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Pasta, steak, and other Western recipes
Sweetened condensed milk mixed half and half with mayonnaise gives this Taiwanese sandwich its sweet-salty spread. Crustless white bread is stacked with thin egg sheets, ham, and cheddar so that each cut face shows neat yellow layers. Trimming the crusts is about texture more than looks, since the whole sandwich then gives softly when bitten.
Cornstarch makes up a large share of the flour in these cookies, which is why they crumble so tenderly before the thick layer of dulce de leche in the middle takes over. Dulce de leche, milk cooked down slowly into caramel, has a strong toffee flavor, so the cookies themselves are kept plain. The sweet traces back to medieval Andalusia, but this round sandwich form took shape in 19th-century Argentina and Uruguay. Pulled from the oven before they color, the rounds stay pale and soft.
Cut one open and the mozzarella in the center stretches out of a crisp, amber breadcrumb shell. The risotto is used cold, mixed with Parmesan and worked until the grains cling together, which lets it close around the cheese without cracking.
In this Peruvian beef stir-fry, French fries get tossed right into the pan and rice sits on the side of the plate. Soy sauce and red wine vinegar bring salt and sourness together, and only half a teaspoon of ají amarillo, a yellow chili paste, goes in. Plate it as soon as the fries have taken on a little sauce, before they go limp.
Ground beef and pork seasoned with soy sauce, sugar, garlic, and sesame oil give this patty the sweet-salty taste of tteokgalbi, Korean grilled short-rib patties, inside a burger bun. The toasted bun gets mayonnaise and lettuce before the patty goes on.
Frozen acai blended with banana, blueberries, and Greek yogurt turns into a thick, deep purple base like sorbet, with an earthy, almost cocoa-like note behind the berry flavor. The acai palm grows in the Amazon basin, and the bowl format topped with granola, fruit, and honey spread from Rio de Janeiro surf culture in the 1980s. The contrast between cold base and crunchy granola fades fast, so it goes to the table right away.
Raw beet, apple and carrot are blended whole with water and drunk unstrained, pulp and all, which makes it thick. Apple and lemon cover much of the beet's earthy taste, which is why the honey goes in only after tasting, and only if needed.
Nothing goes into the rub but coarse salt and coarse black pepper, and long oak smoke does the rest, building the dark crust Texans call bark while the collagen inside softens until slices give way along the grain. With seasoning this simple, the result depends on the meat rather than the clock: if the probe still meets resistance at the target temperature, it keeps cooking. In Texas, slices go out with white bread and pickles.
Almonds, garlic and soaked white bread are blended smooth, then olive oil is drizzled in as a thin stream until the soup turns white and creamy. Raw garlic gives it a sharp bite. It chills for at least an hour and is topped with green grapes or sliced almonds.
Aglio e olio means garlic and oil, and the Neapolitan dish asks for little beyond that: sliced garlic, chili flakes, olive oil, and spaghetti. With so few ingredients, the result rests on how the garlic cooks. Over low heat it should reach a pale gold in 3 to 4 minutes, and a few seconds past that the oil turns bitter. Starchy pasta water, added in portions and shaken hard with the oil, turns into a cloudy emulsion that clings to every strand. The traditional version uses no cheese and no cream.
Salty salami and olives, mild mozzarella balls, and crunchy bell pepper and cucumber trade places from bite to bite. With only red wine vinegar and olive oil in the dressing, the cured meat and olives carry most of the seasoning.
Peru and Ecuador both have a sauce called aji criollo; this Peruvian one cooks aji amarillo with onion and garlic until soft, then blends it, while the Ecuadorian version uses raw chili. Softened peppers leave fewer tough skin flecks in the blender, and water is added only when the blade stalls, keeping the sauce thick enough to spoon onto food. Cilantro gets chopped and stirred in at the end instead of blended, leaving green flecks visible through the sauce. Swapping in another chili changes both the yellow color and the heat. This version contains no milk or mayonnaise.
Shaped into a flat log, baked once, sliced on the diagonal, and baked again at a lower temperature, these Tuscan cookies earn their name, which means twice-cooked. The second bake dries them until they are hard rather than merely crisp, a style long associated with Prato. Whole almonds give each slice a toasty crunch, and lemon zest and vanilla scent the dough. Dunked in espresso or vin santo, the outside softens while the center holds firm.
All of the red comes from beet. It is pureed and stirred into the toasted rice, so every grain takes on a deep color. The rice goes into the pan unwashed to keep its surface starch.
Hot espresso melts the outside of the vanilla ice cream into a coffee layer while the center stays cold, and each spoonful carries both temperatures. Affogato means drowned in Italian, after the ice cream sitting in coffee. In this version dark chocolate and cocoa add bitterness, toasted almond slices add crunch, and a tiny pinch of salt finishes it.
Large cubes of beet and slices of ginger sit in salt brine with a splash of sauerkraut juice to start fermentation, and the result is a deep red drink that tastes salty first, then tart and faintly fizzy. Cutting the beets small or grating them speeds fermentation too much and clouds the liquid. Any fuzzy growth, pink, green, or black spots, or an unpleasant smell means the whole batch gets thrown out, untasted.
Each side of the tuna gets only 20 to 30 seconds. In a pan hot enough to send up a wisp of smoke, that is long enough for a dark brown crust, and when sliced the center is a vivid, nearly raw pink. A gray cross-section means it stayed on too long.
Rice and chicken breast cook in the stock first, then eggs beaten with lemon juice turn the broth thick and tart. Hot stock is whisked into the eggs a ladle at a time to warm them, and once they are in the pot the soup never comes back to a boil.
The dish turns on slicing the garlic thin and even. If the slices vary, the thin ones burn first and the whole pan of oil turns bitter. Done right, no oil pools in the pan; it has all gone onto the strands as a thin sheen.
Fennel brings a faint anise scent, more fragrant than sweet, and a celery-like snap that plays against thin slices of apple. Toasted walnuts add a slightly tannic crunch, and peppery arugula keeps the plate from leaning sweet. The honey-lemon dressing, just lemon juice, honey, olive oil, and salt, is deliberately plain so each ingredient stays recognizable. Sliced last and tossed straight into the dressing, the apple has no time to brown, and the salad goes to the table as soon as it is plated. In France and Italy this kind of salad turns up in autumn and winter, when apples and fennel are in season together, and it sits well beside roast chicken, where the fennel cuts through the richness.
Small beef meatballs are browned only on the outside, then finish cooking in an onion and tomato sauce with a little paprika. The sauce tastes fuller after a day, so it can be made ahead and served with bread or rice.
Croissants split, filled with almond cream, spread with a little more on top, and pressed with sliced almonds return to the oven for a second bake. Slightly stale croissants work well: French bakeries first made these to rescue day-old stock. Paris bakeries now make them on purpose with freshly baked croissants too. As they bake, the cream melts into a moist, marzipan-like filling, the almonds turn golden and crisp, and the bottoms go a little sticky.
Ground perilla seed goes in with the Parmesan at the end of this mushroom risotto, and the first spoonful smells nutty in a way anyone who knows Korean perilla noodle soup will recognize. There's no cream; the starch stirred out of the rice is what makes it thick.
Mashing home-cooked chestnuts into the mascarpone, instead of using a smooth commercial paste, leaves a fine graininess in every spoonful. A few chopped chestnuts scattered over the top give it something to bite.