To say that something is “a la Mexicana” means it is prepared “Mexican- style,” which typically means that the dish has tomato, serrano pepper, and onion, all core ingredients in Mexican cooking—also, fittingly, representing the red, green, and white colors of the Mexican flag.
When I moved out of my parents’ home at 23 years old, one thing I knew I would miss deeply were mornings with my dad. We both are morning people, so it would often just be us two in the kitchen. We sipped on coffee, and he prepared breakfast as we shared the latest chisme (gossip). One of those typical weekday breakfasts was his huevos a la Mexicana, always prepared with lots of intention and love.
I was never able to fill the void left by losing those mornings with my dad, but I did set out to fill the void of his huevos a la Mexicana. Tofu makes an exceptional substitute for scrambled eggs, and when prepared “a la Mexicana,” it transforms into the most flavorful scramble I’ve ever had. The addition of black salt (also known as kala namak) is optional but highly recommended to add an egglike flavor. Only the slightest bit is needed as it has a powerful taste and smell.
This is a great one-skillet meal that you can endlessly customize with vegetables and spices. Silky zucchini, briny capers, and salty Parmesan cheese is my current go-to-but feel free to swap in broccoli or bell peppers for the zucchini, or, if you crave heat, sub pickled pepperoncini and a teaspoon of chili flakes for the capers and oregano. We love eating this dish over rice, tossed with cooked pasta, or all on its own.
This salad just screams summer, with its bright colors and many textures. We always have some version of a squash salad at Cured during the summer, because at a certain point we inevitably have more squash than we know what to do with. And I don’t think people know how good raw summer squash can taste!
Vegan | Gluten-Free | Dairy-Free
In the debate over rice or noodles, I choose noodles. Dishes like this remind me why. Noodles come in so many shapes and sizes and textures. The type of noodle can make one dish feel entirely different from another one. A big favorite is udon, a thick, extra-chewy noodle. The first time I had udon was in Japan, and it was in a noodle soup that was perfectly rich and salty. I ate it so fast. My friend the cookbook author Hetty McKinnon had a similar experience in Tokyo, and this is her ode to that life- changing udon. No exaggeration: this is one of my favorite noodle dishes I have ever cooked, and I think it might be your new favorite dinner, too.
Throughout the Caribbean and American South, African slaves transformed the tails of oxen or other cattle, the discards of wealthy plantation owners, into a delicacy by slow-braising them in rich, fragrant stews. In Haiti, oxtail is served with pikliz, an intense peppery and sour slaw tart enough to make your jaws clench, similar in taste and texture to the Southern condiment chow chow. Pikliz is most often made with green cabbage, but I use red cabbage, which is prettier and slightly sweeter, and brussels sprouts, which have a hint of nuttiness. Serve with your favorite white rice.
This recipe comes from my mother-in-law, Mary. She’s taught me a lot of great cooking tricks and is an absolute force in the kitchen. You know Mary is cooking when you walk into the house and the music is pumping at full volume. I’ve changed some of the seasonings and herbs, but the timing and technique here are all hers. This is an easy, totally hands-off method of cooking fish, which makes it an ideal recipe for new or nervous cooks—for all cooks, really!
Bisteeya is a Moroccan pie traditionally made with braised pigeon, almonds, warm spices, herbs, and eggs. Instead of slowly braising whole cuts of poultry, here I make it with quickly seared ground chicken. By developing dark brown color on the ground chicken, I’m able to mimic the deep flavors of a long-cooked braise in a snap. For the best color, spread the ground chicken out on the skillet and walk away (well, not literally). By leaving it put, the chicken has a chance to dry out and go to brown town on one side, while the opposite side stays moist. This is how I get the best color and texture with any ground meat. If you’ve never used phyllo, this recipe is a good place to start. We’re simply layering the phyllo and folding it over the filling. There’s no complicated scrunching or rolling, and with only a few sheets, if you move quickly, there’s little risk of the pastry drying out. Don’t fret if any sheets tear. With all the layers, the pie can withstand a few ripped sheets.
This is the ultimate one-pot meal that feeds many and comforts all. By far, my favorite traditional main course. Essentially a soup made with meat (a combination of beef and pork) or seafood and root vegetables, the dish varies from home to home and town to town.
A whole book could be written about this dish, since it has been adapted and appropriated by many countries across Latin America and the Caribbean. Hence, sancocho recipes are personal, unscripted, often use locally available ingredients , and can be watered down if unexpected mouths show up.
Serving and eating sancocho is particularly personal. I go with how it was always served at my mother’s home: Once the soup is ready, the roots, corn, and meats are taken out of the broth and divided onto large platters. The broth is then strained, skimmed, and reheated to be served on the side along with lime wedges, avocado slices, white rice, and ají.
Each person gets a plate and a bowl, and they assemble their own sancocho as they wish. Some cut the roots and meats up to add back into the broth, while others eat it separately and sip the broth between bites. Whichever way you choose is fine.
Regardless, there is a lot of silverware involved.
A hearty, warming meal, the gnocchi here are baked and topped with a crunchy breadcrumb or pangratatto topping, making for a satisfying mix of creaminess and crunch. Ready-made gnocchi have become widely available, and most types are vegan, but check the ingredients just in case.