179 recipes. Page 6 of 8
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Thin slices of quince, skin and all, are simmered briefly with sugar, honey, lemon juice, and a cinnamon stick into a fragrant amber preserve, and a few spoonfuls stirred into very hot water make each cup. The skin stays on because it carries much of the fruit's floral, citrusy aroma; only the bitter seeds and the hard core are cut away.
Finely cut romaine and red cabbage, with carrot and bell pepper in small dice, let one forkful pick up all five vegetables at once. Size is most of the work: if the carrot pieces run large, they take longer to chew and the bite falls apart into separate flavors. With only olive oil, lemon juice and salt for dressing, the slight bitterness of red cabbage and the sweetness of corn come through plainly. Leaves need drying well, since any water left on them thins that light dressing fast. None of the vegetables goes limp quickly, and the dressed salad keeps its crunch in the fridge as a make-ahead meal.
Chilled, thinly sliced veal disappears under a cold sauce of tuna, capers, and anchovy blended smooth with mayonnaise and lemon. The meat is gently cooked in white wine over a bed of onion, then cooled completely so it slices thin without tearing. That cooking liquid is saved to loosen the sauce until it flows slowly off a spoon. Capers and anchovy bring the salt and acidity that the mild veal lacks, and a few extra capers are scattered on top before it is served cold.
The cream cheese filling over a digestive biscuit base is flavored with yuja-cheong (Korean citron preserve) and lemon juice. A few hours in the fridge sets it enough to slice, but the yuja only really comes through after a day, so make it the day before.
Mulberries are in season in May and June, and the syrup here is cooked from berries frozen then. They simmer with sugar and water over low heat for six minutes, lemon juice is stirred in, and a fine sieve takes out the seeds. The syrup keeps about five days in the fridge, and tonic water in place of sparkling water gives a slightly bitter finish.
Chwinamul, a leafy Korean mountain green, gets only a 20-second blanch and an ice bath; left longer in boiling water, it loses both its herbal bitterness and its bright green color. Julienned apple and cucumber bring sweetness and juice, and thin red onion, soaked first in cold water, adds a sharp edge that keeps the plate light. The dressing loosens doenjang (Korean soybean paste) with lemon juice and thickens it with perilla oil into a nutty, tart coating rather than anything soup-like, and a salty doenjang can be thinned with a little water. The apple is cut last, after everything else is ready, to keep browning down. It sits somewhere between a seasoned namul side dish and a fruit salad, tastes clearest served cold, and is most fragrant with freshly harvested spring chwinamul.
Browning the butter first gives these madeleines a nutty base, with yuja-cheong and lemon juice adding a sharp citrus note on top. Any big pieces of peel in the yuja preserve are chopped small so every mold gets its share.
Young pine needles steeped over low heat with jujubes and ginger give a clear, resin-like pine scent. Longer simmering does not make that scent stronger, only more astringent, so the brew stays under 20 minutes.
Couscous never boils for this salad: boiling water is poured over, the bowl is covered, and five minutes of standing does the cooking. Texture is decided afterward. Lifted apart with a fork, the grains stay light and separate; pressed or stirred, they clump into a sticky mass. Cucumber, cherry tomatoes and roughly chopped parsley add juice and freshness, and a lemon and olive oil dressing seasons it lightly. Let the steam escape completely first, or the vegetables soften. With parsley making up so much of the bowl, it eats more like tabbouleh than a heavy grain salad, and couscous that holds its texture at room temperature travels well in a lunch box or to a picnic.
Somaek, short for soju plus maekju (beer), started as a bomb-shot habit at Korean drinking tables, and this version tidies it into something closer to a highball with ice, lemon juice, and a lemon slice. At one part soju to three parts lager, beer still carries most of the flavor while soju adds strength. A splash of soda water lowers the alcohol and sharpens the fizz.
Tapped with the back of a knife and torn lengthwise by hand, deodeok (a Korean mountain root) splits into chewy, fibrous strands, but pounded too hard the fibers crush and the chew is gone. A gochujang and vinegar dressing thickened with ground perilla seed gives it a nutty finish, and julienned apple softens the root's bitterness with sweet juice.
