721 recipes. Page 3 of 31
Pasta, steak, and other Western recipes
Rationing of butter and sugar in Britain during the Second World War made double-crust pastry hard to justify, and a rubbed-in topping of flour, oats and butter took its place. In the oven the cinnamon-spiced apples slump into a thick, bubbling sauce while the topping crisps on its peaks and stays moist where it meets the juice.
The browned bits left in the pot after searing chicken and andouille sausage end up soaked into every grain of rice. This Louisiana one-pot rice is not a stir-fry: tomatoes, Cajun seasoning, and stock go in, the lid goes on, and the rice absorbs the liquid over low heat.
The name is banana plus toffee. The toffee here is condensed milk stirred in a saucepan until deep amber, and although banoffee is usually called no-bake, this version gives the digestive biscuit base 10 minutes in the oven so it stays firm under that dense layer. Cut cold, a slice shows four clean layers: biscuit, toffee, banana and cream.
A tablespoon of condensed milk on top of the sugar gives this milk tea a dense, caramel-like sweetness. The tea bags steep off the heat for four minutes and are lifted out without squeezing; squeezed, they release a harshness the milk cannot cover. For iced milk tea, the pot is cooled and chilled before it ever meets the ice.
The seasoning is lard, garlic and salt, nothing more. A milk-fed half lamb, laid flat on the bone, starts fat side down at a low temperature with pan juices spooned over, then is turned and finished hotter to color the outside. The timings are written for that thin, spread-out half; a rolled leg or a thick cut from an adult animal will not follow them.
Saffron soaks first in a few spoonfuls of warm fish stock until it turns deep gold, then joins the rest of the stock; that is where the color of the stew is set. The seafood goes in by stages: firm white fish, then the softer pieces and shrimp, and mussels last. In the end, the freshness of the fish decides how it tastes.
Milk simmered into the tomato for 80 minutes rounds off the acidity and leaves this ragu soft-textured and mellow. The depth is set earlier, when the ground beef browns over high heat until it catches on the pot and red wine lifts that browned layer into the sauce.
Corn seared in a dry, very hot pan picks up brown spots and a toasty sweetness that the mild black beans need. Lime juice and cilantro give the bowl the bright, sharp edge of a Mexican salsa, while avocado folded in at the end softens the acidity with its richness. Well-drained beans matter too, since leftover liquid dilutes the lime dressing quickly.
Fanned slices of avocado take the place of Canadian bacon, trading the salty meat layer for something soft and mild under the poached egg and hollandaise. The hollandaise depends on adding melted butter in a thin, slow stream so the emulsion holds. If it thickens too much, a teaspoon of warm water loosens it.
The cornstarch tossed with the apples is what lets this pie slice cleanly: it catches the juice the fruit releases and sets it into a glossy syrup. The dish has English and Dutch roots going back to the 14th century, and Americans have baked it since colonial times. The apples sit between two sheets of crust, with slits on top to let steam out. Serve it warm with vanilla ice cream, a la mode, or beside a slice of cheddar as in New England.
Big flakes of smoked haddock and halved hard-boiled eggs show through rice tinted yellow with curry powder. Haddock is a cod relative, and the smoked fillets used here are the kind sold for cooking, so they need to be cooked through, not eaten straight from the pack.
An enriched dough of bread flour, milk, egg, and butter fries into a thin, crisp shell around a soft, airy crumb. The dough stays a little tacky after kneading; working in extra flour to tame it is the usual way to end up with a heavy, bready center.
This juice lives or dies by the tomatoes. Underripe ones give little but sourness, so let them ripen at room temperature rather than in the fridge. The basil goes in right before blending, and the juice is seasoned with salt and pepper, so it drinks savory rather than sweet.
Soy sauce, pear juice and sesame oil give this thick sirloin a flavor close to bulgogi, while the cooking itself follows steak: a hard sear, a rest, then slicing against the grain. Pear juice tenderizes, but the marinade stays short because past 30 minutes it turns the surface mushy.
Broccoli cooks in a butter-and-flour roux loosened with milk and chicken stock, then the heat drops to its lowest setting and the cheddar melts in a handful at a time. Served as is, the florets stay chunky; blend half and small bits remain in the cream. It also goes into hollowed-out bread bowls.
Whisking black sesame paste (heukimja) into cream turns the sauce a dusky gray and gives it a heavy, toasty richness close to nut butter. Crisp bacon breaks up that richness with salt and smoke, and the wide rigatoni tubes fill with sauce so each piece tastes of sesame inside and out.
Chicken breast rubbed with smoked paprika and seared over medium-high heat brings a smoky, warm counterpoint to cold, crisp romaine. Despite the blackened name, this version skips the usual cayenne and dried herb blend and relies on smoked paprika alone. The Caesar-style dressing is a quick mix of mayonnaise, lemon, Dijon and garlic with no anchovy, while croutons and shaved Parmesan supply crunch and salt.
Shreds of salt cod and matchstick potatoes fried crisp are bound together by eggs cooked only to soft, creamy curds. Soaking the cod in cold water for 24 to 48 hours, with several changes, means starting a day or two ahead. Even after soaking it keeps some salt, which makes tasting at the end more reliable than salting along the way. Taking the pan off the heat before the eggs fully set and letting residual heat finish them keeps the dish moist rather than dry. Black olives go alongside when you have them.
Folded into triangles, these turnovers carry on a medieval European habit of baking fruit in pastry, and by the 17th century they were sold as hand-held snacks at French and English market stalls. The apples are cooked down in a pan first with butter, sugar and cinnamon, so they enter the oven already soft and jammy rather than raw and wet. Heat turns the moisture between the puff pastry layers into steam that pushes them apart, and the egg wash gives the top a lacquered, deep golden finish. The shattering crust is at its best in the first few minutes out of the oven.
Rice, then a beef patty, onion gravy and a soft fried egg: the Hawaiian bowl is built in that order. The gravy starts in the pan the patties came out of, with butter and the rest of the onion scraping up the browned juices before flour and Worcestershire sauce go in. The yolk gets broken and stirred through with the gravy.
Cannoli are only worth eating while the fried shells are crisp, so the ricotta filling is piped in from both ends just before serving. Draining the ricotta in a sieve beforehand gives a richer filling, and the ends get a press of dark chocolate chips.
Mint is pressed just enough to release its oils, and lime is used two ways, as muddled wedges for pulp and as juice for clean acidity. A pinch of salt makes the lime taste brighter than simply adding more lime would.
Frenched lamb chops come with a clean bone that works as a handle, so they are picked up and eaten by hand. A rub of rosemary and crushed garlic softens the gamey edge of the lamb, and the chops come off the heat at medium rare, still pink inside.
Caldo verde means green broth in Portuguese. The soup is thickened with nothing but blended potato, no cream, and carries kale cut fine as thread along with a few slices of smoked sausage.