Minimalist's 25 Greatest Recipes by Mark Bittman

January 25, 2011, 7:11 pm

The Minimalist Chooses 25 of His Favorites
By MARK BITTMAN
Evan Sung for The New York Times Pernil, garlicky slow-cooked pork.
Picking 25 favorites out of more than 1,000 recipes from The Minimalist — the last weekly column appears this week — is an awesome task. But each of these, listed in order of appearance, represents something special either to me or to regular readers of The Minimalist, or in a couple of cases — most notably Jim Lahey’s bread — to a wider audience. It’s a list that will make you want to cook, I think. What are your favorites?

RED PEPPER PURÉE The first Minimalist. Check out the roasting technique; it works. (Published Sept. 17, 1997)

CHICKEN UNDER A BRICK So popular that a group in Santa Cruz, Calif., made a T-shirt that reads, “We love chicken under a brick.” (Oct. 22, 1997)

PEAR, GORGONZOLA AND MESCLUN SALAD Not my invention, but truly a ’90s classic. (Nov. 19, 1997)

SPAGHETTI WITH FRIED EGGS Made this the other night; insanely easy and soothing. (March 10, 1999)

BRAISED SQUID WITH ARTICHOKES Braised fish, artichokes, sometimes potatoes, always garlic and powerful olive oil; that’s Liguria. (April 28, 1999)

PASTA ALLA GRICIA The basis for some of the simplest and best pasta dishes I know. (Nov. 8, 2000)

PUMPKIN PANNA COTTA The headline on this Thanksgiving column said it all: “No Time for Crust? Who Needs It, Anyway?” (Nov. 22, 2000)

WATERMELON AND TOMATO SALAD A Jean-Georges Vongerichten special; especially good with feta. (July 24, 2002)

45-MINUTE ROAST TURKEY Many readers swear by this one. (Nov. 20, 2002)

CRISP-BRAISED DUCK LEGS WITH AROMATIC VEGETABLES This has many of the qualities of duck confit — but no fussiness. (Dec. 25, 2002)

SICHUAN CHICKEN WITH CHILIES Overcook the chicken, overdo the chilies, you’ll be happy. (Sept. 3, 2003)

BLACK COD BROILED WITH MISO Yes, you can do this at home. (April 14, 2004)

STIR-FRIED CHICKEN WITH KETCHUP Perhaps the highest and best use of ketchup. (May 12, 2004)

CORN SALAD WITH SOY AND TOMATO Soy and tomato is a marriage made in heaven; the corn adds crunch. (Aug. 17, 2005)

PARSLEY-HERB SALAD Think of parsley as a green, not an herb, and you get the idea. (Sept. 7, 2005)

SOCCA (FARINATA) From my first taste of this, I’ve been an addict. Best made at home. (Oct. 19, 2005)

STIR-FRIED LAMB WITH CHILI, CUMIN AND GARLIC As soon as I tasted this, in Flushing, Queens, I knew I had to make it. (Sept. 20, 2006)

NO-KNEAD BREAD My most popular recipe, and it isn’t even mine. Credit Jim Lahey. (Nov. 8, 2006)

SCRAMBLED EGGS WITH SHRIMP I know of no dish that exploits the texture of shrimp better. (Jan. 17, 2007)

PERNIL Just the other day, a guy stopped me on the subway and said, “Your pernil is terrific.” It’s not really mine, but I made it that weekend, and it is terrific. (Jan. 2, 2008)

SOUTH INDIAN EGGPLANT CURRY If you are an eggplant fan, this will really turn you on. If you’re not, this will make you one. (April 2, 2008)

BRAISED TURKEY Cooked this way, turkey will remind you of pork. (Nov. 12, 2008)

FENNEL AND CELERY SALAD My wife’s staple. Try it with toasted hazelnuts or pine nuts. (Nov. 26, 2008)

MEXICAN CHOCOLATE TOFU PUDDING What? Yes. (May 20, 2009)

MORE-VEGETABLE-LESS-EGG FRITTATA Just enough eggs to hold it together. One of those transformative recipes. (July 15, 2009)








September 17, 1997
Minimalist; Every Day, a Red Pepper Day
By Mark Bittman
THE Minimalist's quest -- to create exciting dishes with the smallest number of ingredients and the least fuss -- can take many paths. One is to search out and identify the sort of simple embellishments that unfailingly turns the ordinary find at the supermarket into something transcendent.

Roasted red pepper puree can do just that. For example, spoon some of the intensely flavored, deeply colored puree (at room temperature or gently warmed) onto the plate like a sauce, and lay a piece of grilled chicken or fish on top of it. Then sprinkle it with any chopped fresh herb of your choice. That's it, a stunning dish.

