The fast paced world we live in doesn’t promote quiet, solitary, leisurely moments, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t seek them out.   For me, reading is a perfect way to relax and forget the stress of the day as I lay in bed before turning the lights out each night.  More often than not I’m reading a cookbook, yet I also manage to fit in a fair number of other books (still food related of course!).  Below is my selection of books that have had the honor of helping me relax over the past few months.….

That’s right it’s time for the Project Foodie Winter reading list, I hope you enjoy these books as much as I have.

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Perhaps no other chef today has racked up quite so many impassioned fans, as well as so many ardent detractors as New York's David Chang.

When it comes to public opinion, though, the 32-year-old, James Beard award-winning chef will be the first to say he "could not f**king care less.''

Unless you've been living under a rock or happily subsisting on a vegan, raw food diet, you know all about the famously potty-mouthed, Korean-American chef who has elevated the porky, spicy goodness of Korean street food to dazzling new heights. You know about his phenomenally successful restaurants in New York - Momofuku Noodle Bar, Momofuku Ssam Bar, Momofuku Milk Bar, Momofuku Ko, and the soon-to-open Momofuku Ma Peche. And you know of the East Coast-West Coast ruckus he created last year when he told a New York audience, "F*****g every restaurant in San Francisco is just serving figs on a plate. Do something with your food."

Yeah, that David Chang.

Think what you will of him, but the man can cook, as evidenced by the droves lining up for his addicting pork buns, rich pork ramen, and his first cookbook, "Momofuku'' (Clarkson Potter). Written with New York Times writer, Peter Meehan, it was one of the most highly anticipated cookbooks of 2009.

Chang's personality comes to life in these pages, so much so that it's probably one of the few - if not only - mainstream cookbooks laced with profanity. Chang wouldn't have done the book any other way, though. When I interviewed him last year by phone, he explained, "People curse. If someone did a book about the New York trading floor, there would be more curse words in that book. We wanted to try to be as truthful as possible. And that's how we speak to one another. If we took that out, we would lose some of our integrity. That's not what we wanted to do. We didn't reinvent the wheel with this cookbook; we just told our story. If it rubs people the wrong way, I'm sorry but I don't really care. If they think I'm an a**hole, they're probably right.''

And what a story it is. The cookbook chronicles Chang's exploits -- from his journey to Japan to learn the art of ramen to working his a** off at New York's Café Boulud to his opening of Momofuku, which initially was met with a lackluster reception but eventually grew into the happening hangout for celebrated chefs and foodies. Meehan is a gifted writer who brings to life the sweat, tears, ferocity and stress of it all.

Like Chang's personality, itself, this book is not for the faint-of-heart cook. Sure, there are some simple recipes for things like bacon dashi, pickled shiitakes, and cherry tomato salad with soft tofu and shiso. But the bulk of the book is dedicated to dishes that take some doing, that are the furthest one can get from a "30-minute meal.''

The recipe alone for "Momofuku Ramen'' covers about 10 pages, as you have to make the broth, pork belly, garnishes and slow-poached egg. There are even instructions for rolling out your own ramen noodles, too, if you so choose. There's also a recipe for "Pig's Head Torchon,'' if you're so inclined. It requires - of course - a pig's head. But only half of one.

A lot of Chang's most popular dishes are included here, including the fried chicken and the bo ssam (a family-style affair, in which a whole pork butt is roasted, then served with raw oysters, kimchi and rice - all to wrap in Bibb lettuce leaves).

But if I was going to try my hand at cooking one dish first, it had to be the wildly popular pork buns. How good are they? When I was in New York last year, my husband and I ate them three out of four days we were there. And when we dined there, almost every table at Momofuku Noodle Bar and Momofuku Ssam Bar also was indulging in them.

Puffy, soft clam shell-shaped buns are filled with slices of deliriously juicy, fatty pork belly, a smear of hoisin sauce, a few pickled cucumbers, and a sprinkle of fresh, chopped scallions. You eat one, and just want more.

