Vegetarian

The Palestinian kitchen is filled with a variety of meat, fish and vegetable kefte, which are balls of seasonal ingredients that have been molded, stuffed, baked or fried. This is my interpretation of a vegetarian kefte, using the region’s ubiquitous eggplants married with fresh, fragrant herbs and tangy white cheese. These are perfect for picnics and keep well for a few days in the fridge.

We started with the garnish, frying sliced shallots until they were crisp and golden. Then we tossed diced tofu with sriracha and honey and left it to marinate while we quickly pickled some red cabbage and roasted some broccolini and carrots on the same baking sheet. Bulgur, the base of our grain bowl, was supereasy to make: We just poured it into plenty of boiling salted water and cooked it like pasta. We combined a portion of the pickling liquid with the shallot-infused oil, some mayonnaise, and a bit more sriracha to make a zippy dressing. We stirred some into the drained bulgur to ensure that every bite was flavorful. Topped with pickles, roasted vegetables, and marinated tofu; drizzled with extra dressing; and sprinkled with crispy shallots, this grain bowl makes a satisfying hot dinner or great packed lunch.

 

The perfect light lunch or appetizer, kuku sabzi differs from a typical frittata in two important ways. To begin with, the ratio of greens to eggs is heavily skewed in favor of greens—in fact, I use just enough eggs to bind the greens together. And kuku isn’t kuku without a deeply browned crust to provide a textural and flavor contrast to its bright, custardy center. Eat kuku warm, at room temperature, or cold, with feta cheese, yogurt, or pickles to offer the balance of acidity. Washing, chopping, and cooking down all the greens for a kuku can be overwhelming if you’re not used to staring down a mountain of produce, so feel free to prep the greens a day in advance.

I hated cooked carrots growing up and refused to eat them. My mom was a doctor, and though she might not be the best cook, she always made sure I never missed out on any nutrition. She would shred carrots and cook them with my favorite breakfast crepes, so I couldn’t pick them out. I still dislike cooked carrots, so I include additional vegetables with this pancake. They are crispy on the outside and tender inside, with crunches from the fresh veggies, and the carrots to add some sweetness. I won’t pick them out this time for sure. These pancakes are great as breakfast, and they also make the best side dish.

Attend a festival in Le Marche, and you may sample one of the greatest snacks you’ll ever have: olive all’ascolana. Crisp-coated, salty fried olives stuffed with a rich meat filling are a culinary marvel of taste and texture that originated in the town of Ascoli Piceno. We just had to try making these delightful bites, but we suspected it might be a challenge—after all, we’d have to figure out how to pit and stuff an olive! We tried starting with pitted olives as a short-cut, but found them lacking in color, texture, and overall olive flavor. Instead we used large, mild-flavored Cerignola olives, which are easy to find in delis and prepared food places. To remove the pits, we left the olive flesh in one piece, slicing down one side of the olive and cutting around the pit with a paring knife as if we were peeling an apple. We were pleasantly surprised to find that the process went quickly after we got used to pitting the first few. With these olives, the filling shares the spotlight, and we found a lot of impractical recipes calling for a menagerie of meat scraps or specialty cuts. We started with ground pork; while uninspiring by itself, additions of prosciutto, sautéed carrot, and shallot built beautiful layers of flavor. A little nutmeg provided the classic warm spice and aroma, while wine added brightness. One large yolk and Parmigiano gave the filling richness and a creamy texture. We prefer to use Cerignola olives, but other large brine-cured green olives will work, too. To allow for practice, the recipe calls for extra olives.

In wintertime and early spring in Puglia, locals combine their winter stores of dried fava beans with peppery wild chicory into a satisfying, hearty dish. Dried fava beans are typically cooked until they can be mashed into a smooth puree and then topped with sautéed chicory dressed simply with olive oil and salt. Wild chicory isn’t commonplace in American markets, but we still embraced the dish’s humble roots by using more readily available escarole, which is a member of the chicory family: It's easy to find, quick cooking, and offers a similar pleasant bitterness. To amp up flavor and add brightness to the dish, we added chili flakes and lemon zest to the greens, which balanced out the bitter notes. With the greens settled, we turned our attention to creating a smooth, silky puree from the fava beans. Potato is a traditional addition to this dish, as it lends a smooth, unctuous texture; we found that adding just one potato to the pot with the beans was enough to achieve the consistency we were after. Rather than mash the cooked fava beans and potato with a potato masher, we passed them through a food mill or potato ricer to ensure a silky smooth texture. Finally, we finished the dish with shaved Pecorino for a salty bite that enhanced the complex, earthy flavors of the fava beans.

What makes these potatoes Venetian is simply the frequency with which I have seen them prepared in this manner in the homes of Giardini. The shape of the cut potatoes sometimes varies (thick disks are quite popular) but I much prefer the dice shape. The consistent features are the melted onions and the unctuous syrupy stock sauce. I wouldn’t worry too much about the type of potato, either. With waxy varieties, the dice holds its shape much better and the slightly yellow hue is a little more attractive. But floury spuds disintegrate a tad more, so the sauce has more viscosity, giving a fuller, deeper flavor. I love them both ways.

We first had this in Sydney in a funny little tapas bar we used to go to called Capitan Torres. When we were in Spain we discovered that it was a staple of most traditional tapas bars. We liked the fact that you could use a plain cultivated mushroom and turn it into something with so much flavor.