwich, anyone?

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Can’t wait for spring? Head to the freezer! Open a jar! Favas, peas and artichokes know how to act fresh

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

By Leslie Brenner

Asparagus! Favas! Peas! Artichokes!

Excuse the over-the-top enthusiasm, but you know how it is when you’re a cook — a murmur of spring in the air, and your mind goes straight to the vegetable garden.

By the time March blows in (or even before), asparagus arrives from Mexico and California, and sugar snap peas, usually ubiquitous, do a great job of evoking a springlike mood.

But until we’re in full-on spring (which officially begins in the Northern Hemisphere this year on March 20), and fresh English peas, favas and artichokes fill the market bins, feel free to accept an assist from the freezer section or even a can. We won’t tell. In fact we’ve been known to keep cheating from time to time with frozen peas and canned artichoke hearts all season (and even all year) long.

A medley that evokes spring

Assemble the whole cast — peas, favas, asparagus and artichokes — and you can make the fantastic spring veg medley shown above. Adapted from Claudia Roden’s The Food of Spain, it’s based on a traditional menestra de primavera — a spring vegetable soup — but Roden’s spin is more like a soupy side-dish. Or read on for ideas for dishes featuring solo frozen peas, artichoke hearts or favas.

We often find favas — even out of season — in our local Middle-Eastern market. They’re large, fuzzy green pods, usually at least six inches / 15 centimeters long. Choose the ones with smaller beans inside the pods (just feel them with your fingers). The large beans are too hard; the small ones cook up sweet and tender, and they’re also delicious raw. In France, they’re eaten with crusty bread, sweet butter and a little fleur de sel. (Do try this!)

Whether you eat them raw or cook them, you’ll need to peel them — twice. Once by removing the favas from those fuzzy pods. And then, pierce the skin of each bean with the tip of a small knife and slip off the jacket to liberate the shinier small bean inside. (Discard the skins and pods.) It’s labor-intensive, but worth it, if you’re up for it. (You can also drop them, still in their jackets, in boiling water, blanch 10 seconds or so, shock in cold water and they come off pretty easiily.)

If you do want to cheat (and I heartily recommend it!), it’s not always easy to find frozen favas — again, I find them in our Middle-Eastern market. Sometimes they’re peeled (yay!), and sometimes they’re out of the pods, but still wear their jackets, which is a drag. (These I run hot water over to thaw, then peel.) And sometimes it’s hard to tell from the bag whether they’re peeled or not.)

For the artichokes, I usually choose canned — those in jars are usually marinated in olive oil, and for Roden’s dish, we’re looking for plain ones. You can also sometimes find them frozen. To make the dish, you gently simmer the spring veg, then separately make a light white sauce with onion, garlic, white wine, a little serrano or other ham and some of the broth from the veg. Cook that sauce till velvety, and pour it over the brothy vegetables. It’s really nice.

RECIPE: Claudia Roden’s Medley of Spring Vegetables

A Levantine way with favas

Or maybe you want to take that nice bag of frozen favas and turn them into something easy and delightfully Lebanese. In that case, try this recipe adapted from Reem Kassis’ wonderful 2021 cookbook The Arabesque Table. Kassis has us warm olive oil with garlic, add the just-thawed favas, cook briefly and toss with lime juice and a lot of chopped cilantro.

Also from The Arabesque Table, I love this super quick and easy recipe starring canned or frozen artichoke hearts. They mingle with shrimp, along with fresh and preserved lemon and turmeric, for a dreamy main course.

RECIPE: Artichoke Shrimp with Preserved Lemon and Turmeric

Eat your peas!

Frozen peas? Oh, please — I eat them all year long. So do most chefs I know, even really famous ones.

My favorite frozen pea trick is turning them into a ridiculously easy yet surprisingly elegant soup based on traditional French potage Saint Germain.

Frozen peas and fresh mint also star, along with ricotta and lemon, in this adorable dip. Set it out — on a day that feels like spring, or almost — with toasted dark rye, crostini or crackers. No matter what the calendar says, spring will have arrived.

RECIPE: Pea-Ricotta Dip

Spring has spring

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Spring has spring 〰️

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For Pi Day, consider the Provençale onion tart known as a pissaladière

By Leslie Brenner

Looking for 78.5 square inches or 2,026 square centimeters of Pi Day deliciousness? Consider this pissaladière — an onion and anchovy tart that’s traditional in Provence, France.

Its base is a surprisingly easy pâte brisée (savory pastry) that comes together in a flash in the food processor. No need to blind-bake it. Fill it with slowly caramelized sliced onions, then top with a lattice of anchovy fillets dotted with pitted niçoise (or kalamata) olives and sprinkle with fresh thyme. Pop it in the oven and bake till golden brown. Those anchovies melt dreamily into the onions, which have already cooked down to rich sweetness.

A nice slice makes a wonderful light dinner, or a superb first course when friends come for dinner. Or take the whole tart — room temp — on a picnic.

At their home in Provence, pissaladières are sometimes built on bread rather than pastry crust, but I favor the pâte brisée tart-crust version, which is what qualifies it as a Pi Day treat. I learned it from a remarkable French cook (and old friend), Danièle Mazet-Delpeuch.

It’s a dish I’ve been making since Danièle taught it to me more than 30 years ago, and still one of my favorites.

The onions need to caramelize low and slow — which can take a couple of hours, or more. They don’t need much minding, though, just a stir every now and then. Maybe not something you want to tackle on mid-week Pi Day, but doesn’t it sound great for the weekend?

RECIPE: Pissaladière

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Kwame Onwuachi's Jambalaya is a thrilling expression of a Creole classic

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By Leslie Brenner

Jambalaya was not in the cards when I recently visited New Orleans, but it was definitely front of mind when I came home.

This was the perfect excuse to dive into Kwame Onwuachi’s acclaimed cookbook, My America: Recipes from a Young Black Chef, and start cooking. Since publishing it two years ago, Onwuachi has made a gigantic splash at Tatiana, the Afro-Caribbean restaurant he opened in New York City’s Lincoln Center 16 months ago. In fact, it’s hard to imagine a bigger splash: Tatiana topped the New York Times’ list of the 100 Best Restaurants in the city. Last fall, he was profiled in The New Yorker.

Jambalaya is not on Tatiana’s menu, but it does sit, as Onwuachi explains in his recipe’s headnote, “at the heart of Creole cuisine.” Generically, it’s a one-pot dish of rice with meats (often andouille sausage and chicken), vegetables (Louisiana’s “holy trinity” of onion, celery and bell pepper) and often shrimp or other seafood. Unlike gumbo, it’s not soupy or stewy. While gumbo (the ingredients of which are tatooed on Onwuachi’s arm, according to The New Yorker) is served with rice, jambalaya is a rice dish.

Every family has its own way of making it, writes Onwuachi in My America:

“Some use roux, some don’t. Some add andouille; others stick to seafood and chicken. Some families use short-grain rice, in a nod to paella; others use long."

The dish carries deep meaning for the chef, who grew up eating his mother’s jambalaya; she’s Creole, from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. His father is from Nigeria (where Kwame lived as a youth); the chef draws a comparison between Creole jambalaya and Nigerian jollof, another one-pot rice dish.

“Jambalaya, however, hails from Louisiana, where many Africans worked the rice fields the two continents shared. They brought with them not just the knowledge of how to grow but also how to prepare rice. Once in Louisiana, proto-jollof incorporated whatever proteins were available: andouille sausage, abundant shrimp from coastal waters, and chicken, another economical choice. Also added were influences of from the Spanish settlers who yearned for the paella of their home; and the French, the masters of roux.”