To replicate them at home, you have to cook the pork belly, make the super easy pickles, and make the buns (or buy them at an Asian grocery store).

Take a 3-pound piece of pork belly (again, easily available at Asian markets), smear on a rub of kosher salt and sugar, and let it sit in the fridge for 6 to 24 hours, before roasting in the oven for about two hours. Then, you chill it overnight to help compact its shape so that slices can be more neatly cut from it.

Easy enough. But the measurements make far more rub than you'll need. In fact, when I make this again, I'd definitely cut the amount of sugar and salt in half. The directions also don't specify how much of the rub to use, and if you use too heavy a hand, you'll end up with a fairly salty piece of meat. So, go easy.

I decided to make my buns from scratch, even though the fact that the recipe makes 50 of them seemed rather daunting at first. But in reality, it's not a massive ball of dough. And the extra buns do freeze well.

The yeasted bread flour-dough comes together easily in a stand mixer with sugar, nonfat dry milk, and a little pork fat or shortening. After the first rise, the dough is divided up into 50 little balls, which each get flattened into ovals that are folded in half. The directions state to fold the buns over a greased chopstick. I would add that you should run the chopstick along the inside of the bun, so that you smear the halves with the shortening. That way, after they are steamed, they don't end up sticking together so tightly that it makes stuffing them later more cumbersome.

The buns ended up soft and fluffy. Although the pork belly recipe says there's enough meat to stuff only a dozen buns, I found it was enough for more like 30 buns.

The quick pickles were a revelation. So good and so easy to make - just slices of Kirby cucumbers tossed with a little salt and sugar. That's it. These would be great on other types of sandwiches, too.

All in all, it was a pretty good rendition of what I had enjoyed at Chang's restaurants. My only regret was that I couldn't find a slab of pork belly as thick as the ones restaurant chefs have access to. Mine was probably half as thick (and with half as much fat), which made it just a tad less melt-in-your-mouth than Chang's.

Chang may not give a flying cr*p about what you think of him or his food. But I'd happily tap him on the shoulder to tell him his pork bun recipe is pretty damn fine. Then, I'd duck, of course.

Momofuku Pork Buns

From Momofuku by David Chang and Peter Meehan, (Clarkson Potter, 2009)

SERVES 1

• 1 Steamed Bun, see below
• About 1 tablespoon hoisin sauce
• 3 or 4 slices Quick-Pickled Cucumbers, see below
• 3 thick slices Pork Belly, see below
• 1 scant tablespoon thinly sliced scallion (green and white)
• Sriracha, for serving

It's weird to be "famous" for something. Can you imagine being Neil Diamond and having to sing "Cracklin' Rosie" every time you get onstage for the rest of your life? Neither can I. But if Momofuku is "famous" for something, it's these steamed pork buns. Are they good? They are. Are they something that sprang from our collective imagination like Athena out of Zeus's forehead? Hell no. They're just our take on a pretty common Asian food formula: steamed bread + tasty meat = good eating.

And they were an eleventh-hour addition to the menu. Almost a mistake.

No one thought they were a good idea or that anyone would want to eat pork belly sandwiches.

I got into the whole steamed bread thing when I stayed in Beijing. I ate char siu bao-steamed buns stuffed with dark, sweet roast pork-morning, noon, and night from vendors on the street who did nothing but satisfy that city's voracious appetite for steamed buns. When I lived in Tokyo, I'd pick up a niku-man-the Japanese version, with a milder-flavored filling-every time I passed the local convenience store. They're like the 7-Eleven hot dogs of Tokyo, with an appeal not unlike that of the soft meatiness of White Castle hamburgers.

And in the early days of my relationship with Oriental Garden-the restaurant in Manhattan's Chinatown where I've eaten more meals than anywhere else on the planet-I'd always order the Peking duck, which the restaurant serves with folded-over steamed buns with fluted edges, an inauthentic improvement on the more common accompaniment of scallion pancakes. Char siu bao and niku-man were influential, but the Peking duck service at Oriental Garden was the most important, if only because it was here in the city and I could go back and study what made their buns so good-and also because the owner of the restaurant was willing to help me out, at least after a point.

