Asian

Yakitori shops—small places, mostly joints, where you sit at the counter—specialize in chicken, though you can use this sauce and technique for almost anything that can be cut into bite-sized pieces: chicken wings, chicken skin, chicken livers or gizzards, bits of pork, shiitake mushrooms, scallions, even garlic cloves. Sometimes different things are combined on skewers, too, so feel free to go that route. A good hot fire, preferably made with real charcoal (not gas and certainly not briquettes) is requisite. Chicken thighs are often boned before sale; if you can find only bone-in thighs, you will quickly figure out how to remove the meat from them—it’s simple (and the bones make great stock). Do not use breasts in this recipe unless you are a fan of dry meat. As long as you have the grill going, you might make some Roasted Red Peppers (page 470). Or, if you feel like it, Sautéed Peppers with Miso (page 78). Either is a great accompaniment. Shichimi pepper is a spice mixture sold in Japanese markets.

These are best grilled slowly so that the sweet sauce caramelizes slowly as the chicken cooks through. You can use boneless breasts for these, but they will almost invariably dry out. Do not marinate these for more than an hour or so; the meat will begin to get mushy. In fact I don’t bother to marinate them at all unless it fits into my schedule. Thai fish sauce (nam pla) is described on page 500.

Steamed dishes are not common even in Thailand (most Thai dishes are stewed or stir-fried). But this is a lovely, mild, sweet dish I had at an upscale restaurant in Bangkok; I thought it was an innovation, but it turns out to be quite traditional. You can prepare the mixture ahead of time, cover, and refrigerate the ramekins until you are ready to steam them. Serve it with rice and a salad or vegetable dish. To make ground chicken yourself, cut boneless, skinless breasts or thighs into chunks and put them in a food processor; pulse until ground, being careful not to overprocess. You can use turkey or pork in place of the chicken if you like. Information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla) is on page 500.

While Peking Duck—which is a big deal—is reserved for special occasions, the simpler Cantonese version of roast duck is made far more routinely. It’s the duck you see hanging in rows in restaurant windows in every Chinatown in the country. Because this is often served at room temperature—or as an ingredient in stir-fries—you can make it ahead of time. If you want to serve it hot, accompany it with rice, noodles, or a panfried noodle cake like the one that forms the base for Shrimp with Crisp-Fried Noodles (page 534), and use hoisin as a dipping sauce.

This is a simple smoking technique that doesn’t take long, though if your aluminum foil seal is not tight, you run the risk of really smoking up your kitchen. So the first time you try it, pick a day that’s warm enough to open the windows and have a fan handy. (I don’t say this to dissuade you, but from very real experience. I do love this recipe, and it works well; but sometimes unfortunate events occur!) The duck is best cut up and served as part of a larger meal of Chinese food or as part of a multinational buffet or used in stir-fries. Chicken is even easier; you can skip the initial steaming if you like.

This Laotian version of arroz con pollo is a rich, flavorful, and gorgeous one-pot dish, unusual and quite easy. See page 500 for information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla).

A basic Thai-style curry, most often made with a convenient canned product from Thailand called “curry paste.” Here I make my own version, for a fresher taste. The technique is simple: First you brown the main ingredient; I use poultry here, but it can be meat, seafood, vegetables, or tofu, and the process would barely change. Then you cook the curry paste, loosening it with some liquid (typically coconut milk), and finish the dish by simmering. Straightforward and authentic. Serve with Basic Short-Grain Rice (page 507) or steamed Sticky Rice (page 508). See page 9 for information on dried shrimp and page 500 for details on Thai fish sauce (nam pla).

Squab is the best bird for this—in fact it’s one of the best eating birds there is—but it’s expensive and not easy to come by. If you use quail instead, you’ll need eight birds (one is not enough for even a light eater). If you use Cornish game hens, you’ll need only two. Note the simple finishing “sauce” of salt and pepper mixed together. In Vietnam, this is more common than salt alone. See page 500 for information on fish sauces like nam pla and nuoc mam.

This variation of Biryani (preceding recipe) is spicier, creamier, and somewhat more complicated. Go easy on the cayenne: this is meant to be a fragrant dish, not a fiery one. Serve with Dal (page 433) or any Indian-style vegetable.

Eggs are a significant source of protein in India, and when you eat a lot of eggs you look for ways to vary them. This is a standard preparation and a great one for lunch, a late supper, or for those who like really savory breakfasts. They’re also made as street food, which is how I first had them—prepared at a cart and eaten from a paper plate standing up (and, in a hurry, in the back of a car). In India, these eggs might have cooked lentils (Dal, page 433), black-eyed peas (page 434), or cooked shredded potatoes stirred into them.

