Weeknight Meals

The process for making these salmon burgers is simple as long as you have a food processor. A portion of the salmon is finely ground, almost pureed; the machine takes care of that in about thirty seconds. Then the rest of the fish is chopped, by pulsing the machine on and off a few times. The two-step grinding process means that those flavorings that you want finely minced, like garlic or ginger, can go in with the first batch of salmon; those that should be left coarse, like onion or fresh herbs, can go in with the second batch. The only other trick is to avoid overcooking; this burger, which can be sautéed, broiled, or grilled, is best when the center remains pink (or is it orange?)—two or three minutes per side does the trick.

One of the classic moles of Oaxaca, now popular throughout Mexico. Though no mole is simple, this is among the easiest and most straightforward, something you can actually consider making on a weeknight (especially if you’re an experienced cook and can brown the chicken and make the sauce at the same time). To be entirely authentic—or, at least, more authentic, since true authenticity is never really possible north of the border—you should roast most of the sauce ingredients before combining them in the skillet. Toast the almonds in a dry skillet, shaking occasionally, until fragrant; heat the peeled garlic in a dry skillet until lightly browned; roast the onions and tomatoes in a hot oven until blistered; and so on, right down to toasting and grinding fresh whole spices. (In fact, old-style cooks brown unblanched almonds and then peel them.) All of this does make a difference, and if you have the time, please try it. Believe me, though, the mole will be sensational without these steps. If you’ve never cooked with lard, have no fear: It has less saturated fat than butter and is still sold in virtually every supermarket. It remains a wonderful cooking fat. Serve with rice or Arroz a la Mexicana (page 517).

A deceptively easy weeknight chicken dish (as long as you have cooked or canned chickpeas around) with much of the exotic spicing that makes North African cuisine so enjoyable. With the added chickpeas and vegetables, it’s also very nearly a one-pot meal; just serve it with rice or—more in keeping—couscous (page 526) and you’re all set.

Meat to be grilled for shish kebab, usually lamb, is ideally marinated in a paste of yogurt, minced onion, and spices, even if it’s only for a few minutes. If you prefer to eliminate the yogurt, use a couple of tablespoons of olive oil instead. And if you have dried ground sumac—a sour spice found at all Middle Eastern stores—sprinkle a little of it on the meat just before serving (you won’t need the lemon). If you choose to grill other vegetables—tomatoes, peppers, mushrooms, more onions, whatever— skewer them separately. Simply brush them with a little olive oil and sprinkle them with salt and pepper. These skewers, of course, are ideal with Pilaf (page 513). Other cuts of meat you can use here: beef tenderloin (filet mignon) or boneless chicken thighs (which will require a little longer cooking time).

The simplest and easiest way to infuse the flavor of lemongrass into chicken. For the ultraswell version, see Lemongrass Chicken (page 287). Like that dish, this one is great with steamed Sticky Rice (page 508).

When I was served this dish, of alternating bay leaves and chunks of lamb, the bay leaves were fresh (I was told that the world’s best bay leaves are grown around Smyrna, in Turkey). I couldn’t imagine that dried bay leaves would be much less delicious, and indeed they’re not. Either a rice dish or ordinary crusty bread is fine here, along with a salad like Spicy Carrot Salad (page 191), any of the eggplant salads on pages 191–193, or simply some plain roasted peppers or grilled vegetables. Other cuts of meat you can use here: chunks of boneless pork shoulder (which will need somewhat longer cooking) or beef tenderloin (filet mignon).

How wonderful is the marriage between thyme and lamb? So wonderful that this dish conjures up visions of Greeks spit-roasting lamb or goat on rocky hills above the sea, basting it with branches of thyme dipped in olive oil. (Which is not a bad recipe itself, especially if you have the rocky hills and sea.) This lamb is lovely with a rice dish or simply with bread. Note, interestingly, that this recipe is virtually the same as the one that follows—except the flavors are distinctly different. Under many circumstances, I would have made one a variation of the other, but it would have seemed, in this case, to give one or the other short shrift. They’re both great. Other cuts of meat you can use here: thick cuts of “London broil” or flank steak.

Since it is made everywhere, it may be a stretch to call roast chicken “French”—but not to call it one of the simplest of the world’s great recipes. There are three keys to success: One, pay attention to the technique; it works. Two, start with a good chicken (find a free range or kosher chicken you like and stick with it); without it, the technique is wasted. And three, use butter if at all possible; the difference is profound. You can use this technique or any of the variations with baby chicken (poussin) or Cornish hens.

Though you occasionally see this technique in other cuisines, I know of nowhere but Vietnam where caramelized sugar is used as the basis for a savory sauce in such a wide variety of dishes. You see it with pork, beef, shrimp, finfish, chicken, and even frog. You see it in fancy urban restaurants and in rural three-sided structures. Completed by plenty of onions and black pepper, the result is wickedly forceful, decidedly delicious, and, in the sauce’s dark brown glossiness, downright gorgeous, an astonishing creation given the number of ingredients and the time it requires. See page 500 for information on Asian fish sauces like nam pla. Other cuts of meat you can use here: boneless chicken thighs, pork steaks cut from the loin—both of which will require longer cooking times—or any fish or shrimp (see Fish Fillets Poached in Caramel Sauce, page 232). Sticky Rice (page 508) is not entirely traditional here, but it’s great, as is any other plain rice dish. A strong-flavored salad (like Green Papaya Salad, page 198, but without the shrimp) would round things out perfectly.

