South Asian

This variation of Biryani (preceding recipe) is spicier, creamier, and somewhat more complicated. Go easy on the cayenne: this is meant to be a fragrant dish, not a fiery one. Serve with Dal (page 433) or any Indian-style vegetable.

When you open the lid of a pot containing good biryani—the Indian equivalent of arroz con pollo or paella—the smell should drive you wild: chicken (or lamb), butter, and spices should dominate, followed by the subtle aroma of basmati rice. When it’s prepared correctly, it seems to me, you can even smell the salt. This is one of India’s—indeed the world’s—great dishes, and yet too often in restaurants it is underwhelming, underspiced, and made without care. The spice mixture makes the dish exotic, but though it must be made carefully it isn’t difficult. (The chicken isn’t browned, which actually makes it easier than many similar preparations.) One key is to use real butter (in sufficient quantity; I’m sure the ultimate biryani has more butter than this version) and good spices: cardamom in the pod, whole cloves, cinnamon stick, and real saffron. Good coarse salt doesn’t hurt either and, needless to say, the better the chicken, the happier you’ll be when you bite into it. It’s also important to leave the lid on as much as possible. I’m not one of these people who believes that rice must be cooked undisturbed (on the contrary, I think it stands up to all kinds of abuse), but in this instance you want to make sure the chicken cooks fairly quickly and that as much of the aroma as possible remains in the pot. The goal, remember, is to smell everything. Serve with Dal (page 433) or any Indian-style vegetable.

In a largely vegetarian country, eggs take on more importance than they have traditionally in the States. Indians eat eggs in a variety of interesting ways and at all meals. Here they’re hard-cooked, simmered in a spicy tomato sauce, and served as a main course. It’s a great, easy, and inexpensive weeknight dish. Serve with Pilaf (page 513) or another rice preparation.

You cannot make “authentic” tandoori chicken without a tandoor, the clay oven closely associated with Indian cooking and used to make many of that country’s wonderful breads. But you can replicate the seasonings and grill or broil it so that it becomes very similar to the original. It isn’t difficult, and it’s really rewarding. Most tandoori chicken gets its bright red color from food coloring, but some cooks use a mild chile powder or a healthy dose of paprika, and that’s what I do here. Nice with Tomato Salad with Ginger (page 173) or Panfried Spicy Potatoes with Eggplant (page 476). Equally good with Paratha (page 559) or even plain rice.

This is the recipe of my friend Vikram Vij, whose Vancouver restaurant, Vij’s, is among the best Indian restaurants in North America. Other cuts of meat you can use here: Beef tenderloin (filet mignon), cut into medallions. Pilaf (page 513), Dal (page 433), and other standard Indian accompaniments would do nicely here.

In India, it should be noted, much “mutton” is actually goat, and—except in the most expensive restaurants or wealthiest homes—this spice mixture would be used on meat that would later be braised in a yogurt sauce, much like the one for the meatballs on page 424. But with our relatively young, tender lamb, you can just rub the meat with the spices and grill. (If you refrigerate for an hour or a day, the taste will be somewhat improved, but it’s not imperative.) I find this dish just as elegant as the French version, page 358, especially when it is on the spicy but mild side, with the chiles omitted. Serve with simple Pilaf (page 513) and, if you like, Curried Carrots (page 451). Other cuts of meat you can use here: beef steaks like skirt, sirloin (New York) strip, or ribeye are all good treated this way.

A basic spicy braised dish (non-Indians might call it a curry) that can be varied as you like (a couple of ideas follow the main recipe) and can also be made with lamb, pork, or seafood. Though it is traditionally made quite hot in its northern India home (as much food there is), you can reduce the number of chiles to one for a much milder version or increase them if your tastes run that way. Because the chicken is not browned, the dish is relatively easy to make; you can remove its skin if you like, because without the browning it adds nothing. I love this with a Paratha (page 559) but that might be too much work; it’s delicious with any rice dish also.

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.

Like any “curry,” this one contains several spices. But in this one, although it can be made quite hot, the flavor of cinnamon is dominant—and wonderfully offset by the addition of vinegar. If you can find mustard oil at an Indian or Pakistani market, use it here; not only is it the oil of choice for many Indian dishes, but it’s great for simply sautéing vegetables. Serve this with white rice or a simple pilaf. Other cuts of meat you can use here: Beef chuck or brisket (cooking time will be longer); chicken thighs, bone in or out; or lamb shoulder.

Like much of the food from the northern reaches of India (these are actually Kashmiri in origin), these fruit-stuffed meatballs have an exotic air about them. Serve with pilaf or one of the Indian breads on pages 559–565. Other meat you can use here: ground veal, pork, or beef.

One of the staples of the subcontinent, dal is not only daily fare but something to be relished with many meals. Serve this with Basic Long-Grain Rice (page 506) or any pilaf (pages 513–514). If you have the time (and forethought) to soak the lentils, they’ll cook more quickly, but it is far from necessary. Other legumes you can prepare this way: chickpeas (far longer cooking time), red beans.

More complicated than the preceding recipe, this sweet, spicy, unusual preparation is one I adore. You can make it with other legumes, of course, but black-eyed peas are traditional, and they cook more quickly than most others. (If you can find them frozen—or, better still, fresh—they’ll cook very quickly.) Other legumes you can prepare this way: lentils, chickpeas, black beans, red beans.