When you open the lid of a pot containing good biryani—the Indian equivalent of arroz con pollo or paella—the smell should drive you wild: chicken (or lamb), butter, and spices should dominate, followed by the subtle aroma of basmati rice. When it’s prepared correctly, it seems to me, you can even smell the salt. This is one of India’s—indeed the world’s—great dishes, and yet too often in restaurants it is underwhelming, underspiced, and made without care. The spice mixture makes the dish exotic, but though it must be made carefully it isn’t difficult. (The chicken isn’t browned, which actually makes it easier than many similar preparations.) One key is to use real butter (in sufficient quantity; I’m sure the ultimate biryani has more butter than this version) and good spices: cardamom in the pod, whole cloves, cinnamon stick, and real saffron. Good coarse salt doesn’t hurt either and, needless to say, the better the chicken, the happier you’ll be when you bite into it. It’s also important to leave the lid on as much as possible. I’m not one of these people who believes that rice must be cooked undisturbed (on the contrary, I think it stands up to all kinds of abuse), but in this instance you want to make sure the chicken cooks fairly quickly and that as much of the aroma as possible remains in the pot. The goal, remember, is to smell everything. Serve with Dal (page 433) or any Indian-style vegetable.

In a largely vegetarian country, eggs take on more importance than they have traditionally in the States. Indians eat eggs in a variety of interesting ways and at all meals. Here they’re hard-cooked, simmered in a spicy tomato sauce, and served as a main course. It’s a great, easy, and inexpensive weeknight dish. Serve with Pilaf (page 513) or another rice preparation.

You cannot make “authentic” tandoori chicken without a tandoor, the clay oven closely associated with Indian cooking and used to make many of that country’s wonderful breads. But you can replicate the seasonings and grill or broil it so that it becomes very similar to the original. It isn’t difficult, and it’s really rewarding. Most tandoori chicken gets its bright red color from food coloring, but some cooks use a mild chile powder or a healthy dose of paprika, and that’s what I do here. Nice with Tomato Salad with Ginger (page 173) or Panfried Spicy Potatoes with Eggplant (page 476). Equally good with Paratha (page 559) or even plain rice.

Koreans are big on sesame seeds, and they’re big on marinating. They’re also big on big flavors, as this wonderful grilled chicken demonstrates. You can buy pretoasted sesame seeds and even sesame seed powder at Korean markets, something you might consider if you become addicted to this cuisine; but toasting them takes no time at all. If you’re really feeling energetic, serve this with Potato Pancakes with Scallions and Kimchi (page 474). But plain white rice and a salad would also be fine, especially if the salad were made with seaweed, like the one on page 200 (omit the chicken or shrimp).

Dark, glazed, and bittersweet, this is another marvel of simple cooking from Southeast Asia. It takes no longer than a classic European chicken sauté, yet when you make it you will impress not only your guests but yourself. You can stop after step 2 and have a Thai-style dish, which is good, or proceed to step 3 and have one of the best Vietnamese-style chicken dishes you’ve ever tasted. Either way, serve with rice. For information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla), see page 500.

No one does grilled chicken better than in Southeast Asia, where it seems to come straight from heaven. The key ingredients were all exotic and hard to find here just ten years ago, but now you can make this routinely. Once you try it, you probably will. This is wonderful teamed with Sticky Rice (page 508) and Green Papaya Salad (page 174). But it’s fine with any rice dish and vegetable, too, because it is really a star.

Lemongrass has a distinctive flavor that is instantly likable and very closely associated with the cuisine of Vietnam (it’s grown and used elsewhere, especially in Southeast Asia, but nowhere quite as widely). This dish is often served on a flat bed of plain rice noodles, but I like it best over a salad, dressed with a little nuoc cham. For information on Asian fish sauces like nam pla, see page 500. Other cuts of meat you can use here: pork, cut from either the loin or the shoulder.

The Philippines is not renowned for its cuisine, but chicken adobo is the well-known exception. The basic idea is this: You poach chicken in a mixture of diluted soy sauce, vinegar, and spices until it’s just about done, and then you grill or broil it. Before serving, the poaching liquid is boiled until reduced (thus eliminating any fears of bacterial contamination) and used as a sauce; it’s delicious over rice. If you know you are going to make the dish a day or two before eating it, you can poach the chicken in advance and refrigerate it, in or out of its liquid, until you’re ready, then proceed with the recipe. But because the grilling or broiling time will be a little longer than if you proceed without stopping—the cold chicken must heat through—you should use slightly lower heat to avoid burning. Serve this with plain white rice.

This is the recipe of my friend Vikram Vij, whose Vancouver restaurant, Vij’s, is among the best Indian restaurants in North America. Other cuts of meat you can use here: Beef tenderloin (filet mignon), cut into medallions. Pilaf (page 513), Dal (page 433), and other standard Indian accompaniments would do nicely here.

In India, it should be noted, much “mutton” is actually goat, and—except in the most expensive restaurants or wealthiest homes—this spice mixture would be used on meat that would later be braised in a yogurt sauce, much like the one for the meatballs on page 424. But with our relatively young, tender lamb, you can just rub the meat with the spices and grill. (If you refrigerate for an hour or a day, the taste will be somewhat improved, but it’s not imperative.) I find this dish just as elegant as the French version, page 358, especially when it is on the spicy but mild side, with the chiles omitted. Serve with simple Pilaf (page 513) and, if you like, Curried Carrots (page 451). Other cuts of meat you can use here: beef steaks like skirt, sirloin (New York) strip, or ribeye are all good treated this way.