Although jambalaya is known as a one-pot affair, you’d need to haul out quite a few extra pots were you to follow Onwauachi’s recipe verbatim. There’s a second pot for the shrimp stock (for which you’d need a full pound of shrimp shells). You’d need a third to make chicken stock, and a fourth to make Louisiana-Style Hot Sauce, which requires a batch of Pickling Spice — in a fifth pot.

In a restaurant kitchen, making each of those ingredients from scratch in large quantities makes sense, but I don’t know many home cooks who’d comply.

That’s why I took the liberty of creating a few shortcuts. I hope that if chef Onwuachi ever sees this story and my adaptation of his wonderful recipe, he’ll find it in his heart to forgive me. My motive (a pure one to be sure!) is to make the recipe accessible to readers who may or may not own five pots, but in any case probably aren’t inclined to fabricate two stocks, a sauce, a brine and a spice mix before beginning to cook. Shortcuts notwithstanding, I daresay the resulting jambalaya is still pretty magnificent — and I think pretty close to the effect Onwuachi is hoping you’ll get.

RECIPE: Kwame Onwuachi’s Jambalaya

If you love the dish as much as I do, you’ll want to purchase the book — especially if you’re a seasoned and devoted enough cook that you might already have some shrimp stock laid in the freezer, or you’re actually eager to make your own hot sauce, or you to know how to create your own shortcuts. It’s an inspiring and beautiful volume.

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A love letter to vospov kofte: How my mother and I quashed our beef and swapped it with lentils

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Vospe Kofte lede.jpg

By Varty Yahjian

[Editor’s note: We loved this essay, originally published in March, 2021. Because it celebrates a dish that’s traditionally eaten during Lent, it feels like a great time to bring it back.]

My mother and I see eye to eye on exactly three things: inappropriate humor, dangly earrings and eating with our hands. (Vehement approval!) Oh, and we both sleep in on the weekends and cancel plans before noon.

Aside from these, it’s hard to find common ground between us, and we widen that distance in the kitchen. There, we disagree about it all. She doesn’t salt food while it cooks, while I think it’s a mistake to wait till the end; I like caramelizing onions, while she thinks it's a waste of time.

We do, however, have a common food heritage, one that spans the 36 years between us: We both grew up eating food native to the Caucasus and Eastern Europe. 

Our family tree is ethnically Armenian, but for the three generations preceding me, we have had Bulgarian nationality. In the early twentieth century, my paternal great-grandparents escaped ethnic cleansing in Anatolia and settled in Sofia, Bulgaria — where my father was born, and where my parents would eventually meet in the 1970s. My mother’s great-great-grandparents left Anatolia for the same reason even earlier, sticking to the Black Sea’s coast following their voyages as refugees. 

The result of these migrations is our family’s tradition, a fabulous mix of Armenian, Bulgarian, and now with me, American sensibilities. 

Gayane (left) and Varty Yahjian, making vospov kofte / Photo courtesy of Varty Yahjian

Gayane (left) and Varty Yahjian, making vospov kofte / Photo courtesy of Varty Yahjian

As with most immigrant families, my mother is the sovereign of the stove. To her it’s an indisputable reign, making for a tumultuous dinnertime environment because over the years, I’ve relied less on her recipes as I create my own. For instance, I use stewed tomatoes and a lot of dill in our flu-season chicken soup in lieu of her usual celery and bell peppers. Like a true monarch, she loathes these types of rebellions, vexedly announcing “I’m sorry, but no, this is not how you do it!” before storming off. 

When we were all younger, my mother fed the whole family, of course. I don’t know how she did it, because after working a ten-hour workday and pulling dinner together, she had to deal with my ruthlessly picky palate.  

Until I was in middle school, I rarely ate anything that wasn’t potatoes, rice or macaroni. Mushrooms were smelly and pretended to be meat; buckwheat tasted like aluminum foil (yes, I said that exactly); and romaine lettuce, my final boss of hated foods, was unbearably bitter. 

Regardless of protest, my mom always made sure my plate left the table clean; if not, “mekhké” — it’s a shame, as she would say — because those last few bites were my good luck charms.

Thankfully my tastebuds evolved in tweendom. Perhaps it was the feeling of unsupervised freedom after being dropped off at the mall that led me towards the food court’s salmon nigiri and fried chicken with waffles. 

Or maybe my budding womanhood began to recognize how incredible it was that my mother managed to feed us every single night. I owed it to her to honor her food, especially because at this point, she was also working on the weekends. Looking back, I see that my mother’s cooking was a love-language, and I understand now why she’d get so upset when I brought back full Tupperwares of food from school.

But part of my coming around could also just be that at some point, I saw how unbelievably lame it was to be so stubborn about food. 

Photo by Varty Yahjian

Photo by Varty Yahjian

In seventh grade I started watching Food Network, and my mother took note. Encouraging my growing curiosity, she bought me a copy of Cooking Rocks!: Rachael Ray 30-Minute Meals for Kids, and in her typical compliment-and-command delivery, inscribed on the first page “To my cute Varty to cook some meals!” 

And cook some meals I did, starting with Ray’s Tomato, Basil and Cheese Baked Pasta recipe, which I’ve since memorized and still make, with some grown-up additions. My parents loved it, and I was immediately validated — a powerful feeling for anyone, and especially a Green Day-listening, greasy-haired thirteen-year-old.

In high school, armed with my new driver's license in our family's Volvo wagon, I began tearing through Los Angeles' incredible culinary jungle — thrilled by the star anise and coriander at our local pho shop and tacos de lengua in Cypress Park. 

At home, I started carefully watching my mother because those smells of toasted butter, tomato sauce, and allspice had begun to signal more than just “dinner’s ready.” They were re-introducing me to flavors of my heritage — a connection to my great-grandparents I now feel so grateful for. 

I slowly learned the basics of our household standards: pilaf with vermicelli noodles, Bulgarian meatball soup, moussaka and dolma. I mostly observed and tried not to intervene because the few times I did, I slowed my mom down and got in the way. I watched how she used her hands to scoop roughly chopped onions into a pool of olive oil with a slice of butter for taste, and then liberally season them with paprika and chubritsa, a dried herb essential to the Bulgarian kitchen. 

Fast-forward to 2021, and we’re back in the same kitchen. My mother and I don’t really cook together; typically it’s only one of us preparing dinner for the family at a time. 

Varty (left) and Gayane Yahjian / Photo courtesy of Varty Yahjian

Varty (left) and Gayane Yahjian / Photo courtesy of Varty Yahjian

Except this time we’ve decided to collaborate — on a popular Western Armenian dish, vospov kofte, lentil “meatballs.”  

Vospov in Armenian translates to “with lentil” and kofte, or “meatball,” is spelled in Turkish. Neither word necessarily explains where the dish originates from. Lest we forget, the majority of the Middle East and all of Anatolia — where my great-grandparents are from — were under Ottoman rule for centuries. Present-day Armenia and Turkey share a border, and given their history, attributing food to either one is fertile ground for an argument in the comments section.

Typically the dish is served as part of the cold mezze on Western Armenian dining tables. It’s popular during Lent, when animal products are shunned in observation of Jesus Christ’s forty days resisting the devil’s temptation. As such, Armenian Lenters have gotten pretty creative over the last two thousand years in reworking dishes to meet the orthodoxy’s expectations. Vospov kofte is one of these remixes, where beef or lamb is swapped with red lentils and bulgur to make for a lighter, all-vegan version that pleases God and mortals alike. It’s so delicious that in our family, we enjoy it year-round.  