After I'd eaten his Peking duck about a million times, I asked Mr. Choi, the owner (whom I now call Uncle Choi, because he's the Chinese uncle I never had), to show me how to make the steamed buns. For as many times as I had eaten steamed buns, I had never thought about making them, but with Noodle Bar about to open, I had the menu on my mind. He laughed and put me off for weeks before finally relenting. (He likes to remind me that I am the kung-fu-the student, the seeker, the workman-and he is the si-fu-the master.) But instead of taking me back into the kitchen, he handed me a scrap of paper with an address, the name John on it, and a note scribbled in Chinese that I couldn't read. 

Have you ever seen the blaxploitation martial arts movie The Last Dragon from the eighties, where the dude is in constant search for some type of master who can provide some wisdom, and in the end it turns out to be a hoax-the master's place is a fortune cookie factory? Probably not. But that's how I felt when the place I was sent to learn the secret of steamed bread turned out to be May May Foods, a local company that supplied dozens of New York restaurants with premade dim sum items, including buns, for decades before it closed in 2007. The guy there, John, showed me the dead-simple process: a little mixing, a little steaming, and presto! buns. It turns out they are made from a simple white bread dough, mantou (not so different from, say, Wonder Bread), that is steamed instead of baked.

But when I saw the flour everywhere and tried to imagine that mess in our tiny, already overcrowded kitchen, I immediately placed an order. We didn't have the space to attempt them then, and we continued to buy them from Chinatown bakeries even after May May closed.

If you have that option-a Chinese bakery or restaurant where you can easily buy them, or even a well-stocked freezer section at a local Chinese grocery store-I encourage you to exercise it without any pangs of guilt. How many sandwich shops bake their own bread? Right. Don't kill yourself. But don't be put off by the idea of making them either. They're easy and they freeze perfectly.

Here's the recipe for our pork buns, which you can increase ad infinitum to make more to share.

1. Heat the bun in a steamer on the stovetop. It should be hot to the touch, which will take almost no time with just-made buns and 2 to 3 minutes with frozen buns.

2. Grab the bun from the steamer and flop it open on a plate. Slather the inside with the hoisin sauce, using a pastry brush or the back of a spoon. Arrange the pickles on one side of the fold in the bun and the slices of pork belly on the other. Scatter the belly and pickles with sliced scallion, fold closed, and voilà: pork bun. Serve with sriracha.

Pork Belly

for ramen, pork buns & just about anything else

From Momofuku by David Chang and Peter Meehan, (Clarkson Potter, 2009)

Make enough pork for 6 to 8 bowls of ramen or about 12 pork buns

• One 3-pound slab skinless pork belly
• 1/4 cup kosher salt
• 1/4 cup sugar

The best part of this belly, besides the unctuous, fatty meat itself, which we use in two of our most popular dishes at the restaurants-ramen and pork buns-is the layer that settles at the bottom of the pan after you chill it. Most cooks who are familiar with it know it from making duck confit, and they know it's liquid gold (or jellied gold, if you want to get technical). We label containers of it "pork jelly." I add it to broths, to taré, to vegetable sautés-anything that would benefit from a hit of meaty flavor and the glossier mouthfeel the gelatin adds.

To harvest it, decant the fat and juices from the pan you cooked the belly in into a glass measuring cup or other clear container. Let it cool until the fat separates from the meat juices, which will settle to the bottom. Pour or scoop off the fat and reserve it for cooking. Save the juices, which will turn to a ready-to-use meat jelly after a couple of hours in the fridge. The meat jelly will keep for 1 week in the refrigerator or indefinitely in the freezer.

We get pork belly without the skin. If you can only find skin-on belly, don't fret. If the meat is cold and your knife is sharp, the skin is a cinch to slice off. And you can save it to make the Chicharrón we serve as a first bite at Momofuku Ko.

