Simmer

Sadly, throughout Mexico, you see rice cooked with mixed frozen vegetables Birds Eye rice, essentially. Fortunately, the real thing is not that difficult to make and it’s infinitely better.

This unusual soup is popular in the Dutch Caribbean and the island of St. Kitts, where peanuts are called—as they are in much of the world—groundnuts. Though many groundnuts have a stronger flavor than American varieties, you can use any unsalted roasted peanuts—or even peanut butter—in this rich soup.

Unlike the often inedible rice that comes on every combo platter of tacos or enchiladas in this country (and, increasingly and sadly, in Mexico as well), this is the real thing. It’s the perfect side dish with any Mexican meal, especially when paired with Refried Beans (page 438). Whereas Spanish rice gets its color and flavor from saffron, the source here is fresh tomatoes.

Throughout the northern Mediterranean littoral, chestnuts not only grow on trees; they fall to the ground each autumn and are, for many people, a free crop. (They once did the same on this continent, but a blight wiped them out.) The first fall I visited northern Italy, I saw them drop and realized there were more than anyone could possibly eat. As a result, they are used in a much wider array of dishes there than they are here. This is a rich soup, one that can be made in a matter of minutes with cooked, frozen, or even canned chestnuts, and the results are inevitably good. Add a little splash of port just before serving to give this a bit of a kick.

There are as many versions of pancotta—cooked bread—as there are towns in Italy (and, it seems sometimes, Italian Americans); so feel free to improvise. Some versions are quite dry, some incorporate cooked white beans, and some are run under the broiler just before serving, just to give you a few ideas. This is the perfect way to use leftover bread, though you can also make it with fresh bread.

A different type of coconut rice, one that is made fairly sweet but served with savory (even spicy) foods, like Stewed Lamb Shanks with Mushrooms and Pasilla Chile Sauce (page 414). You can add about 1/3 cup raisins or corn or thinly sliced and lightly browned ripe plantains (page 472) or even a bit of cinnamon.

When families in Mexico give up meat—either for Lent or for other reasons—they turn to soups like this one. You might have trouble finding fresh favas, though Latin markets frequently stock them, especially in spring, and I’ve even seen them at supermarkets in recent years. Their wonderful flavor has no exact match, but fresh peas are a good substitute. The best chile for this dish is the mildly hot dried chile negro; it’s best when toasted, which is an easy enough process: put the chiles in a dry, ungreased skillet over medium heat and cook, turning as each side browns, until browned and fragrant, 5 to 10 minutes.

Brilliant orange pumpkinlike squash fill the vegetable stands of Morocco and most other Mediterranean countries every fall, and they show up in stews, couscous, pasta, and soups like this.You may find the same squash in the States, but butternut, acorn, or sugar pumpkin—pumpkin grown for flavor, not size—are perfect substitutes and easy enough to find. (Canned pumpkin is an acceptable if not ideal alternative; drain it well.) Make this up to a day in advance, reserving the cream and cilantro to add just before serving.

I call this Caribbean because that’s where I first had it, but not surprisingly it’s a staple in much of Southeast Asia as well. Great with jasmine rice, it’s perfectly fine with any other short- or long-grain rice and can be varied in many ways. If you like, garnish with some chopped cashews or peanuts. I love this with spicy stews.

A substantial soup (if you use chicken stock instead of water, it will be even more so) and a perfect winter lunch or a solid dinner when teamed with a light grilled dish, like Grilled Swordfish Rémoulade (page 256) or “Grilled” Mackerel with Garlic and Rosemary (page 266). Remember, though, that chickpeas can take a long time to cook, so if you have any inkling you’re going to make this soup, cook the chickpeas in advance. (Canned chickpeas are also good, or you can use lentils for speed; see the variation.) This soup can be refrigerated for a few days and reheated before serving, but it’s best to add the pasta at the last minute.

Most people seem to adore chickpeas, and one of their strongest attributes is that, unlike other dried legumes, they produce delicious cooking liquid. So if you lack stock for this dish, don’t worry about it. But—and this is true for the several chickpea recipes that follow as well as this one—the cooking time for chickpeas is unpredictable. Cook the beans the day before you plan to make the soup if at all possible, or at least soak them for several hours to reduce the cooking time (or, in a pinch, use canned chickpeas). Once they’re done, the cooking time is just a few minutes. If you are so inclined, this soup remains equally authentic and becomes more substantial if you add 1/2 to 1 pound browned sausage chunks. You can brown the sausage right before the onions, in the same skillet.

The procedure for basic pilaf—and here I’m focusing on the Middle Eastern rather than the Indian variety—is much simpler than that for risotto but truly no less rewarding. And like risotto’s, its technique can lead you to many different dishes; note the variations, which are just a fraction of what you can do. Long-grain rice (basmati is best) is the one to use here. Leftover pilaf can be successfully reheated in a microwave; no kidding. Just add a tiny bit of water first.

A staple of homes in Cuba and much of the rest of the Caribbean, where tomatoes are available year-round, this soup clearly derives from the classic Mediterranean “boiled water” (see the variation), a soup based on garlic, bread, and whatever else can be found. Despite its humble origins, this is a wonderful dish for entertaining (be sure to warn your guests that the bowls are hot!).

Rice and lentils are both daily fare in much of India, but rarely are they cooked together. An exception is made for the quite-quick-cooking red lentils, which are prepared in a manner not unlike that used in the Middle East.

This is one of those soups that contain so few ingredients that it’s really best to use good stock as opposed to canned broth. (On the other hand, the broth should not be too strong, or it will overwhelm the delicate, fresh pasta.) If you already have fresh pasta dough prepared for another dish, you can substitute it for the passatelli, but this stuff is worth making for its own sake—and easy.

Every culture that relies on rice mixes other common ingredients into it, to boost both flavor and nutrition. Most people are familiar with Fried Rice (page 506) and Coconut Rice (page 516), but this recipe is quite different from those. If you make this dish with red beans only, use all the bean-cooking liquid for the rice; it will give it a lovely pink tinge.

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.

At its most basic, jook is soupy rice, perhaps with some salt or soy sauce. Conceptually, this would not appeal to most Americans, and the notion of congee did not appeal to me for many years. Yet when it was first served to me I thought it miraculous—of course it had a few more ingredients—and it turns out to be even better when made at home, where you can cook the rice in stock rather than water. A great part of a Chinese feast, as well as a wonderful breakfast or lunch.

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.