Given our foundational cooking disagreements, the idea of my mom and I preparing these vospov koftes together is a big deal. 

We begin by bickering over which saucepan to use, a common pre-cooking ritual for us. I prefer to use a smaller pot, but my mother insists (and I’ll now admit rightfully so) that we’ll need the larger one to contain the lava-like bubbles red lentils make when they simmer into a thick paste.

After enough shuffling around one another in near-silence, the tension finally breaks as we laugh about how the measuring cup could have disappeared into thin air. 

We measure out and soak bulgur, which will get stirred into the thick lentil paste along with parsley, spices, scallions and sautéed onions, discuss the supremacy of Italian parsley over curly-leaf as we chop, and compare the ways we’ve failed at trying to cut onions without crying. We learn that neither of us is the timer-setting type, and our bulgur probably spends a bit too long soaking. Not a big deal, though.

We hand-knead everything together with great conviction, and slowly it turns into an aromatic paste, sticking to our fingers. After scraping as much of it off our palms into the bowl as we can, we set aside a little bowl of water, dip our fingers in, and start shaping the kofte into its characteristic, ovalesque shape, lengthened on the ends and slightly flattened in the middle. We arrange our koftes in a neat wreath, decorate it with more chopped parsley, and then finally face the truth: It is extremely rare to find us in the kitchen together. Why is that?

“Because you always tell me what to do for no reason,” I say with a touch of shade.

Vospov kofte / Photograph by Varty Yahjian

Vospov kofte / Photograph by Varty Yahjian

My mom pauses, and for a millisecond drops eye contact before returning with the smile of someone who’s seen me spit out celery and start fights over cilantro: “You have a great taste, and everything you make is very yummy. Let’s cook together more.” 

And because she wouldn’t be my mother without giving me a task, she hugs me and says, “Just you need to do clean-up after you cook.” 

I’ll heed her words, because she’s right: The countertop is a cacophony of utensils, parsley stems and spilled cumin. But for once, this mother and daughter are totally, deliciously, in sync. 

Varty Yahjian lives, works and cooks in La Cañada, California. This is her first story for Cooks Without Borders. 

Want to make Moti Mahal-style butter chicken? Our take on its recipe has the restaurant owner’s stamp of approval

By Leslie Brenner

News outlets all around the world, including the Times of India, Indian Express, BBC, The Guardian, South China Morning Post, Al Jazeera, The New York Times, CBS News, Le Figaro and others, have reported on a culinary dispute that landed in the High Court in Delhi, India in January.

At the center of it: bragging rights to murgh makhani, also known as butter chicken. The dish, as you know if you’ve ever swooned over a plate of it, consists of pieces of tandoori chicken bathed in a rich, velvety gravy built from onions, ginger, garlic, spices and tomatoes, and finished with butter and cream.

On one side of the butter chicken conflict is Monish Gujral, owner of Moti Mahal — which began as a dhaba (roadside restaurant) in Peshawar in pre-Partition India (now Pakistan) in 1920 and reopened in Delhi post-Partition in 1947. His grandfather, Kundan Laj Gujral — Moti Mahal’s first chef and eventual owner — has long been credited with having created butter chicken. His Delhi Moti Mahal was an instant hit, and the Gujral family developed it over the ensuing decades into an empire of more than 250 restaurants around the world — fueled largely on butter chicken’s enduring popularity.

On the other side is Raghave Jaggi, whose grandfather Kundan Laj Jaggi (yes, same first name as Gujral’s grandfather) was also a chef who fled Peshawar during Partition and who also settled in Delhi. Both parties agree, according to the New York Times, that the two chefs — Kundan Laj Jaggi and Kundan Laj Gujral — were partners in that first Delhi Moti Mahal.

Which of the two created butter chicken (and dal makhani, butter lentils)? That’s the disagreement: Both Gujral and Jaggi say the two dishes were their own grandfather’s inventions.

In 2019, Raghave Jaggi opened his own restaurant, calling it Daryaganj. Its tagline: “By the inventors of butter chicken & dal makhani.”

Two tales of one chicken

Here’s the story as the Gujral family presents it. Fabulous as tandoori chicken is just out of the tandoor, it tends to dry out overnight, and isn’t fit for serving the day after it’s made. That kind of food waste doesn’t fly in restaurants, and the elder Gujral came up with a delicious solution: He created a rich, buttery, beautifully spiced gravy as a way to revive those dried-out tandoori chickens.

Daryaganj’s menu tells a different story:

“One fine night in 1947, Kundan Lal Jaggi was about to shut shop when a group of hungry guests arrived at his restaurant. The kitchen was nearly empty at that late hour, barring a few portions of their famous tandoori chicken. He was struck with the idea to make a “butter” gravy with tomatoes, fresh butter and some spices. He then added pieces of cooked tandoori chicken to it, so it can suffice for all. The guests loved it and he decided to put this dish permanently on his menu and christened it ‘Butter Chicken.’”

And so both families are headed to the High Court, where Gujral is suing Jaggi for copyright infringement and unfair competition. The suit, which is expected to be heard in May, will presumably decide which of their brand stories is legit – with high-stakes ramifications for each restaurant brand’s marketing.

Meanwhile, it just us, or does that tale sound a lot like Caesar Salad’s origin story? Here’s Wikipedia’s version:

“The salad's creation is generally attributed to the restaurateur Caesar Cardini, an Italian immigrant who operated restaurants in Mexico and the United States. Cardini lived in San Diego but ran one of his restaurants in Tijuana to attract American customers seeking to circumvent the restrictions of Prohibition. His daughter, Rosa, recounted that her father invented the salad at the Tijuana restaurant when a Fourth of July rush in 1924 depleted the kitchen's supplies. Cardini made do with what he had, adding the dramatic flair of table-side tossing by the chef.”

World Butter Chicken starts with tandoori chicken thighs.

A personal favorite

While the two families battle it out in court, we’ll be enjoying the Moti Mahal version of the dish stateside — and invite you to, as well.

I developed a butter chicken obsession a few years back, and became intent on developing a recipe as close as possible to the one served at Moti Mahal. We’re all about presenting the quintessential version of essential recipes at Cooks Without Borders, and the version served at the place that made a dish world-famous felt like the appropriate benchmark. To that end, in the spring of 2020, I started with the murgh makhani recipe from Monish Gujral’s 2009 book, On the Butter Chicken Trail. At the same time, I struck up a correspondence with Gujral — wanting to run by him any refinements to his recipe, to make sure the result would be as close to what he served in his restaurants as possible.

Gujral delighted me by looking over and approving of my tweaks to his original recipe, all designed to help American cooks closely approximate the dish in their American kitchens. For instance, instead of asking cooks to start with a 600-700-gram (1 1/3 to 1 1/2-pound) whole, skinless chicken, marinating it, skewering it, then roasting it on a spit, when I’ve never seen such a small bird in a commercial setting stateside and few people here are set up for spit-roasting, my recipe uses chicken thighs, giving them a yogurt-based tandoori marinade first, then roasting them on a rack so the oven heat circulates around them. For the sauce, rather than using 14 whole tomatoes and then straining them out (along with the onions), I used a can of diced tomatoes, and puréed the sauce to silky smooth — less work, less waste, just as much flavor (or maybe more). The dish quickly became a Cooks Without Borders favorite.