1. Nestle the belly into a roasting pan or other oven-safe vessel that holds it snugly. Mix together the salt and sugar in a small bowl and rub the mix all over the meat; discard any excess salt-and-sugar mixture. Cover the container with plastic wrap and put it into the fridge for at least 6 hours, but no longer than 24.

2. Heat the oven to 450ºF.

3. Discard any liquid that accumulated in the container. Put the belly in the oven, fat side up, and cook for 1 hour, basting it with the rendered fat at the halfway point, until it's an appetizing golden brown.

4. Turn the oven temperature down to 250ºF and cook for another 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes, until the belly is tender-it shouldn't be falling apart, but it should have a down pillow-like yield to a firm finger poke. Remove the pan from the oven and transfer the belly to a plate. Decant the fat and the meat juices from the pan and reserve (see the headnote). Allow the belly to cool slightly.

5. When it's cool enough to handle, wrap the belly in plastic wrap or aluminum foil and put it in the fridge until it's thoroughly chilled and firm. (You can skip this step if you're pressed for time, but the only way to get neat, nice-looking slices is to chill the belly thoroughly before slicing it.)

6. Cut the pork belly into 1/2-inch-thick slices that are about 2 inches long. Warm them for serving in a pan over medium heat, just for a minute or two, until they are jiggly soft and heated through. Use at once.

Steamed Buns

From Momofuku by David Chang and Peter Meehan, (Clarkson Potter, 2009)

MAKES 50 BUNS

Okay, fifty buns is a lot of buns. But the buns keep in the freezer for months and months without losing any quality, and if you cut the recipe down any more than this, there's barely enough stuff in the bowl of the mixer for the dough hook to pick up. So clear out a couple of hours and some space in the freezer and get to work.

• 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon active dry yeast
• 1 1/2 cups water, at room temperature
• 4 1/4 cups bread flour
• 6 tablespoons sugar
• 3 tablespoons nonfat dry milk powder
• 1 tablespoon kosher salt
• Rounded 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/3 cup rendered pork fat or vegetable shortening, at room temperature, plus more for shaping the buns, as needed
  

1. Combine the yeast and water in the bowl of a stand mixer outfitted with the dough hook. Add the flour, sugar, milk powder, salt, baking powder, baking soda, and fat and mix on the lowest speed possible, just above a stir, for 8 to 10 minutes. The dough should gather together into a neat, not-too-tacky ball on the hook. When it does, lightly oil a medium mixing bowl, put the dough in it, and cover the bowl with a dry kitchen towel. Put it in a turned-off oven with a pilot light or other warmish place and let rise until the dough doubles in bulk, about 1 hour 15 minutes.

2. Punch the dough down and turn it out onto a clean work surface. Using a bench scraper or a knife, divide the dough in half, then divide each half into 5 equal pieces. Gently roll the pieces into logs, then cut each log into 5 pieces, making 50 pieces total. They should be about the size of a Ping-Pong ball and weigh about 25 grams, or a smidge under an ounce. Roll each piece into a ball. Cover the armada of little dough balls with a draping of plastic wrap and allow them to rest and rise for 30 minutes.

3. Meanwhile, cut out fifty 4-inch squares of parchment paper. Coat a chopstick with whatever fat you're working with.

4. Flatten one ball with the palm of your hand, then use a rolling pin to roll it out into a 4-inch-long oval. Lay the greased chopstick across the middle of the oval and fold the oval over onto itself to form the bun shape. Withdraw the chopstick, leaving the bun folded, and put the bun on a square of parchment paper. Stick it back under the plastic wrap (or a dry kitchen towel) and form the rest of the buns. Let the buns rest for 30 to 45 minutes: they will rise a little.

5. Set up a steamer on the stove. Working in batches so you don't crowd the steamer, steam the buns on the parchment squares for 10 minutes. Remove the parchment. You can use the buns immediately (reheat them for a minute or so in the steamer if necessary) or allow to cool completely, then seal in plastic freezer bags and freeze for up to a few months. Reheat frozen buns in a stovetop steamer for 2 to 3 minutes, until puffy, soft, and warmed all the way through.