Teriyaki is an old preparation, but using steak is relatively new, as beef was not widely eaten in Japan until the second half of the twentieth century. So this might be considered a new classic. I love it with a simple salad (you might use Sesame-Miso Dressing, page 190) and perhaps Basmati Rice with Shiso (page 510). Other cuts of meat you can use here: the teriyaki treatment is widely used for chicken, bone in or out (see page 317), pork, and shrimp.

This remains a luxurious dish, though it is quite simple. Traditionally, so many cracked (not ground) black peppercorns are pressed into the meat that they form a crispy crust. For some this is overwhelming. But if you slice the steak before serving, the surface area per bite is not as great. Or you could, of course, use much less pepper.

Said to have been brought to the islands by the Dutch, these are now as deeply ingrained in Japanese cooking as fried chicken is in ours. They are typically served on a simple bed of shredded cabbage, with a commercially prepared tonkatsu sauce. I have re-created the sauce from scratch here, and believe me, it’s far better than the bottled stuff. These can be deep-fried if you prefer (use about 2 inches of oil), but at home most Japanese shallow-fry them, as I do. Other cuts of meat you can use here: veal, chicken, or turkey cutlets.

A laughably simple weeknight dish that packs a lot of flavor. Try to buy shoulder (rib) end pork chops, which will dry out less in the pan than others. Serve with a salad and a cooked vegetable or starch, like any of the mashed potato dishes on page 480. Other cuts of meat you can use here: bone-in chicken thighs (which will require more cooking) or pork medallions cut from the tenderloin (which will cook more quickly).

A Norman recipe, easily identified with the region because of the combination of dairy and meat. It may sound overly rich, but pork is so lean these days that the added fat is welcome, and the taste is incredible. A wonderful dish for midwinter; serve it with simple boiled potatoes or rice and a steamed vegetable. Other cuts of meat you can use here: veal chops or bone-in chicken breasts.

This is a fast stew you can make with a variety of fish—a few scraps if that’s all you have—or with one or more types of prime fish. For example, it’s great with shellfish only: shrimp or a combination of shrimp, scallops, and a mollusk, like mussels (make sure they’re well washed). But you can make it with a single piece of sturdy fish, like monkfish or halibut. In any case, be sure to serve it with plenty of white rice, preferably basmati.

If you have leftover roast pork, especially from Lechon Asado, this is how to use it. Combined with ham, Swiss cheese, and pickles, it makes the classic grilled sandwich of the Latin Caribbean. Though purists insist on Cuban bread (essentially a fairly soft French loaf), the best I ever had was in San Juan, made on a sweet roll. A definite bastardization but one that demonstrated that almost any kind of bread will do and that this sandwich is great in many guises. Ordinary yellow mustard is the norm for this, but consider Dijon or brown mustard instead. Similarly, bad dill pickles are standard, but if you can lay your hands on some half-sour pickles (or use Lightly Pickled Cucumbers, page 455), the results will be better— if less “authentic.”

This is a typical Eastern European dish, rich with flavor, its sweetness tempered by the lemon juice. It makes a nice presentation, especially if you use a meaty fish like carp. The same technique can be applied to any fish fillet: reduce the cooking time to 10 minutes (or less; the fish is done when the point of a thin-bladed knife inserted into the thickest part meets little resistance). You might want some mashed potatoes or rice here, along with a simple salad.

Try to use branches of fresh oregano, marjoram, or fennel here; they really make a tremendous difference. The first two are grown by many gardeners, and a good gardener can probably spare some. Bronze—herb—fennel grows wild all over southern California and is easy to find (it’s also grown by some gardeners). Occasionally you can find one of these in a big bunch at a market, too; you’ll need a big bunch to try the grilling option. In any case, choose a fish with a simple bone structure so it can be served and eaten easily. The best for this purpose are sea bass, red snapper, grouper, striped bass, and mackerel. One advantage in using the oven over the grill is that in roasting you can add some peeled, chunked potatoes to the bottom of the roasting pan as well; they’ll finish cooking along with the onions.

I once thought that poached skate with brown butter was the highest and best use of this relative of shark, but then I began to sauté the fish, which is even better. Which you prefer depends, to some extent, on your tolerance for butter. I offer the sautéed version first and the more classic poached fish as a variation. For either, it’s easiest if you buy skate that has been “filleted,” that is, removed from its central cartilage (if it isn’t, just cook it a little longer; it will practically come off the “bone” by itself). But never, ever buy skate that has not been skinned; you simply will not get it off unless you resort to a pair of pliers—and even then it won’t be easy. This is a rich dish; serve it with salad and a light vegetable, no more, and you’ll be satisfied.

I had a dish similar to this one in Provence at least twenty years ago and have never stopped making it. Few preparations do as much justice to dark-fleshed fish. Like many “grilled” dishes, this one is better made in the broiler, where you have far more control. A potato gratin, like the one on page 482, would be suitable here, as would Peasant-Style Potatoes (page 477). Of course, a simple vegetable dish or two would also be wonderful, as mackerel is pretty rich in its own right.