Quick

You might scoff at rice balls, and their close cousins, rice sandwiches, but I know plenty of people (self included) who lust after them. Even at their simplest—plain boiled rice, brushed with a little soy sauce and wrapped in a piece of nori—there is something enormously appealing about them. When you try a few of the variations, you’ll find one you like as well. Although there are several different shapes into which the Japanese form rice balls, there is really only one important rule to remember: press the rice just firmly enough to have it hold together; you do not want a tough, packed ball but a loose association of individual clumps. Serve this as a side dish with Japanese food, or as an appetizer.

I had this as a late-night snack in Japan, but it’s great at breakfast, too, a soothing, homey soup that is also good made with tofu or leftover chicken. Even if you don’t have dashi, you can execute this dish in a half hour or so. You can make fresh rice for this, of course, but if you use leftover rice—which is fine—heat it first; the microwave does a fine job of this. Some Japanese make small individual omelets for each bowl, but others use the easier, if somewhat odd, technique of cooking the egg in the soup, as here.

A simple rice preparation that can serve as a great side dish for a variety of Japanese (and other) dishes. If you don’t have shiso, use fresh mint, basil, cilantro, or a combination.

This is different from most garlic soups, not only for the addition of plenty of cilantro (parsley is more common, yet this is traditional, too) but also because the garlic-cilantro mixture is uncooked except by the heat of the broth poured over it, so it remains quite strong. If you have good beef or chicken stock, use it both to poach the eggs and as the base of the soup. And if you have an extra 5 minutes, don’t toast the bread in a toaster but brown it lightly in a skillet on both sides in olive oil—there’s nothing more delicious.

The creamy, rich, and mildly spicy flavor of this soup makes it a great starter before Indian entrees like Crunchy Curried Shrimp or Fish (page 217) or Patra ni Machhi (page 231).

The only thing this has in common with the familiar European-style cucumber soups is the cucumber. Otherwise the ingredients—from the dashi to the soy sauce—are strictly Asian. This sublimely refreshing soup can be served hot or cold. When chilled, it’s especially good with a few pieces of shrimp added to each bowl.

Mangoes abound not only in the Caribbean but also, these days, in the United States. When they’re cheap (in Latin markets they’re often four for a dollar) there is no better use for them than this sweet soup, which can be served as an appetizer, especially in hot weather (or for dessert; see the variation). It’s also lovely at Sunday brunch.

Here the shopping is more challenging than the cooking, but it’s worth the hunt: this tart rice preparation goes well with almost all Japanese food. It’s pretty as well. Umeboshi (pickled plum) is available at all Japanese markets. Shiso is a seasonal herb that you may have trouble finding in winter; substitute a mixture of basil and mint or just one or the other.You can also use a rice cooker to cook the rice here.

This is an unusual soup, with flavors that may mystify but undoubtedly will please your guests. It’s often served cold—and called a gazpacho—but I like it equally well hot.

Originally an Indian vegetable soup, this became popular among British colonialists, who added chicken to the mix. I like it better in something approaching its original form, but see the variations for more substantial versions.

Leftover rice is not only acceptable here but practically mandatory: fresh or warm rice does not fry well, but clumps together and sticks to the wok. You need cold, stale rice, which separates during cooking. If you have neither roast pork (even the Cuban Lechon Asado, page 375, will work) nor Chinese sausage, ham is a fine substitute. No meat at all is fine, too, of course; see the variations.

This improvement on the American Chinese restaurant classic has one thing in common with egg-drop soup: when properly made, the egg looks like delicate flowers. While many versions of this soup are thickened with cornstarch, I think the egg thickens the broth sufficiently. Like the Chicken and Watercress Soup on page 140, this has an Italian relative; see the variation. Any of these soups can be made more substantial by adding some shredded leftover chicken—or diced raw chicken, added while the stock is heating; don’t add the egg until the chicken is just about cooked.

This northern European sour soup makes a rich, wonderful, and full-bodied starter. The acidity of lemon complements the richness and near-sweetness of the stock, and the combination is simply amazing. For Greek egg-lemon soup, see the preceding recipe.

I first ate this soupy stew (or stewy soup) at a lunch counter in Istanbul and was taken by its depth of flavor. It seemed that either the whole was greater than the sum of its parts or there were some hidden ingredients. It turned out to be the former, or nearly so; through an interpreter, I learned that the dish did not begin with stock but with water and that the only ingredient I was not seeing was a bit of garlic. The cook offered that one might add a bit of butter for richness but that he hadn’t done so with this batch. If you want to turn this into a more filling main course, use stock instead of water, add some cubed boneless chicken or lamb, season it with a little cumin or dill, and finish it with lemon. You’ll wind up with a bigger, more substantial Turkish-style stew, though not necessarily a better one.

The thyme really shines in this soup, which is unusual for its use of sautéed apples as a slightly crisp, sweet garnish. In the old days, during times of bounty, a piece of meat would be added with the cabbage; you can do that too, but the cooking process will get much longer. I find this light, first-course soup much more useful without it.

The key to good tapenade, not surprisingly, is good olives. I like the oil-cured kind for this, but they must not be too dried out or they become unpleasantly acrid, and no amount of olive oil can save them. So taste one before buying. (Regular canned black olives are fine too if you can’t find olives in bulk.) In Provence, considered its home, tapenade is used mostly as a spread for plain toasted bread or Crostini (page 41). But it’s also great as a dip for raw vegetables, on sandwiches of any type, or as a quick spread to put on meat or fish before roasting or after grilling or broiling. It will keep, refrigerated, for about a month; always bring back to room temperature before serving.

Like the Uncooked Tomato-Mustard Sauce on page 606, this is often used to lend flavor to the ultrabland bollito misto, boiled mixed meats. But it’s a perfect sauce for roasted or poached fish and can even be thinned with more olive oil to make a salad dressing.

Parsley puree is almost universal, but this is the Spanish version, sharp, garlicky, and great with fish or any grilled meat. There are a couple of different ways to make parsley puree, and other herbs can be used in the same way (pesto is very closely related).

Obviously not a sauce for everyone. But in Liguria, where it seems people eat anchovies daily, it’s popular. An incredibly easy sauce to spice up grilled chicken or fish—swordfish, for example—whether hot or cold.

I love this over pasta, but it’s also good used as you would salsa, hot or cold: over grilled or poached fish, meat, or poultry, or even as a dip. Be sure, one day, to try the Spanish version (page 606).