Quick Salt Pickles

From Momofuku by David Chang and Peter Meehan, (Clarkson Potter, 2009)

Makes about 2 cups

A recipe seems excessive for these types of quickly made salt-and-sugar pickles, because the technique for making them is so simple: Sprinkle some thinly sliced vegetables with a 3:1 mix of sugar to kosher salt and toss. Ten to 20 minutes later, they're ready to eat. The resulting pickles have a fresh snap.

• 2 meaty Kirby cucumbers, cut into 1/8-inch-thick disks
• 1 tablespoon sugar, or more to taste
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt, or more to taste

Combine cucumber slices with sugar and salt in a small mixing bowl and toss to coat with the sugar and salt. Let sit for 5 to 10 minutes.

Taste: If the pickles are too sweet or too salty, put them in a colander, rinse off the seasoning, and dry in a kitchen towel. Taste again and add more sugar or salt as needed. Serve after 5 to 10 minutes, or refrigerate for up to 4 hours.

About Momofuku

Never before has there been a phenomenon like Momofuku. A once-unrecognizable word, it's now synonymous with the award-winning restaurants of the same name in New York City: Momofuku Noodle Bar, Ssäm Bar, Ko, and Milk Bar. Chef David Chang has single-handedly revolutionized cooking in America with his use of bold Asian flavors and impeccable ingredients, his mastery of the humble ramen noodle, and his thorough devotion to pork. Momofuku is both the story and the recipes behind the cuisine that has changed the modern-day culinary landscape.

Available at Amazon.com

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A few months back the armchair traveler in me found a new place to add to my "Must Visit" list. That place was Big Sur, California. I recently had a chance to re-visit that idyllic place with the book "My Nepenthe" by writer and food stylist Romney Steele.  My Nepenthe is a wonderful combination of memoir and cookbook.  It tells the story of Romney's grandparents, Billy and Lolly Fassett, who founded Nepenthe Restaurant and Cafe Kevah in Big Sur, CA.  Nepenthe Restaurant became a favorite place to visit and temporary home to many writers, artists, and musicians throughout the 1950's and 60's.  But, more importantly, My Nepenthe talks about Romney's experiences growing up there and how so much of who she is today is because of her time spent in Big Sur.  

Big Sur was and still is one of the those places that allows you to really be who you are meant to be.  A culture and environment that is conductive to creativity, and if we're talking about it here on Project Foodie that also means great food.  The Food at Nepenthe was just as important to Big Sur as the people that passed through and like many of us, there are meals that take Romney back to some of the best times of her life, mainly those times spent at Big Sur.  

Truly a girl after my own heart, Romney shares with us her recipe for the Meyer Lemon Tart (recipe below). A simple yet elegant dessert that works every time. I'm always looking for a way to make use of my favorite tuber, the sweet potato, and her Sweet Potato Gratin (recipe below) showcases its versatility in savory dishes beautifully.

Sweet Potato Gratin

From My Nepenthe: Bohemian Tales of Food, Family, and Big Sur by Romney Steele (Andrews McMeel Publishing, 2009)

Serves 6 to 8

Here is a more elegant version of my grandmother's cheesy potato bake, and yet it is as simple to make. Serve alongside any main course, or on its own with a brightly dressed salad to counterpoint the richness of the cream.

• 1 cup whole milk
• 2/3 cup heavy cream
• 1 clove garlic, peeled
• 1 sprig fresh thyme
• Dash grated fresh nutmeg
• 2 pounds sweet potatoes, preferably garnet yams, peeled
• 1 pound Yukon Gold or Yellow Finn potatoes, scrubbed
• 2 tablespoons butter, plus more for buttering the dish
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• ¾ cup grated Gruyère cheese
• ¼ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
• 1 or 2 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme
  

Preheat the oven to 375°F. Lightly butter a medium gratin dish.