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.
Deodeok, a Korean mountain root, has an earthy smell and a gentle bitterness, and orange segments and arugula answer it with acidity and a peppery bitterness. The root is pounded and seared in the same pan as the chicken tenders, glazed with soy sauce, and a light dressing of lemon juice, soy sauce, olive oil and honey lands somewhere between Korean and Italian.
Burdock root, sliced thin with its skin on and dry-roasted until it browns, gives this tea its toasty aroma. The slicing matters as much as the roasting: thick slices hold their flavor back.
Pressed for 20 minutes and seared until golden on each side, the tofu goes onto the salad still warm, a crisp-edged contrast to cool baby greens, cucumber and cherry tomatoes. The soy sauce, lemon and sesame oil dressing brings enough salt and acidity that the tofu itself needs no separate seasoning. Only the vegetables get dressed, with the tofu sitting on top so its browned surface stays dry until the first bite.
Yuja (Korean citron) marmalade, pear juice, lemon juice and honey are mixed into a base first, divided between iced glasses, and topped with soda water at the very end. Yuja marmalades vary in sweetness, so the honey goes in to taste. A sprig of rosemary, slapped once between the palms to wake it up, goes into each glass.
This egg salad is wrapped in romaine leaves rather than bread, and only a tablespoon of mayonnaise goes in; Greek yogurt makes up the rest. Finely chopped celery gives it crunch, and Dijon mustard a little heat.
The yuja marmalade is loosened in water that has cooled to 85 to 90°C rather than at a rolling boil, which drives off the citron aroma and brings out bitterness. Honey, a little ginger juice and a few drops of lemon go in too, and the cups are warmed with hot water beforehand. The peel sinks to the bottom; stir before drinking.
Cooked chickpeas, onion and parsley are pulsed into a coarse mixture, shaped into small balls and baked or pan-fried into falafel that sit over romaine, tomato and cucumber under a tahini sauce. Done well, the falafel are deep golden and crisp outside but still moist within, a clear contrast to the raw vegetables. Lemon juice cuts the richness of the sesame-based tahini. No deep fryer is involved: the oven or a lightly oiled pan does the job.
Oven-crisped pita chips anchor a Levantine vegetable salad, and sumac, a tart red spice, tints the tomato, cucumber, radish and romaine with color and sourness. Layering sumac with lemon, whose sourness is of a different kind, gives the dressing a fuller acidity. The chips are added just before eating, since they soften fast in the dressing, and each bite then has crisp centers and slightly soaked edges.
Freekeh starts as young green wheat that is fire-roasted on the stalk, then threshed and dried, which leaves a faint smoky note in every grain. Boiled, it stays chewy and keeps its shape among the vegetables. Parsley and cilantro, chopped down to their tender stems, lift the smoke with fresh green aroma, and lemon juice with olive oil forms the only dressing. Herbs stirred into hot grain lose their scent, so the freekeh is spread out to cool until just lukewarm first. An hour's rest after mixing lets the dressing soak into the grains.
Apple, banana, strawberries and blueberries cut into bite-size pieces get folded into plain yogurt sweetened with honey, whose soft tang sits over the fruit's sweetness. Lemon juice slows browning on the cut apple and freshens the finish, while walnuts toasted briefly in a dry pan bring crunch to an otherwise soft bowl.
King oyster mushrooms sliced lengthwise and seared in a dry pan turn golden outside and stay chewy inside, giving this salad its meaty bite. Perilla oil, nutty and slightly grassy, meets lemon juice in the dressing so a light acidity lifts the browned mushrooms. Shredded perilla leaves bring a sharp herbal aroma that fades quickly once dressed. The bowl is best eaten soon after tossing.
Peach wedges seared on a grill pan for 1 to 2 minutes per side caramelize at the cut edges and gain a concentrated sweetness and faint smokiness that raw fruit never has. Torn burrata spills its cream over the warm fruit, while peppery arugula and crunchy walnuts cut through all that cream. A zigzag of balsamic glaze ties the sweet and tangy notes together, and the salad is at its best in midsummer peach season.