One of the best vegetarian dishes of India, the chickpea dumpling is the equal of those made of meat without mimicking them, and the yogurt sauce is creamy and delicious. Some people soak the chickpea dumplings in water after frying them, which gives them a lovely and delicate texture; others leave them crisp, adding them to the sauce at the last minute. The choice is yours; I enjoy the crisp version more but happily eat and make both. You can buy chickpea flour and hing (asafetida, page 10) at any store selling Indian ingredients and at many Middle Eastern stores as well. One word about the preparation: Skilled cooks can make the sauce first, then the dumplings, or mix the dumpling batter, then turn to the sauce, then fry the dumplings while the sauce is simmering. The level of activity required to do this is somewhat frenetic, but if you are comfortable with kitchen multitasking, it will work out.

In Brazil, feijoada is a meat dish with beans. In Goa, another former colony of Portugal, it is a bean dish in which meat is optional. I have been served and prepared it with both kidney beans and black-eyed peas and prefer it with the latter. To serve more people, simply double the beans and increase the remaining ingredients slightly or add meat; it won’t be much more effort. Serve over rice and make this entirely in advance if you like; it will keep, refrigerated, for a couple of days. Other legumes you can prepare this way: kidney or other red beans, black beans.

Chickpeas and lentils are the staple legumes of India, but red beans are cooked from time to time and, typically, done in an extremely flavorful manner. You can add meat to this preparation, which is already quite a bit like chili. Like Dal with Butter and Cream (page 433), this is excellent with some butter (and cream, if you like) stirred in toward the end of cooking. Make it entirely in advance if you like; it will keep, refrigerated, for a couple of days. Serve with rice. Other legumes you can prepare this way: chickpeas, black beans.

A staple dish of India, often made with potatoes added (cook large chunks of the potato in the same water, at the same time, as the cauliflower and simply increase the amount of oil and spice). Best with homemade curry powder or garam masala. The cumin seeds add a nice bit of crunch but are not essential. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: broccoli, potatoes, carrots, turnips, radishes.

Marginally different from the preceding dish, but enough so that I thought its inclusion worthwhile, Gobi Taktakin is a dish made on the streets of India, where they use knives to mince the cauliflower as it sautés on huge flat griddles. (The dish’s onomatopoeic name alludes to the tak-tak-tak sound of two knives simultaneously mincing and tossing the cauliflower as it sautés. To spare your pans the extra wear, it’s better to chop the cauliflower in advance.) Best with homemade curry powder or garam masala. Cumin seeds add a nice crunch, and cilantro adds a fresh note at the end, but neither is essential. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: broccoli, potatoes, carrots, turnips, radishes.

It took me a long time to figure out what was in this mysteriously flavored concoction, and even then I had to ask my host (who was from Kashmir, where this is common) what was going on here. The apples and eggplant complement each other perfectly, to the point where each loses a bit of its identity and gains something unusual. Serve this as a side dish any time you like, not just with Indian food.

Fish or shrimp in a powerful sauce is a common dish in India; this is a good example. If you’re comfortable in the kitchen, you can produce this dish far more quickly by beginning with the onion-tomato mixture and sautéing the fish in a separate skillet. Serve this with Coconut Rice (page 516) or Home-Fried Potatoes with Onion and Amchoor (page 477) or any Indian vegetable dish.

An unusual combination of textures and flavors, but—like the eggplant and apple mixture on page 458—one that really works. Serve in combination with other Indian dishes or as an unusual side dish with Western food. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: for the eggplant, substitute cauliflower or thick slices of red or yellow bell pepper or a combination.

I have been making this dish for more than thirty years—it’s one of the first South Asian recipes I learned—and I’ve never stopped loving it. After having a similar preparation in Delhi, I loved it even more. Basically, you coat shrimp with a spicy mix, then with a simple batter. Originally it was deep-fried, but shallow-frying, which uses less oil and makes less of a mess, works just as well. Don’t limit yourself to shrimp here; any seafood— scallops, oysters, clams, or fish fillet—will work wonderfully. Cooking time will remain about the same in almost every case.

Lemongrass stalks are used as skewers throughout Southeast Asia, where lemongrass grows like . . . well, grass. (It will grow that way for you, too, if you stick a couple of stalks in the ground, especially if you live in a warm climate and keep it well watered.) Simply trim the stalks, skewer the shrimp on them, and grill; you can gnaw on the stalks when you’ve finished the shrimp. Serve these with Nam Prik (page 586) or Soy Dipping Sauce (page 583). For information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla), see page 500.

Tamarind is a large seed pod grown and used in the cuisine of almost every equatorial country. Its pulp is processed into a dark brown paste, which is used as you might tomato paste, concentrated stock, or, for that matter, ketchup—as a simple flavor enhancer that completely changes the nature of the sauce into which it is stirred. You can make your own paste (page 585) or buy the paste now sold in bottles at many Asian stores. (There is also a kind of instant tamarind powder, which is not very good.) The bottled paste is concentrated to increase its strength, so if you use homemade tamarind paste, double the quantity (or add to taste). As for this recipe, you can use the same process to make almost anything in a tamarind sauce, but shrimp, because it requires minimal cooking time, is by far the easiest. I like to brown the shrimp first for a little more flavor, but you could actually start this recipe with the second step and add the shrimp after the onion. The dish is best when quite sour and not—as happens at too many restaurants—a sticky combination of sweet and sour.

Back in the days when I tackled such challenging projects, I made my own paneer, the fresh cheese that is integral to this dish of spicy spinach. Although you can buy paneer at markets specializing in Indian ingredients (and you can find these in almost every city), there is a superb substitute, and it’s sold everywhere: tofu. Like paneer, tofu is a fresh, quickly made cheese; it just happens to have a soy base rather than a cow’s milk base. But both are supremely bland, tender, and delicate. The curry powder used here should not be especially fiery or laden with black pepper, but on the sweet side, containing spices like nutmeg, cardamom, and cinnamon. (If you’re making your own, you’ll find a recipe on page 593; if you’re buying, just try to avoid mixes labeled hot.)