A few months later, Gujral contacted me, as he was planning to celebrate the 100-year anniversary of the original Moti Mahal, the Peshawar dhaba.

Together, Gujral and I cooked up the idea of creating a food holiday to commemorate the anniversary — World Butter Chicken Day. I wrote about it for The Dallas Morning News. In honor of the occasion, I streamlined and refined the adapted recipe even further, and called it World Butter Chicken. I believe it’s as excellent as its more elaborate and time-consuming forebear, and once again, Gujral gave it his blessing.

RECIPE: World Butter Chicken

If we can ever get our hands on Daryaganj’s butter chicken recipe, we’re eager to produce a Butter Chicken Smackdown — preparing both recipes and tasting them side by side. (How fun would that be?!) Alas, a tag on Daryaganj’s menu that says “Secret Recipes of 1947” would seem to imply that family is not about to give away theirs.

We’ll certainly be keeping our eyes on the Delhi High Court’s decision. No matter what happens, I’ll forever be grateful to the Gujral family for sharing their own spectacular recipe for butter chicken success with the world.

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Elegant and easy, scallops grenobloise stars in a dazzling dinner for two

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By Leslie Brenner

They’re plump, gorgeous, oceanic in flavor — and just the thing to wow a dinner partner when staying in sounds more delightful than date-night out. Succulent sea scallops are the perfect centerpiece for a beautiful dinner for two.

Yes, they’re pricy, but it’s pretty easy to make them dazzle. Lately, my favorite way is with a French prep known as à la grenobloise: seared in a hot pan, spooned over with a sauce of browned butter, lemon and capers and finished with parsley. With so few ingredients and very little prep, it’s quick as it sounds, and ideally suited for a special evening. It’s also light, so dinner doesn’t have to end with a groan.

Named for Grenoble, the city known as the unofficial capital of the French Alps, the preparation is better known as a way to sauce skate (raie à la grenobloise), sole or trout. (And yes — it’s also wonderful with those, if they call to you from the fish counter.)

The trickiest part of the grenobloise is cutting a lemon into suprêmes — segments freed from the citrus’ membranes. But even that is easy once you have the hang of it. (Watch the video of Lefebvre making the dish to see how.) But suprêmes aren’t strictly necessary; you can just as well cut the lemon into very thin slices and cut those slices into pieces; no one will be the wiser. Other than that, the only advance prep is chopping a little parsley, measuring out and draining some capers and squeezing a lemon.

I must admit, I’m a bit perplexed that seafood à la grenobloise isn’t better known. Jacques Pépin also makes them in a video (he adds mushrooms), but I can’t find it in any of the Anglophone French cookbooks on my shelves — including Julia Child’s Mastering the Art, Ann Willan’s Country Cooking of France, Dorie Greenspan’s Around My French Table or Patricia Wells’ My Master Recipes. Nor is it in the 1,086-page French-language Le Grand Livre de la Cuisine Française, nor Hubert Delorme and Vincent Boué’s The Complete Book of French Cooking, recently published in English translation from the French. And no, not a single mention of à la grenobloise — or sole, skate or scallops prepared that way — in Escoffier (at least that I could find).

It is, however, all over the French internet. (Spoiler alert: Many of the recipes also include croutons toasted in butter.)

You might be curious about how sauce grenobloise got its name. After all, Grenoble is landlocked. The French Wikipedia listing for “la sauce grenobloise” cites one Claude Muller, author of Cuisine traditionelle des Alpes, as explaining that fish arrived in Grenoble a bit worse for wear after being transported, and the custom developed of hiding the off-taste with capers. (Oh, sure — the famous old caper trick!)

Celery, Endive and Crab Salad

So, what to have avec?

Precede the scallops with a celery, endive and crab salad, or — if you want something warm, an easy minted pea soup (it’s made from frozen peas, but the flavor is amazing). Either can be made almost entirely in advance, leaving you free to enjoy your evening.

With the scallops themselves, you could serve rice or potatoes of some kind, or keep it light and let them stand on their own. Ludo Lefebvre, chef-owner of Petit Trois in Los Angeles and Chez Maggy in Denver, includes blanched cauliflower florets in his, which is also a lovely idea.

And for dessert: Tangerine sorbet!

Tangerines (aka mandarins) are so fabulous this time of year. One of my favorite recipes from David Lebovitz’s The Perfect Scoop captures and intensifies their brilliant flavor in a sorbet. Make it the day before, and all you’ll need to do is scoop. Serve it alone, or with some simple almond cookies or tuiles, homemade or store-bought.

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Auspiciously, deliciously ring in the Year of the Dragon with these outstanding Chinese cookbooks

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By Leslie Brenner

With Lunar New Year right around the bend — New Year’s Eve is Friday, Feb. 9 — you may be planning a celebratory feast. And of course the 15-day spring festival that begins on New Year’s Day, Feb. 10 is a great time to focus on Chinese cooking.

We’ve rounded up our favorite Chinese cookbooks to serve as inspiration and guide you with great technique — with a selection of recipes from them that are perfect for the holiday season.

The Breath of a Wok

Grace Young's award-winning 2004 book approaches cooking as a poet might, looking deeply into the soul of the cuisine. For Young, it all starts with the wok, and she walks readers through everything about it, from how to choose one to purchase, to "opening" the wok, to seasoning it with dishes early in its life. She then teaches us to stir-fry with wok hay — that ineffable "breath of a wok" that distinguishes the best Chinese cooking.

The book is also extremely useful if you’re cooking for Lunar New Year, as it includes — buried way back in the index — a list of 66 recipes appropriate for the holiday.

There’s also a helpful section about New Year’s menus, with four suggested menus — all of which are made up of dishes that can be made in advance. The lead-off recipe is Jean Yueh’s Shanghai-Style Shrimp, which is auspicious because shrimp represent happiness. Sweet and savory, with ginger and scallions, it’s also quick and easy.

RECIPE: Jean Yueh’s Shanghai-Style Shrimp

The Breath of a Wok, by Grace Young and Alan Richardson, 2004, Simon & Schuster, $38.50

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Mastering the Art of Chinese Cooking

The books of trail-blazing author Eileen Yin-Fei Lo, who died in late 2022, were my first teaching manuals when I began exploring Chinese cooking 17 years ago. Mastering the Art of Chinese Cooking, which was published in 2009, is structured like a Chinese cooking school — as a series of lessons, all centered around the Chinese market. With more than 150 recipes and beautiful photos throughout, it's a classic.

It includes a chapter called “Creating Menus in the Chinese Manner,” in which there’s a wonderful page outlining a Lunar New Year banquet.

Among the New Year’s dishes are Clams Stir-Fried with Black Beans, auspicious because “When clams open, they symbolize prosperity.”

RECIPE: Clams Stir-Fried with Black Beans

Mastering the Art of Chinese Cooking by Eileen Yin-Fei Lo, photographs by susie cushner, 2009, Chronicle Books

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Every Grain of Rice

If you could purchase only one Chinese cookbook, this would be my recommendation. Author Fuchsia Dunlop, who was the first Westerner to train as a chef at the Sichuan Institute of Higher Cuisine in Central China, is a wonderful teacher. Her well selected recipes have always worked brilliantly for me (she’s a careful writer, and the book is well edited); she has a terrific palate, so everything’s delicious. You’ll pick up lots of sound technique along the way. [Read our review.]

