Weeknight Kitchen

I just love this recipe. It’s so FAST (under 30 minutes) and convenient, especially because any type of frozen fish works and you don’t even need to defrost it before cooking.

Since beef was expensive in Japan when I was growing up, it was a real treat when my grandmother, Hatsuko Ishikawa, invited us over for a meatloaf with amakara (salty and sweet) sauce, made with soy sauce, honey, and vinegar. She made hers in a round cast-iron skillet and always served it with potatoes, which were tossed in the pan (with the lid closed) to make them fluffy. This recipe is enhanced with a miso-infused shiitake mushroom sauce, my own wafu version of meatloaf.

Some salads are supporting actors; this salad is a star. It’s worth your attention and stomach space on a table full of other foods— yes, even (and especially) like Thanksgiving. I like to keep the farro, olive, and cheese treasures at the bottom of the serving bowl, with the leaves layered on the top for a fun surprise every time someone scoops. 

This recipe is flexible, so don’t get flustered if you don’t have both endives and radicchio or Castelfranco. Just one type of leaf is fine! Don’t have Parm? Swap in feta or even blue cheese. If you want to skip the nuts, go for it, but I’d strongly advise you keep the olives in. And, you could even add in a sweet element, like a dried cranberry, golden raisin, or sliced pear, if that’s your kind of thing.

We’ve put this recipe here because, unlike the pot pies in the first chapter, this is a traditional pot pie with a bottom crust and a top crust, making it a double-­crusted pie. This pot pie uses the carcass of the holiday bird to make a rich turkey stock. Making stock is a very flexible process, so use common sense rather than precise measurements. Of course it’s fine to use store-­bought turkey stock, but homemade is so much better and takes less than 10 minutes of active time. It’s well worth the small effort, since the turkey is abundance itself and shouldn’t be wasted.

These are Brussels sprouts but with a difference. First, they are finely shredded and sautéed in plenty of butter flavoured with nutmeg and sage, then they are combined with orecchiette, double (heavy) cream and plenty of Parmesan. 

On the day a priest is ordained at Saint-­Wandrille, committing to a life of poverty, obedience, and chastity, he is allowed to choose what the dinner menu will include that evening. Pork loin is a favored choice. It’s a good day for everyone since all of the priests and monks indulge collectively. A little more wine is served than usual that evening, and the meal often concludes with a glass or two of Calvados. This recipe is much easier to prepare than its nuanced flavors might suggest. Be sure to select a dark beer such as a stout or porter because it will result in an irresistible caramelized glaze that’s rounded out by the honey and tempered by the tanginess of the apples. Serve with your favorite comforting carb; at Saint-­Wandrille, fluffy mashed parsnips or roasted celery root are the vegetables of choice.

White beans dressed with little more than fresh herbs and good olive oil reminds me of meals I’ve enjoyed in Tuscany, the South of France, and the Greek islands. Here, the gremolata-style dressing is inspired by the Italian version made with garlic, citrus rind, and parsley. My variation uses a combination of preserved lemons, black garlic, and cilantro. The black garlic can be replaced with pitted salted olives—not the same, but it does have that “grounding” umami flavor.

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.