Weeknight Kitchen

The crumble steals the show in this salad! You can serve whatever leafy greens and vegetables you want with it, and it’s still going to be the best salad you have all week. I’ve headed in an autumnal direction here—chewy kale leaves with apple batons and cranberries. I also crumble over some soft goat cheese, which works beautifully with the sweet and sour elements of the salad. All together it’s a great combination of textures, colors, and flavors. It’s substantial enough as a standalone meal or as a statement side dish (official term!). The cranberry-plumping step (another official term) is optional. But once you’ve plumped, you’ll never go back!

This one-pan wonder is a creamy skillet of tiny grains of orzo pasta that cook up in a snap, making it a go-to for weeknights. The contrast of the zingy lemon with the earthy thyme-infused charred broccoli creates chef-level depth of flavor in minutes. For an extra touch, garnish with lemon wheels and serve it straight from the skillet at the table. (Then it’s front and center for grabbing seconds!)

My aunt Phoebe’s late husband, Uncle Samy, was a passionate cook who had a knack for turning the simplest ingredients into a meal. This five-ingredient chicken was one of his signature dishes that my cousins and I always looked forward to.

The key to perfecting this dish is to make sure the onions are cooked down and caramelized to a deep golden brown, while being careful not to burn them. Just watch and toss the onions around, managing the heat until they are ready.

Here I serve it over a big salad with blocks of feta, bread, and a bowl of Torshi (page 261). If Uncle Samy saw it this way, he’d teasingly say I ruined it with all the embellishments, and we’d have a big laugh. Every time I make this chicken, I think of him.

I’ve made versions of these crispy, delicate little fried cabbage pancakes at restaurants and in my very own home, where they are a breakfast staple. I’ve often watched my mom bulk them up with canned salmon and loads of the week’s forgotten vegetables. We’d eat them over bowls of hot grits or rice. To me, they are reminiscent of okonomiyaki (loosely translated as “grilled as you like it”), a popular savory pancake from southern Japan. I like to drizzle Spicy Sorghum-Miso Mustard (page 110) over them.

For me, this is not just a soup, but also a quick dinner when I add some quinoa or rice to it. This soup is mild, but when I make it for myself, I add hot sauce or green chillies while blending the onions and garlic. You can also add leftover vegetables to it.

Bold, fiery, thick, and creamy, this pasta—great served hot or cold—offers a taste of the beauty of cultural syncretism. In Jamaican immigrant communities from New York to London, Rasta Pasta is a treasured tradition, favored for the way two seemingly disparate worlds—Italy and Jamaica—come together in one bright and unfussy pot. It’s so beloved in Jamaica that the esteemed Evita’s Italian Restaurant devoted an entire menu to the dish’s many variants, including a signature the restaurant dubs Reggae-toni. This version turns the typically dairy-heavy dish plant-based with the use of coconut milk, itself a Caribbean staple, keeping Rasta Pasta firmly in touch with its roots.

This recipe began as a “serves one person” kind of thing. I had half a container of mushrooms, one onion, and one kid who had to eat before a late soccer practice. Looking for something fast that would fill her up but not weigh her down, I threw the mushrooms into a hot skillet and cooked them until they got crispy, and then scanned my fridge to figure out what might add something unexpected. Let me just say that the solution to this quandary in my house is almost always miso paste. Just a spoonful, thinned out with hot water, was all I needed to add that sweet-and-salty hit and win over my unsuspecting athlete . . . and eventually the whole family. Definitely opt for red cabbage when pickling—you’ll want its texture here. Serve these tacos with white rice that’s been tossed with lime juice and chopped cilantro.

My Moroccan friend Mehdi first introduced me to chermoula as a marinade for seafood, but I love it on chicken too. It wraps the meat with the soft distinct flavor of cooked cilantro and the gentle warmth of sweet paprika. This is a great picnicky recipe to double up for a summertime crowd, since chicken thighs (or hindquarters) are very forgiving for the busy home cook. I like to use my wood-burning pizza oven outdoors, but an indoor oven works just fine.

We like to make up big batches of this homey chowder when the local sweet corn is at its peak. Do not toss out those corn cobs; they make a fabulous stock that gives this soup its wonderful corn-y flavor.

Bún cha’ hails from North Vietnam, where the cuisine is much more understated and subtle compared to the boldness and spice of its southern counterpart. I’ve never been up north, but my cousin’s uncle lived there and treated us to bún ch’a when he came to visit. It’s fresh, savory, sweet, and herby all at the same time. Traditional bún ch’a features rice vermicelli noodles served with a vegetal broth, seasoned pork patties, and caramelized pork belly slices. My version presents you with several dining options. You can either dip the noodles in the sauce mixture, pour the sauce all over the noodles, or enjoy it as a lettuce wrap. When you choose the lettuce to use, you can use anything but iceberg—it’s too watery! I recommend seeking out Persian (mini) cucumbers because they’re seedless and add an extra crispy texture to the experience. The pork patties are best when they’re grilled, but if you don’t have easy access to a grill, you can pan-sear them instead.