In fact, all of Dunlop’s books are outstanding — including The Land of Fish and Rice; The Food of Sichuan and her latest title — which is not a cookbook — Invitation to a Banquet.

For New Year’s, try the Every Grain of Rice’s Yangzhou Fried Rice.

RECIPE: Yangzhou Fried Rice

EVERY GRAIN OF RICE: SIMPLE CHINESE HOME COOKING, BY FUCHSIA DUNLOP, PHOTOGRAPHS BY CHRIS TERRY, 2012, W.W. NORTON & CO., $35.

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The Woks of Life

Fun, approachable, relatable and highly user-friendly, the cookbook spun out of the Leung Family’s popular cooking website is another great primer. A whole fish is a must for Chinese New Year feasts, and The Woks of Life’s Cantonese Steamed Fish — with ginger, scallions, cilantro and soy sauce — is a great choice. [Read our review of the book.]

There’s also a splendid recipe for jiaozi (dumplings), which are traditionally enjoyed in the north of China for New Year’s. They’re filled with pork, mushroom and cabbage.

RECIPE: Woks of Life Pork, Cabbage and Mushroom Dumplings

THE WOKS OF LIFE: RECIPES TO KNOW AND LOVE FROM A CHINESE AMERICAN FAMILY BY BILL, JUDY, SARAH AND KAITLIN LEUNG, CLARKSON POTTER, $35

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The Vegan Chinese Kitchen

This 2022 book from Hannah Che, creator of the excellent blog The Plant-Based Wok, is inspiring and beautiful — and a real gift for vegans and vegetarian.

Now based in Portland, Oregon, Che studied in Guangzhou, at the only vegetarian cooking school in China. There she immersed herself in zhai cai, the plant-based cuisine with centuries-old Buddhist roots that emphasizes umami-rich ingredients.

Leafy greens symbolize wealth, and Che’s Blanched Lettuce with Ginger Sauce is deliciously auspicious for the holiday. [Read our review of the book.]

RECIPE: Hannah Che’s Blanched Lettuce with Ginger Sauce

THE VEGAN CHINESE KITCHEN: RECIPES AND MODERN STORIES FROM A THOUSAND-YEAR-OLD TRADITION, BY HANNAH CHE, CLARKSON POTTER, 2022, $35

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My Shanghai

Betty Liu has a lovely page about Lunar New Year in her 2020 book, My Shanghai, which we wrote about two years ago.

Pork dishes are big for the holiday, and you can’t do better than Liu’s Shanghai-style red-braised pork belly.

RECIPE: Betty Liu’s Mom’s Shanghai Red-Braised Pork Belly

My Shanghai: Recipes and Stories from a City on the Water, by Betty Liu, 2020, Harper Design, $35

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EXPLORE: All Cooks Without Borders Chinese Recipes

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Holy minestrone — Italy's favorite soup deserves way more respect

By Leslie Brenner

Minestrone is the unsung hero of the Italian table. It may not have the look-at-me pyrotechnics of soup dumplings, or the cheesy razzmatazz of cacio e pepe. A mediocre minestrone can be awfully dull.

But when it’s good, it can make you cry.

So what exactly is minestrone? It’s a vegetable soup. Beyond that, as La Cucina Italiana puts it, “it can become whatever you want it to be.”

In the summer, minestrone may be served cold, with herb-happy pesto swirled in. In the winter, it’s heart-warming comfort food. It usually has beans, but not necessarily. (Traditionally, they were more likely to be borlotti rather than cannellini in the winter, green beans in the summer.) A “robust vegetable soup thickened with rice or pasta, of which there are innumerable versions,” is the way Elizabeth David described it in her in her 1954 book Italian Food.

Marcella Hazan wrote that in her native Romagna, minestrone starts with the always-available staples — carrots, onion and potatoes — and these get cooked for hours in good broth. “The result is a soup of dense, mellow flavor that recalls no vegetable in particular, but all of them at once.” The recipe she offers also includes zucchini, celery, green beans, Savoy cabbage, cannellini beans, canned Italian plum tomatoes, meat broth and an optional Parmesan rind. At the end, she swirls in grated Parm. There’s no rice, no pasta.

There is rice, however, in the recipe that follows: a Milan-style summer minestrone. To make it, you start with her Romagna-style minestrone, add Arborio rice, cook till the rice is done, ladle in bowls and garnish with torn basils.

Stateside, the version of minestrone that has gotten the most traction in the last 75 years or lines up pretty well with Hazan’s winter warmer, with one important difference: Here there must be pasta. Because let’s admit it — the pasta is what makes minestrone soar. Take a spoonful; you’ve got all the diced veg, a bean or two, that nice, thick broth, and then fwap — you get a floppy elbow mac, or maybe a sucullent tubetti. Definitely not al dente. Slurp it up; it’s a prize. That’s what’s great about minestrone: that stray floppy pasta. It’s the thing that makes everyone happy.

Because minestrone can become whatever you or I want it to be, I use a lot of lacinato kale in mine, and cannellini beans — a can of them, so it’s super-easy. If I want to take more time and manage to plan ahead, I’ll use dried borlottis. I skip the potatoes, and use turnips instead; I prefer their texture and minerality. If I could find Savoy cabbage, I’d use a bunch of that. Carrots, celery, onions, thyme. A couple of bay leaves. Chicken broth. Definitely a Parmesan rind (somehow I usually have one.) I don’t stir in grated parm at the end; I like it a bit more pure.

Take my minestrone recipe and cook it as written — or run with it, and change it up however you like. Use potatoes instead of turnips, or baby spinach instead of kale. Or use both, or all four, or something else entirely (why not arugula?). Throw in some green beans, or peas, or sliced Brussels sprouts. Use vegetable broth instead of chicken, skip the parm rind and turn it vegan. Or go in the other direction and throw some diced pancetta in with the aromatic vegetables at the start, and add a flurry of grated parm as a final flourish.

Just one request: Don’t skip the pasta. You’ll be so much happier.

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Taiwanese and Taiwanese American culinary traditions shine in three exciting cookbooks

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Taiwanese beef noodle soup prepared from a recipe in‘First Generation: Recipes from My Taiwanese-American Home’ by Frankie Gaw

By Leslie Brenner

A Taiwanese American identity movement is gathering strength in the United States. For those of us who love to cook and want to learn about Taiwan’s culinary culture — and for Taiwanese Americans keen to celebrate and cook the dishes of their beloved island nation — three recent cookbooks provide a delicious way in.

Each is appealing in its own way. Each also brings something uniquely valuable to the table. One is the perfect primer if you’re looking for Taiwanese culinary history and cultural context. Another is filled with great recipes and soulful personal takes on the Taiwanese American experience. The third shows you how to make beloved dishes from a cult-favorite Brooklyn restaurant and bakery.

‘Made in Taiwan’: Thoughtful overview, wide-ranging recipes

Many non-Taiwanese Americans’ knowledge of Taiwanese cooking is fuzzy at best. We might know that Din Tai Fung, the global chain of soup dumpling restaurants, began in Taiwan. Or that boba tea (also known as bubble tea) is iconically Taiwanese. We might even know — for instance, if we’ve ventured into a Taiwanese restaurant here and there — that beef noodle soup and scallion pancakes are Taiwanese favorites. Maybe we’ve heard of stinky tofu: Yes, that’s Taiwanese, too.

