Simmer

This classic Mexican soup is the perfect solution for leftovers—stale tortillas, cold chicken, and overly ripe tomatoes. It can be garnished with a variety of toppings, from the classic avocado and cheese to steamed greens.

Though there are similar rice-and-squid-ink dishes throughout the northern Mediterranean, I was introduced to this dish by a Croatian, so it is that country that gets the credit; Spaniards and Italians will no doubt be offended. The origins hardly matter, however; this is a wonderful and intensely flavorful dish. It’s unusual, too, for a few reasons: it’s a no-stir (or, to be more precise, a low-stir) risotto; it’s jet black; and it combines cheese and seafood, which is not exactly common and, for many of us—usually including me—a no-no. But it’s also easy, delicious, and striking, a perfect dish for entertaining. Serve it with a simple salad, a white wine from northeastern Italy, Austria, or, if you can find one, Croatia, and fresh fruit for dessert. You can find squid ink in small packages at fancy fish markets or European specialty shops (or, of course, on the Internet); it’s shelf-stable though it must be refrigerated and relatively inexpensive. And though its taste is pure squid, it’s the dramatic color that matters most.

The subtle blend of sweet, creamy, and sharp flavors in this Thai classic makes it one of the first Thai dishes most people learn to love. Although the best version I ever had began with cracking real coconuts—a chore I wouldn’t wish on an enemy—if you make coconut milk from dried coconut or use canned coconut milk, the dish is easy to re-create at home and really great. For information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla), see page 500.

In all but the best restaurants, risotto is abused—cooked in advance, baked, and who knows what else—so if you have never made risotto at home, you are in for a treat. It takes a little patience and a little practice, but it is not a difficult process at all. True risotto alla Milanese contains—indeed, features—bone marrow, but don’t be discouraged if you cannot (or will not) deal with that. Risotto is wonderful without it, and prosciutto makes an adequate substitute. What you do need are Arborio rice (now sold everywhere, but still best purchased in Italian markets), real saffron, and, ideally, good, homemade stock. (Having said that, see my “bare-bones” variation.) I might add this: After years of trying every possible technique to make my risotto as creamy as the best I’d ever had, I realized that the “secret” was large quantities of butter. Don’t hold back unless you must.

One of the many recipes that bridge the short distance between Chinese and Italian cooking. The main recipe makes a light soup that complements stir-fry dishes well; the Italian variation is substantial enough to serve as a light main course.

This popular soup—a fun dish for a casual meal since the corn is left on the cob—is traditionally seasoned with the fragrant local herb guascas. Unfortunately, I’ve only rarely seen guascas in the States, so I use a combination of cumin and thyme, which approximates the real thing. Fortunately, you can often find yucca, also known as cassava, at most major supermarkets. This root vegetable, native to South America and largely grown in Africa and the Caribbean, has a subtle sweetness, not unlike yams. If you can find it, try the variation. Serve with arepas (page 575) or crusty bread.

A staple in Mexico, often garnished with diced raw onion, avocado, tomato, and a squeeze of lime. You can make the chipotle paste by buying canned chipotles in adobo (sold at almost all Latin markets and many supermarkets) and simply whizzing them in a blender. The results, however, are searingly, blindingly hot and not at all like what you get in restaurants in Mexico, where the paste is made from scratch. Fortunately, making the paste from scratch takes all of 20 minutes, 10 of which are spent soaking dried chipotles (available at most places that sell dried chiles or online at www.penzeys.com and other mail order sources). The lovely brick-red paste, used in small quantities, converts the blandest chicken soup into something hot, smoky, and delicious. Leftover paste is also great on broiled or grilled chicken or pork or stirred—again, in small quantities—into poached or steamed vegetables.

Non-Japanese may think of this as Japanese paella. Like paella, it may be made with or without seafood. Like paella, it relies on good ingredients, including rice and stock, and, like paella, it’s pretty straightforward to prepare and easy to vary. (You can make the recipe below not only with chicken but with almost any combination of seafood. You can also make it with vegetables; see page 510.) There is, however, a critical difference. Whereas paella usually relies on chicken stock, wine, and tomatoes, Kayaku Gohan (along with, it seems, about a million other dishes in Japan) uses dashi. This isn’t a problem, since dashi is easily made, as long as you stock kelp, a dried seaweed also known as kombu, and dried bonito flakes (bonito is related to tuna). Fortunately, each of these ingredients keeps forever, and each is readily available at Asian markets.