In a medium saucepan, combine the milk, cream, garlic, thyme sprig, and nutmeg and heat to just under a boil. Remove from the heat, cover, and steep for 10 minutes. Strain.

Thinly slice the sweet potatoes, using a mandolin or a very sharp knife. Similarly slice the unpeeled Yukon Gold potatoes. Layer half of each in the prepared gratin dish, gently pressing down as you go. Dot with 1 tablespoon butter and season with salt and pepper. Sprinkle with half the Gruyère, half the Parmesan, and half the thyme. Repeat with the remaining potatoes, butter, herbs, salt and pepper, and cheeses.

Pour the cream mixture over the top.

Cover tightly with aluminum foil and bake for 50 minutes. Uncover, increase the temperature to 400°F, and continue baking for 15 to 20 minutes, until the potatoes are cooked through and the top is golden. Let sit 5 minutes before serving.

Meyer Lemon Tart

From My Nepenthe: Bohemian Tales of Food, Family, and Big Sur by Romney Steele (Andrews McMeel Publishing, 2009)

Makes 1 (8 or 9-inch) tart, serving 8 to 10

Sweet Dough:

• ½ cup (1 stick) butter, softened
• 4 tablespoons confectioners' sugar
• Pinch salt
• 1 cup flour

Lemon Curd:

• 5 or 6 Meyer lemons (about 1 cup juice)
• 3 eggs plus 3 egg yolks
• 7/8 cup granulated sugar, or to taste
• 4 tablespoons butter
  

A lemony custard tart is always a crowd pleaser and looks beautiful on display. It is often made around the holidays at the restaurant and is one of my most favorite desserts to make at home. The sweet dough crust is easy and simply pressed into the pan, making it a snap to put together.

To make the dough, beat the butter with the sugar, salt, and flour until just
combined. Press the dough evenly into a 9-inch round fluted tart pan. Freeze the prepared tart shell for at least 30 minutes before baking.

Meanwhile, make the lemon curd. Zest half the lemons (setting the zest aside), then extract the juice from all the lemons to make about 1 cup. In a medium nonreactive, heatproof bowl, whisk the eggs and sugar until well combined, then whisk in the lemon juice.

Place the bowl over a gently simmering pot of water and whisk continuously until it begins to thicken, about 5 minutes. Whisk in the butter in pieces; cook, stirring frequently, until the curd coats the back of the spoon, another 5 minutes or so. This is a good time to taste and adjust the sweetness, as needed.

Strain the curd into a separate bowl, then whisk in the zest. Press a piece of plastic wrap on the surface while cooling.

Preheat the oven to 375°F.

Bake the tart shell for 20 to 25 minutes until golden brown. Cool slightly, then spoon the lemon curd into the shell, spreading evenly with a spatula. Bake for 7 to 10 minutes, until just set but still slightly jiggly in the middle.

Serve chilled with a dollop of lightly whipped cream or with fresh berries.

About My Nepenthe

Located on the Big Sur cliffs 808 feet above the Pacific Ocean, Nepenthe Restaurant boasts sweeping views of the rugged Santa Lucia Mountains and the wild south coast of Monterey County. Angular mountains plunge into the crashing surf below, and on a clear day there is no limit to the scenery, unspoiled and immense in nature. Opened in 1949 by the Fassett family, the restaurant is nestled among native oak trees and a historic log cabin (now faced by brick) that was once owned by Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth.

Available at Amazon.com  

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Linguine with Zucchini and Onions from Thiry Minute Pasta by Giuliano Hazan

There seems to be an entire new generation of people out there who really want to learn how to cook and here at Project Foodie we were lucky enough to get our hands on a few good cookbooks that are ideal for those just starting out.