If you’re looking for a thoughtful overview that provides excellent context, background and history of Taiwanese culinary culture and all it has to offer, Made in Taiwan is the book for you. “I hope the world can see Taiwan as more than just a geopolitical chess piece or a controversial island near China with great night markets,” writes author Clarissa Wei in her introduction. She’s an accomplished Taiwanese American journalist who was born and raised in Los Angeles, and is now based in Taiwan’s capital, Taipei. She adds:

“Our cuisine is a hodgepodge of cultures, colored by our indigenous tribes, influenced by Japanese colonists, inspired by American military aid and shaped by all the various waves of Chinese immigrants and refugees who have arrived and made this island their home.”

We learn in an excellent chapter on the culinary history of the island that 95% of Taiwan’s population is Han Chinese, which Wei points out is but a “vague umbrella term for people who have ancestry in China.” In the 17th century the first wave of Chinese immigrants, from Fujian in south China, brought “the love of seafood, rice and pork.” Taiwanese cooking is similar to Chinese, with food that is “fried or braised in large woks, or softened in hot and steamy bamboo baskets stacked on top of one another.” Taiwan and Fujian share a common love for “lightly seasoned food, occasionally heightened with a minimalistic trinity of ginger, garlic and scallions.” Sweet potatoes — which thrive on the island’s subtropical climate — is the dominant carb, along with rice. Because the mountainous terrain lacks wide grazing lands, pork, not beef, is the de facto protein; seafood is also important.

In 1949, when the communists (under Mao Zedong) took power in China over the nationalist government of Chiang Kai-shek, Chiang fled to Taiwan, establishing the Republic of China (R.O.C.), Taiwan’s official name. The R.O.C. and the U.S. became close allies and the U.S. pumped extensive military aid and exports to the island — including wheat. As a result, Taiwan fell in love with American food culture. America’s fried chicken inspired Taiwanese popcorn chicken; refugees from North China turned the wheat into dumplings and noodles.

The Recipes

Wei enlisted the help of Ivy Chen, a Taiwanese cooking instructor with deep knowledge of the island’s countryside culinary traditions that Wei says is lacking among “younger city folk.” The two traveled widely around the R.O.C. to gather inspiration from far-flung cooks.

Pickled Mustard and Pork Noodle Soup (Zhà Cài Ròu Sī Miàn)

This comforting noodle soup features preserved mustard stems, which you can make yourself (there’s a recipe in the book) or pick up at a well stocked Asian supermarket; there you can also look for fresh (or fresh frozen) Taiwanese wheat noodles, or use dried. Homemade pork broth makes the difference between a good soup and a great one in this case; I tried it both ways and vote for the homemade broth over purchased chicken broth.

RECIPE: Pickled Mustard and Pork Noodle Soup (Zha Cai Rou Si Mian)

I also enjoyed making Braised Napa Cabbage with shiitake, wood-ear mushrooms and carrots; with steamed or brown rice, it makes a lovely plant-forward dinner; and I’m eager to make Sweet Potato Leaves Stir-Fry, once I can get my hands on sweet potato leaves. A Quick Seafood Congee looks wonderful, and so does Smoked Betel Leaf Pork Sausage — though I don’t know if I’m up to wrangling hog casings. Made in Taiwan’s recipe for Three-Cup Chicken was satisfying, but the sauce didn’t work properly; it wouldn’t reduced to the “treacly, sticky glaze” the recipe promises and the famous dish is known for.

Pickled Mustard Greens, on the other hand worked great. Once I sun-dry them and age them, I can use them next time I make the Pickled Mustard and Pork Noodle Soup.

Made in Taiwan: Recipes and Stories from the Island Nation by Clarissa Wei with Ivy Chen, Simon Element, $40.

‘First Generation’: Storytelling with a giant heart, and recipes that work

If you want to gain a sense of what it’s like growing up in a Taiwanese American family, Frankie Gaw’s debut book (published in late 2022) has your name on it. You’ll eat super well along the way.

I fell hard for Gaw, the cook behind the delightful Little Fat Boy blog; His headnotes are some of the most engaging I’ve ever read. Here’s how he introduces his Grandma’s Pearl Meatballs:

“This was one of the very first recipes my grandma taught me when I started learning to cook fro her. I had never even seen it before she taught me. I remember following her lead as she combined a familiar mixture of pork, ginger and scallions into a meatball, then rolled it in grains of sweet glutinous rice that looked like pearls. After an 18-minute steam, lifting the steamer lid revealed glistening sticky rice balls, every grain soaked with pork juice and the aroma of bamboo. I can trace this recipe back to the Hubei province of China; it’s one of the dishes that makes me proud to be Asian.”

Who could resist?!

RECIPE: Frankie Gaw’s Grandma’s Pearl Meatballs

Gaw’s recipes are a pure pleasure to make — they’re as much about having fun with the process as they are with the end result. Excellent step-by-step visuals (expertly illustrated and photographed by Gaw himself) show how to pull noodles, wrap wontons, make braided bao wrappers and more.

Dan Bing

When Gaw writes that the egg crepes known as Dan Bing are a traditional Taiwanese breakfast dish his grandma used to make for him — and the simplest dish in the entire book — of course I had to make that, too. I loved them.

RECIPE: Dan Bing

And here’s his recipe for his Uncle Jerry’s Taiwanese Beef Noodle Soup, shown at the top of this review:

RECIPE: Frankie Gaw’s Uncle Jerry’s Taiwanese Beef Noodle Soup

Meanwhile, smack in the middle of the book, Gaw includes a full-page coming-out letter to his dad. It’s adorable, funny, poignant and brave — and followed by a recipe for Scallion Pancakes, whose headnote literally made me cry. Don’t ask why; just buy the book and read it all.

FIRST GENERATION; RECIPES FROM MY TAIWANESE-AMERICAN HOME BY FRANKIE GAW, TEN SPEED PRESS, 2022 $32.50.

‘Win Son Presents a Taiwanese American Cookbook’: Razzle-dazzle from a Brooklyn hot spot

This book from Josh Ku and Trigg Brown, the founders of Brooklyn’s Win Son and Win Son Bakery, (with an assist from writer Cathy Erway) is pure, exuberant fun — the kind of fun that one imagines makes the restaurant and bakery such hot tickets.

What sets it apart from First Generation and Made in Taiwan is that the recipes explode with creativity, and they don’t shy away from embracing wild fusions.

Lamb Wontons

Case in point: a platter of gingery, garlicky lamb wontons set on a schmear of labneh (yes, labneh!), dusted with cumin seeds, then sprinkled with a special “lamb spice mix,” drizzled with sweet soy dipping sauce and chile oil and showered with cilantro leaves. Weird-sounding? Maybe. Over the top? Definitely. Delicious? Absolutely.

RECIPE: Win Son’s Lamb Wontons

Win Son’s recipes are very cheffy, and not always in a user-friendly way. There are lots of sub-recipes, and in amounts that don’t make sense for a home cook. (What are you going to do with 2/3 cup of leftover lamb spice mix? Our adapted recipe adjusts so you only make enough for the wontons.) Yields are sometimes off. (The wonton recipe says it makes about 35; we had enough filling for 65.)

And sometimes the recipes just don’t behave. When I made Sun Cookies — a bakery signature — I took the authors’ suggested shortcut, using purchased frozen puff pastry instead of spending hours making a rough-puff pastry. Coming out of the oven, the cookies seemed to be complete flops, with lots of (very expensive!) pine nuts and caramelly filling spilling out of them as they baked. They looked nothing like the photo in the book. I nearly threw them away.

