Zucchini

Chipotle in adobo sauce can be found in both small and large cans. They are smoked dried jalapeño peppers that are packed with flavor! In the can, they are soft and packed in vinegar and spices. If heat is not your thing, then use half of one chipotle pepper. The remainder of the chipotles can be frozen in a resealable plastic bag for other uses such as adding a smoky, spicy flavor to soups and stews or shaking up and waking up your everyday guacamole.

I often throw holiday parties with a casual theme. This dish was the centerpiece of a holiday-style Make Your Own Take-out gathering. You will never find anything like this delivered to your door in a brown paper sack, but if you do a little bit of chopping you’ll be famous for many holidays to come. P.S. Don’t wait for a holiday to make it.

Like the title says, this is lasagna but it’s not. Veggie lasagna is often served up layered with a creamy white sauce and seasonal vegetables. This dish incorporates vegetables, ricotta, and a just-creamy-enough sauce tossed with pasta—without all the work and the long baking time.

This is my favorite fish dish in the book. Try it and you’ll taste why.

With veggies and pasta in one dish, there’s no need to make any sides—plus, you only have to wash one pot!

This is a pizza I discovered on a trip to Rome as I wandered the side streets with my mom. It became such a favorite of mine that, on a return trip I made in the cold late fall, I think I ate hot, half-kilo blocks of it every day for a week. This is my at-home version. I love the feeling of giant slices of this hanging from my mouth. It really brings me back to Roman Holidays.

This one is especially good at summer’s end.

A Römertopf, a porous clay pot developed in the 1960s by a German company, is often used in Alsace and southern Germany for long- simmering stews. These stews may be akin to Alsatian baeckeoffe, a pot of meat (usually beef, pork, and veal along with calf or pig feet) mixed with potatoes, marinated in white wine, and cooked in the oven all day long, on Mondays, when the women traditionally do the wash. Agar Lippmann (see page 258) remembers her mother in Alsace making the Sabbath stew in a baeckeoffe, using a mix of flour and water to make a kind of glue to really seal the lid. When I was having lunch at Robert and Evelyne Moos’s house in Annecy, they used a Römertopf to make a similar lamb stew for me. Eveline ceremoniously brought the dish to the table, and in front of all of us, took off the top so that we were enveloped in the steam and aromas of the finished dish.

When I was visiting the Luberon, we wound our way up to the top of the hillop village of Bonnieux and stopped at the Musée de la Boulangerie. There, in an ancient house, the history of bread and baking is traced. Among the ancient pots and pans were shallow unglazed earthenware bowls called at the museum “tians,” which were and are used much like Dutch ovens for cooking vegetables in the embers of a fire. In the south of France, there are many recipes for tians, layered casseroles of vegetables sometimes mixed with eggs and sometimes with rice and served in the Jewish way as a main course for a dairy meal. In this recipe, a nice substitute for the spinach would be Swiss chard, also a vegetable used since antiquity.

The secret of Hélène’s ratatouille is to cook the vegetables separately in the oven, intensifying their individual flavors. This may seem like using a lot of pans, but it is mostly waiting time. She assured me, “You can just let vegetables cook themselves and gently stir them all together.” The word “ratatouille” is related to the word touiller and the Latin tudiculare, meaning “to stir,” “crush,” or “toss.” After being cooked, the vegetables were originally assembled in a rectangular earthenware tian casserole, then gratinéed, and served hot or cold on the Sabbath. Now the cooked eggplant, pepper, zucchini, and tomato may be served together, or separately as individual salads. Ratatouille is similar to the Middle Eastern and North African dish tchoukchouka (see page 94), meaning “to shake up,” in both Hebrew and Arabic, and to other very old Mediterranean dishes of zucchini and eggplant. Hélène seasons her version with a hot but not fiery Basque pepper called piment d’Espelette, from Espelette, a town near her native Toulouse. If you don’t have piment d’Espelette, you can use hot paprika or New Mexico red chili powder.

For Women, cookbook are often memories of their mothers. Daisy Taïeb, the mother of two daughters, wrote Les Fêtes Juives à Tunis Racontées à Mes Filles (Jewish Holidays in Tunis as Told to My Daughters). “My daughters wanted to learn the religious customs in Tunis, like the fète des filles, a festival where the girls go to the synagogue all in white,” she told me. “Soon, with rapid Frenchification and assimilation, you will be able to learn about these traditions only in museums.” One day when I was in Nice, I watched Madame Taïeb cook her famous meatballs stuffed into vegetables. She was making them for Friday night dinner, to serve with couscous. Though I had expected a quiet, grandmotherly woman, I found her to be a trim, stylish lady who had taken the Dale Carnegie course on public speaking. She is the president of the French version of the Jewish Federation in Nice, and the representative of B’nai B’rith on the Côte d’Azur. These days, Madame Taïeb, who has lived alone since her husband’s death, invites people in for Sabbath dinner. “In Tunisia, you have the same foods as in Nice— fish, vegetables, spices— so it is not difficult to make the recipes,” she told me. “But you have to use your hands to judge, not your eyes, when making meatballs.” For Madame Taïeb, couscous with meatballs stuffed into peppers, artichoke bottoms, and eggplants, one of my favorite dishes, is symbolic of family, remembrance, and Friday night dinners.

On a late-june evening, I entered a courtyard in the Fifth Arrondissement, right near the picturesque Rue Mouffetard, one of my favorite streets in Paris when I was a student there so many years ago. Beyond the courtyard, I found myself in a large garden in front of an apartment building. After climbing two flights of stairs, I arrived at the home of Irving Petlin, an American artist, and his beautiful wife, Sarah. The two expats have lived here on and off since 1959. Sarah frequents the local markets, going to the Place Monge for her onions and garlic, making sure she visits her potato man from North Africa. Having chosen peonies for the table, she arranged them in a vase next to a big bowl of ripe cherries, making her table, with the Panthéon in the background, as beautiful as a perfectly orchestrated still life. At the meal, I especially liked the soup, which calls for lettuce leaves—a good way, I thought, of using up the tougher outer leaves that most of us discard, but which still have a lot of flavor. The French have a long tradition of herb- and- salad soup, something Americans should be increasingly interested in, given all the new wonderful greens we’re growing in our backyards and finding at farmers’ markets. I often replace the zucchini with eggplant and substitute other herbs that are available in my summer garden. This soup is also delicious served warm in the winter.

Even though this is called a white curry, it is slightly yellowish in color from the small amount of turmeric in it. In Sri Lanka, it is made with ridge gourd, which looks like a ridged, long, slightly curving cucumber, pointy at the ends. It is sold in Indian, Southeast Asian, and Chinese markets. If you can find it, peel it with a peeler, concentrating mostly on the high ridges, and then cut it crosswise into 3/4-inch segments. It cooks in about 3 minutes. I have used zucchini instead because it is just as good and we can all get it easily. Serve with rice and perhaps Stir-Fried Chettinad Chicken.

Here is how my family in India prepared our everyday summer squash. It was utterly simple and utterly good. The squash itself was different, shaped liked a bowling pin and slightly curled up, but the taste and texture were similar. I like to use yellow squash and zucchini together, but you could use just one or the other. This dish may be served hot at most Indian meals, and cold as a salad.

I have not measured out the spices in this recipe, since all you do is sprinkle them over the top. A little more, a little less hardly makes any difference. Serve this with curries or grilled or baked meats.

A delicious version, to be served hot with plain rice or with roz bil shaghria (rice with vermicelli, page 340).

This was a family favorite.