Get Cooking by Mollie Katzen (Harper Studio, 2009)

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Crispy Pan-Fried Fish Fillets

From Get Cooking by Mollie Katzen (Harper Studio, 2009)

Utterly simple is the principle behind these classic crunchy-coated fish fillets. The process is surprisingly easy, once you set up the little assembly line of beaten egg and seasoned breadcrumbs. This fish cooks quickly and needs to go directly from the stove to the table without passing Go, so have your side dishes ready ahead of time. This recipe uses both olive oil and butter. Just a tablespoon of butter will infuse the oil with an extra layer of rich flavor, while keeping the coating crisp and light.

• 1 pound white fish fillets, such as sole, snapper, or cod (four 4-ounce pieces, 1/2-inch thick each)
• 1 large egg
• 1 teaspoon water
• 1/2 cup panko (Japanese-style breadcrumbs)
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 tablespoon butter
• Lemon or limes wedges, for serving

1. Rinse the fish under cold, running water, then pat it dry with paper towels and set aside.

2. Break the egg into a pie pan, then beat it with a fork or small whisk, adding the teaspoon of water as you go. When no egg white is still visible, stop beating and set aside.

3. Combine the panko, salt, and pepper on a dinner plate. Have a second dinner plate ready to hold the coated fillets.

4. One at a time, dip the fillets into the egg and then let any excess egg drip off back into the pie pan. Put each moistened fillet into the panko mixture, pressing it down firmly so the crumbs will adhere. Then turn it over, and press on the second side into the crumbs until it becomes completely coated all over. Shake off any extra panko mixture, and transfer the coated fillet to the clean plate.

5. Place a large (10- to 12-inch-or big enough to hold all 4 fish fillets) heavy skillet over medium heat.  After about a minute, add the olive oil and swirl to coat the pan. Add the butter, and swirl until it melts into the oil.

6. Carefully transfer the coated fillets to the hot pan. Cook undisturbed for 2 to 3 minutes, or until deep golden brown on the bottom.

7. Use a metal spatula to carefully loosen each fillet, being careful to keep its coating intact. Flip each fillet over, and cook on the second side for another 2 to 3 minutes, or until that side is deep golden brown. A sharp knife should insert easily into the thickest part of the fish, revealing opaque flesh. If necessary, cook a minute or so longer.

8. Serve hot, accompanying each portion with a wedge or two of lemon or lime.

Makes 4 servings

Get Creative

• These fillets are great with mayonnaise or with store-bought tartar sauce.
• Serve with Roasted Fingerlings; be sure to start them far enough in advance so they're ready when the fish is done.
• Mostly Classic Cole Slaw also makes a nice accompaniment, and can be made up to a day ahead of time.

Why Panko?

Panko is the name of a kind of very light, coarse-textured Japanese-style breadcrumb, often sold in either the Asian section of supermarkets or with the breadcrumbs; it comes packed in a box or bag. The porous texture and rough oblong shape of panko crumbs makes them the absolute best choice when you want to create an extremely-yet-delicately crisp outer coating in any pan-fried or baked food. If you can't find panko, use ordinary

Linguine with Zucchini and Onions

From Thirty Minute Pasta by Giuliano Hazan (Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 2009)

Linguine alle Zucchine e Cipolle

My mother used to teach a dish of zucchini sautéed with sliced onions that was always a favorite of the students at her cooking school in Bologna. This is a variation that I find is delicious as a pasta sauce. Do not be afraid of overcooking the zucchini. This is a sauce, after all, and cooking the zucchini longer makes them richer and sweeter.

Serves 4

• 1 medium to large sweet yellow onion
• 4 tablespoons butter
• Salt
• 1¼ pounds zucchini
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 1 pound linguine
• 1/3 cup freshly grated
• Parmigiano-Reggiano

1. Fill a pot for the pasta with about 6 quarts of water, place over high heat, and bring to a boil.

2. Peel the onions and very thinly slice them crosswise. Put the butter in a 12-inch skillet, add the sliced onions, and place over medium-high heat. Season lightly with salt and sauté until the onions begin to turn a rich, golden color, 6 to 8 minutes.