A sheet pan of Sun Cookies, their filling half-leaked out and looking strange, next to a photo of the cookie from the book

But once they cooled, I flipped them over, and hey! — they looked much like the ones in the book. That filling was almost painfully sweet, but the cookies were kind of evilly good — though I’m guessing the ones from the bakery starring freshly made rough puff are a thousand times better.

The Sun Cookies, once I flipped them over

These are the kinds of problems that are typical for chef books — which is why it’s so important the recipes are thoroughly tested before publication, along with careful editing and copy editing. Alas, these important steps are falling more and more by the wayside.

That said, Win Son Presents has an awful lot of charm, especially for fans of the restaurant and bakery. If you’re going to buy the book and attempt the recipes, best if you’re a more experienced cook, so you can spot any potential problems before getting too far into them. (Fear not — our adapted recipes fix all such rough spots.) If you are a confident chef who can adapt when things don’t go as anticipated, there’s plenty of worthwhile inspiration in Win Son Presents’ pages.

Win Son’s Soybean, Tofu Skin and Pea Shoot Salad

Fortunately I had my guard up when I made the Green Soybean, Tofu Skin and Pea Shoot Salad: The recipe called for 4 ounces, or 115 grams, of roasted seaweed snacks, which you’re supposed to crush and toss with the salad. I figured it was a mistake — seaweed snacks usually come in 4-gram or 10-gram packs. One hundred fifteen grams is a comical amount, a giant bowlful that would have completely overwhelmed the salad. I used 10 grams, which was more than enough, and adjusted our adapted recipe accordingly. The salad was a winner — fresh, fun and different. (And vegan!)

RECIPE: Win Son’s Soybean, Tofu Skin and Pea Shoot Salad

Win Son Presents a Taiwanese American Cookbook, by Josh Ku and Trigg Brown with Cathy Erway, abrams, 2023, $40.

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Recipe of the Day: Hooni Kim's Japchae

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By Leslie Brenner

Do you enjoy stretchy noodles, vegetables and sesame? If so, you’ll love japchae — a beloved, homespun Korean comfort dish. The noodles, made from sweet potato starch, are called dangmyeon. This version of the dish is adapted from My Korea: Traditional Flavors, Modern Recipes, the outstanding 2020 cookbook by New York City-based star chef Hooni Kim.

Make it once, savor those stretchy dangmyeon noodles, and I think you’ll be smitten. Want to make it gluten-free? Swap gluten-free tamari for the soy sauce. Want to make it vegan? Use water instead of the dashi. It’s a delightful weeknight dinner — one that pays delicious leftover dividends, if you’re serving fewer than four.

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The chocolate crisis is apparently not going away — here's the easy way to bake safely (plus a super chocolatey recipe)

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A few specific chocolate products that tested as relatively safe by both Consumer Reports and As You Sow

By Leslie Brenner

Around this time last year, I purged my kitchen of all my favorite chocolate: organic Theo bars in myriad fabulous flavors; Valhrona cocoa powder; the Trader Joe’s organic bars that were great for baking. It was painful, but had to be done. The big question: Would I be able to find suitable replacements, or would I have to give up chocolate nibbling and baking in the name of health?

If you’re scratching your head and wondering what on earth I’m talking about, you’ve missed the alarming news of the last 13 months: Many of the most popular brands of chocolate have been found to contain dangerous levels of lead and cadmium. The dangerous products include brands favored by pastry chefs and serious home bakers.

In December 2022, Consumer Reports published an extensive article that laid out the dangers, and conducted its own tests on 28 bars. Then in October last year the publication updated that article, and revealed the findings of more testing — on cocoa powders, chocolate chips and brownie mixes. Consumer Reports’ work on the subject follows the important work  of As You Sow, a California-based nonprofit devoted to environmental and corporate responsibility. As You Sow has been testing chocolates for heavy metal since 2014, and provides to the public a searchable database of test results (scroll down on their Toxic Chocolate page to find it).

I woke up to the problem last February, when a New York Times health column asked “Do I Need to Avoid Dark Chocolate Now?” The article concluded that there’s “no reason to panic,” and quoted an assistant professor of behavioral health and nutrition at the University of Delaware as saying that if you eat chocolate often, you should consider choosing brands with lower concentrations of the harmful metals. At the same time, it reminded us that there is no established safe intake level for lead, because “even the lowest blood lead levels are associated with adverse neurodevelopmental effects in children.”

I dove in, checked Consumer Reports list of “safer” bars, and cross-referenced it with As You Sow’s test results. I then headed to the supermarket, came up with a selection of widely available dark chocolate products that tested as relatively safe, and wrote about it for the Cooks Without Borders newsletter.

At that time, it seemed pretty straightforward: Ghirardelli 100% cacao and 60% cacao premium baking bars were found by both organizations to be relatively safe. Ghirardelli also makes a 72% cacao bar — Intense Dark Twilight Delight — that Consumer Reports found to be safe; however, As You Sow’s testing showed it to have a dangerously high level of cadmium.

Cocoa powders: not so simple

Consumer Reports hadn’t yet tested cocoa powders, but As You Sow did, and it deemed Hershey’s Cocoa to be safe. (Most Hershey’s products tested as unsafe, but the unsweetened 100% cocoa passed As You Sow’s tests).

Now that Consumer Reports has also tested cocoa powders, the two organizations show conflicting results — CR found Hershey’s Cocoa to be unsafe, while it deems a number of cocoas safe that As You Sow found to be unsafe. At this point, there is not a single cocoa powder that both Consumer Reports and As You Sow consider safe.

Use a safe chocolate to make these Mexican Chocolate Situation bars, and you can safely enjoy one bar.

Safe chocolate chips and bars — with a caveat

Good news for chocolate-chip cookie lovers: Consumer Reports’ more recent testing found a number of widely available dark chocolate chips to be relative safe — including Ghirardelli 60% cacao, Nestlé Toll House Semi-Sweet Morsels, 365 Whole Foods Market Semisweet Chocolate Baking Chips and chips from Trader Joes, Kirkland (Costco), Lily’s, Great Value (Walmart), Hershey’s, Enjoy Life and Guittard.

However, that comes with a caveat: What’s considered relatively safe is just one serving, about ½ ounce, or 14 grams. That’s roughly one tablespoon — about what you’d probably get in one or two chocolate chip cookies. So that does not mean you can safely use or eat these chocolate chips with abandon.

That’s also true for baking with the safer bars: Both Consumer Reports and As You Sow base test results on one ounce. If you want to be safe, do not consume more than one ounce (28 grams), even if you’re consuming one of the “safe” products. That means you cannot safely eat an entire batch of brownies made with the Ghirardelli premium baking bars. But if you make a batch of brownies that uses 6 ounces of chocolate and makes 12 brownies, you can safely eat two brownies.

Use 60% cacao chocolate and 100% cacao chocolate in a 3:1 ratio to get 70% cacao chocolate.

The bars to buy, the ratio to remember

Many of us want to be safe — and to keep our children and grandchildren safe — but don’t have the time or inclination to consult two different websites each time we purchase chocolate for a recipe. Happily, here’s something that’s easy to remember: Choose those two Ghirardelli bars — the 60% cacao premium baking bar and the 100% premium baking bar — and you’ll be making a safe choice.