A great place to use leftovers and to improvise. Plenty of lime, raw onion, and cilantro are key; if you include them in abundance, the soup will be delicious and authentic. Though I have never seen it in Mexico, you could use vegetable stock here if you prefer.

Paella isn’t always bright yellow rice studded with overcooked seafood—it’s not even always made with seafood. Here’s a great version made with chicken, chorizo, and mushrooms that I learned from Spanish chef Jose Andres, based in Washington, DC. It’s a hearty one-dish meal impressive enough for any company.

Every seaside culture has its own fish stew, but in the West, bouillabaisse is the best known. Older recipes are quite specific about the kind of fish and the technique, but in my experience bouillabaisse, no matter how wonderful, is neither more nor less than a highly seasoned soup made with the day’s catch. So vary this recipe according to what you find at the store (or what you bring home from a day’s fishing).

A simple version of Bouillabaisse (page 138) that uses only one type of fish and is thickened by aïoli, the wonderful garlicky mayonnaise of Provence and Liguria (also called “the Italian Riviera”). Ask your fishmonger to gut and fillet the fish and to give you the head and bones for the stock, which of course can be made in advance. (Within limits you can use as many heads and bones as you like. See Fish Stock, page 161.) Serve this stew with crusty bread and a salad.

Unlike the viscous and peppery Chinese version of this soup on page 145, this one is brothlike and derives its heat from chiles and its intriguing sour flavor from lime and lemongrass. It’s the Southeast Asian equivalent of chicken soup, often eaten to treat a cold. See page 500 for information on nam pla.

Somewhere in between a rice side dish and a one-pot meal—a form of paella, really—this can serve as either. A few bits of chicken browned along with the chorizo will go a long way. I love this with the warm taste of mild chile powder, but you can use hotter chiles or omit them entirely.

This soup is incredibly simple and quick and as different from American clam chowder as it could possibly be. Rather than overwhelming the flavor of the clams with cream or tomatoes, here the seaside flavors of the clams are accented subtly with a seaweed-based broth. More on seaweed on page 483. Use the smallest hardshell clams you can find (do not use steamers) and, before cooking, discard clams with broken shells or shells that are not tightly closed. Be sure to wash the clams thoroughly—no trace of sand should remain on their shells. Any clams that do not open during the cooking process can be pried open with a dull knife at the table.

A kind of pilaf, really, but one that has become its own category, the mother of dishes ranging from Paella (page 519) to Coconut Rice and Beans (page 516). I cannot resist sautéing the rice in oil or butter first, but it’s not entirely necessary; see the simpler variation. (You can also use any of the variations on Pilaf, Many Ways, page 513.) Turmeric is a common and an inexpensive but one-dimensional substitute for saffron; it has none of the depth of flavor, though the color is terrific. You can put in a few roasted red peppers (page 470) or canned “pimientos” also, if you like; add them along with the rice. This is a side dish that has far-ranging applications but is especially fine with soupy beans.

This delicate soup is classy yet simple, and leaving the mussels in their shells makes for a beautiful presentation; a touch of cream is a nice addition but an optional one. Serve this with a loaf of good, crusty bread; soaking the bread in the broth is one of this dish’s great pleasures. You can transform this into an entree, using pasta; see the variation.

This is a magnificent rice dish, one that could overwhelm other dishes with which you serve it. Therefore, it’s best to give it its due and accompany it with a couple of grilled sausages or very simply cooked steak, chicken, or shrimp.

Quite similar to the beef soup recipe on page 145, except at the outset, when shallots are browned to give the soup a little extra color and complexity.

An unusual and quite useful plantain recipe, usually associated with Cuba. Like many soups, this one can be made in advance and reheated, though you’ll probably want to add a little more lime juice just before serving for freshness. See page 623 for information on plantains.