3. While the onions are sautéing, wash the zucchini, cut off the ends, and slice into half moons about 1 inch thick.

4. When the onions are ready, add the zucchini and season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the zucchini are quite tender and have started lightly browning, 12 to 15 minutes.

5. After the zucchini have cooked about 10 minutes, add about 2 tablespoons salt to the boiling pasta water, add the linguine, and stir until all the strands are submerged. Cook until al dente.

6. When the pasta is done, drain well, toss with the sauce and the Parmigiano- Reggiano, and serve at once.

Chorizo Quiche

Reprinted from the book FRESH MEXICO by MARCELA VALLADOLID.  Copyright (c) 2009 by MARCELA VALLADOLID. Published by Clarkson Potter, a division of Random House,  Inc.

Serves 6-8

Chorizo Quiche from Mexico Fresh. Photography by Amy Kalyn Sims (c) 2009.

• Nonstick cooking spray
• 1 ½ cups all-purpose flour, plus more for rolling
• ¼ teaspoon salt
• 8 tablespoons (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cubed
• 6 ounces raw chorizo, casing removed
• 5 large eggs
• ½ cup whole milk
• ½ cup heavy cream
• 1 ½ cups grated Emmenthal cheese (about 6 ounces)
• 1 cup diced boiled potato
  

Spray a 9-inch glass pie dish with nonstick cooking spray.

Mix the flour and salt in a food processor. Add the butter and pulse to form a coarse meal. With the motor running, add 6 tablespoons cold water in a slow stream, processing until the dough comes together. Then gather the dough into a ball and transfer it to a floured surface. Roll the dough out to form a 12-inch round. Transfer the dough to the prepared pie dish.

Crimp the edges between your fingers to make a decorative border, removing any excess dough. Freeze the crust for 20 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 425°F.

Line the crust with foil and fill it with pie weights or uncooked dried beans. Bake for 15 minutes. Then remove the foil and beans and continue to bake for 5 minutes, or until the crust is golden brown. Let the crust cool completely. (The crust can be made 1 day ahead. Cover and store at room temperature.) Leave the oven on.

Cook the chorizo in a dry medium-size heavy saute pan over medium heat for 8 minutes, or until dry and crisp. Let the chorizo cool on a paper towel-lined plate.

Whisk the eggs, milk, and cream in a large bowl. Mix in the chorizo, cheese, and potato. Pour the mixture into the cooled crust. Bake for 35 minutes, or until the filling is puffed and a knife inserted into the center comes out clean. Serve hot or at room temperature, cut into wedges.

Beef and Broccoli Stroganoff

From Anyone can Cook: Step-by-Step Recipes just for You by Better Homes and Gardens (Wiley, 2009)

• 3 cups dried wide egg noodles
• 3 cups broccoli spears (12 ounces)
• 1/2 cup dairy sour cream
• 1 1/2 teaspoons prepared horseradish
• 1/2 teaspoon snipped fresh dill or 1-2 teaspoon dried dillweed
• 1 pound beef top sirloin steak
• 1 small onion, cut into 1/2-inch slices
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1 tablespoon cooking oil
• 4 teaspoons all-purpose flour
• 1 14-ounce can beef broth
• 3 tablespoons tomato paste
• 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

1. Cook noodles according to package directions, adding broccoli the last 5 minutes of cooking. Drain; keep warm (below). Stir together the sour cream, horseradish, and dill. Cover; chill.

2. Trim fat from beef. Cut into bite-size strips. In a 10-inch skillet cook and stir onion, garlic, and half of the beef in hot oil until onion is tender and beef is slightly pink in center. Remove from skillet. Repeat with remaining beef. Return rest of meat mixture to the skillet; sprinkle flour and 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper over meat. Stir to coat.

3. Stir in broth, tomato paste, and Worcestershire sauce. Cook and stir until thickened and bubbly. Cook and stir for 1 minute more. Divide noodle-broccoli mixture among 4 serving bowls. Spoon beef mixture over noodles. Top with sour cream mixture.

Makes 4 servings.

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