Use them at a 3 to 1 ratio to arrive at the 70% cacao content dark chocolate that recipes frequently call for. In other words, if a recipe calls for 4 ounces (or 113.5 grams) of 70% cacao chocolate, you can use 3 ounces (84 grams) of 60% and 1 ounce (28 grams) of 100%.

Conveniently, each square of the Ghirardelli 60% and 100% bars weighs .5 ounce (14 grams), so usually you won’t even need a scale.

Cooks Without Borders’ commitment to your safety

At Cooks Without Borders, we care deeply about health (yours and ours), and about the safety of the recipes we publish. In service of that, we examined how the results of the Consumer Reports and As You Sow findings line up with the amounts and types of chocolate we call for in our recipes, and we are in process of updating our existing recipes accordingly — including information about how to make them safe.

We have not published any new recipes that include chocolate since dark chocolate’s lead and cadmium problem came to light in late 2022. Going forward, we will mention the dangers associated with dark chocolate in the headnote of any new recipes or stories that involve the ingredient, and offer suggestions for safer brands when we do write about chocolate.

Looking for a chocolate recipe that’s already been updated? We thought you might enjoy The Mexican Chocolate Situation.

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Recipe of the Day: Chicken Thighs with Savoy Cabbage and Turnips

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By Leslie Brenner

I’m a sucker for Savoy cabbage — those gorgeous crinkly orbs that are in season in winter — and I adore turnips. Put them together, and I’m in heaven.

This one-pan chicken dinner starring the dynamic duo has so much going for it. Use a sheet pan, and it’s a breeze. Use a roasting pan, and you can deglaze the pan for a quick sauce that turns it easily into dinner-party fare. Either way, powdered shiitake mushrooms boost the dish with umami. Fennel seeds give it pizzazz.

The dish is very adaptable. Throw in some whole cremini or white mushrooms, if you’ve got ‘em (at the same time as the cabbage goes in). Use rapini if you can’t find Savoy cabbage, or even broccoli. Add quartered or halved shallots or onions (same time as the turnips). Or use potatoes if you’re not a turnip fan.

If you liked this story and recipe, we think you’ll enjoy:

RECIPE: Claudia Roden’s Chicken with Olives and Lemon

RECIPE: Sheet Pan Chicken with Harissa

RECIPE: Italian Sausages with Roasted Cauliflower

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A perfect French winter salad that marries frisée, lardons and Roquefort

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Leslie Brenner

You know that classic French bistro salad of frisée, lardons and a poached egg? Known in France as salade lyonnaise, it’s wonderful. But I’m not always in the mood for a runny egg to start off dinner.

I definitely don’t often feel like carefully poaching four eggs to top salads when I’m cooking for friends or family. Too stressful!)

For those times when that salad is the right vibe but you’re not up for a poached egg situation, this salad sings. Bits of Roquefort stand in for the egg, adding rich umami. You get bites of the fluffy frisée tangled with a little of that cheese and a bacon lardon — set off by a lightly zingy sherry-shallot vinaigrette. It’s kind of perfect, and you’re not stressed.

Would you find this salad in France? Probably; it has such a bistro feel. But it’s really a cross between that salad lyonnaise and another classic, endives with Roquefort, walnuts and apple.

In any case, it’s pretty easy and very adaptable. You can swap endive or escarole for the frisée, which isn’t always easy to find. And just about any kind of blue cheese will do, as long as it’s not too creamy (you want it to crumble a bit). Bleu d’Auvergne or Fourme d’Ambert are good candidates; or use an American blue, such as Maytag.

Depending on where you live, slab bacon might not be easy to find, either (in recent years, I’m seeing it much less in my neck of the woods). If you can’t get it, you can use pancetta, or even sliced bacon.

However you spin the thing, it’s way better than the sum of its parts — a dream of a winter salad.

If you like this, we think you’ll enjoy:

RECIPE: Escarole Salad with Egg and Crispy Prosciutto

RECIPE: Shaved Brussels Sprouts with Bacon Vinaigrette

EXPLORE: All Cooks Without Borders salad recipes

EXPLORE: All Cooks Without Borders French recipes

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Recipe of the Day: Shrimp Gỏi Cuốn (Summer Rolls)

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By Leslie Brenner

When we’re craving something fresh and herbal, shrimp summer rolls — gỏi cuốn — always hit the spot.

Lay out the fillings — poached shrimp, raw herbs, lettuce and boiled rice stick noodles — in the middle of the table, and let everyone dip their rice paper wrapper in water and roll their own. Serve them with peanut dipping sauce (tương chấm gỏi cuốn); the recipe for that follows the summer roll recipe.

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Recipe of the Day: Tinga de Pollo (Chicken Tinga)

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By Leslie Brenner

“The first recipe any Mexican will cook as soon as they move out of their parents’ home and live on their own is chicken tinga.” That’s according to Enrique Olvera, Mexico’s most famous chef. He and his co-authors included their recipe for it in the “Weekday Meals” chapter of their 2019 cookbook Tu Casa Mi Casa: Mexican Recipes for the Home Cook.

They suggest serving it the first night as a soupy stew, on top of rice and accompanied by tortillas. (Sold!) On following days, you can reduce it down a bit, and use it to fill tacos (either with tortillas you make yourself or storebought ones). Or spooned onto a crisp tostada, layered with shredded lettuce, crumbled queso fresco, salsa verde and a squiggle of crema.

It’s very easy to make — hence its popularity as a recipe for new cooks. Highly recommend!

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Five feel-good recipes to deliciously kick-start January

Swiss Chard with Chickpeas and Yogurt from ‘Ottolenghi Simple’

By Leslie Brenner

We’ve had our fun. Now it’s time to eat to feel great. Here are five recipes that do the trick with panache.

Ottolenghi’s Chickpeas and Swiss Chard with Yogurt

Hearty and warming, this sauté of chickpeas, Swiss chard, onion, roasted carrots, cumin and caraway seeds gets a nice dollop of yogurt for contrast, and lots of fresh cilantro or parsley and mint. With tons of flavor, it’s comes to the table without much fuss (the chickpeas are canned) — perfect for a weeknight. It’s from Ottolenghi Simple.

Hannah Che's Fragrant Dressed Tofu

Briefly blanched tofu that gets tossed with salt and sesame oil and folded with herbs is a type of Chinese dish known as liangban. This one comes from The Vegan Chinese Kitchen by Hannah Che. In the summer, you can serve the dish chilled; this time of year it’s lovely when it’s still warm.

Joan’s Chicken Soup

If feeling good means feeling better, chicken soup is the answer. At my house, it’s my mom’s, without question. This is the chicken soup I grew up with, and the one I make when someone in my family is under the weather. It’s delicious and soul-soothing.

Wilted Dandelion Greens Salad

This Lebanese salad, known as hinbe, is a family recipe too; it comes from chef Rose Previte’s cookbook Maydān. Previte is chef and owner of the renowned Washington, D.C. restaurant of the same name (and several others). In her headnote, she tells the story of picking wild dandelion greens by the side of the road with her parents when she was a kid; her mom would then prepare it this way — sautéed in olive oil with garlic and finished with a squeeze of lemon. Fried shallots go on top. Dandelion greens are said to be the most nutritionally dense plant that exists, making this salad super restorative.

Quinoa, Pea and Mint Tabbouleh

I’m never without at least a couple of bags of frozen petit peas, and this salad is one of the reasons. Made with quinoa, red onion, mint and a lot of parsley, it’s absolutely delicious. Did you know that peas offer outstanding health benefits? But that’s kind of beside the point — it’s also lip-smackingly good.

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