This pepper puree ought to be a staple, something like mayonnaise. At its most fundamental, red pepper puree is no more than a combination of bell peppers and olive oil. And since making a batch is about as difficult as scrambling an egg -- and the puree stores fairly well -- there's little reason not to have it on hand.

The only difficulty comes in roasting the peppers, which tenderizes them while concentrating and rendering their flavorful liquid, a task many recipes make needlessly complex.

Some suggest broiling or grilling, but the first requires near-constant attention and the second is only worth it if the grill is already going. Others would have you char peppers over an open burner, which risks not only the stove top but also the hand. That's bad enough for one pepper; for two, the critical mass for making puree, or for four (a good quantity for the purpose) the process is absurd.

The best method is to roast the peppers at high heat -- 475 degrees or higher -- turning the peppers occasionally. When the peppers collapse, they're done.

You can, of course, skip this step entirely by beginning with canned or bottled ''pimentos,'' which are in fact roasted peppers packed with natural or chemical preservatives. There definitely will be a noticeable loss of flavor, however.

Once roasted and peeled, pureeing takes just a minute in a food processor. I like to add some of the peppers' liquid, along with salt and olive oil. That's the basic preparation.

Then, like mayonnaise, the puree's personality can be changed at will, by adding spices and other flavorings. Cumin or chili pepper are good for starters, a bit of caramelized onion is quite nice, as is chopped, raw garlic.

A Sauce With Much to Give

Ten simple uses for red pepper puree:

Add a couple of tablespoons to the liquid of any simmering grain: rice, couscous, quinoa. The color is glorious.

Use in place of or with tomatoes in pasta sauce. For example, saute several vegetables and bind them with puree during the last minute of cooking.

Fold into omelets or scrambled eggs, with or without cooked vegetables.

Combine with basil, grated Parmesan and garlic for a pesto-like pasta sauce.

Beat in lemon juice, salt and pepper to make a beautiful salad dressing.

Spread on crostini, bruschetta or pizza before baking.

Use as a finishing sauce for roasted eggplant, zucchini or other vegetables.

Serve as an embellishment for grilled or roasted fish, meat or chicken.

Stir into soups or stews just before serving.

Mash a couple of tablespoons of puree with a little olive oil, minced garlic and cracked black pepper into fresh, salty cheese -- feta or goat, for example -- to make a dip for bread or vegetables.

RED PEPPER PUREE

Total time: 1 hour

4 large red bell peppers, about 2 pounds

Salt to taste

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil.

1. Preheat the oven to 475 degrees. Line a roasting pan with enough foil to fold over the top later. Place the peppers in the pan, and roast, turning the peppers about every 10 minutes. Roast until the peppers collapse, about 40 minutes.

2. Remove from the oven, fold the foil over the peppers and allow them to cool.

3. Working over a bowl to catch the peppers' liquid, remove and discard the core, skin and seeds.

4. Place the pepper pulp in a food processor with about 2 tablespoons of the reserved liquid. Add 1/4 teaspoon salt, and turn on the machine; drizzle the oil in through the feed tube. Stop the machine, taste and add additional salt or olive oil, if necessary. Store, well covered, in the refrigerator for several days, or in the freezer for up to a month.

Yield: 2 cups (about 16 servings).

Approximate nutritional analysis per serving: 70 calories, 7 grams fat, 0 milligrams cholesterol, 2 milligrams sodium (before salting), 1 gram protein, 3 grams carbohydrate.



October 22, 1997
The Minimalist; Getting Chicken Right: Just Add Bricks
By Mark Bittman
IT isn't easy to cook chicken so that its skin is crisp and its interior juicy. Grilling, roasting and sauteing all have their problems.

But there is an effective and easy method for getting it right, using two ovenproof skillets. A split chicken is placed in one of them, skin side down. The other skillet goes on top as a weight, which helps retain moisture and insures thorough browning. A couple of clean rocks or bricks can be used instead of the second skillet. (If the weight of choice doesn't seem terribly pristine, it can be wrapped in foil.)

The chicken is seasoned and marinated for a few minutes, or longer if there's time. Then it's seared in one skillet and weighted with the other before being transferred to a hot oven. Moving the hot, heavy pan from range to oven takes two hands, but the effort is well worth it. As a bonus at the end, much of the chicken's natural juices remain at the bottom of the pan; they make a perfect sauce, especially for rice.

The dish is well known in Italy, where it is called chicken al mattone (a mattone is a heavy tile), but as a knowledgeable friend points out, it has roots in Russia as well. There it's called chicken tapaka (a tapa is a heavy skillet).

Until recently, I had always seasoned this dish as described below -- with olive oil, garlic, rosemary and lemon, a standard quartet often found in Italian chicken dishes. But I have found several successful variations.

-- Use different herbs; sage, savory and tarragon are all great. Russians use paprika.

-- Try a light dusting of cinnamon, ginger and/or other ''sweet'' spice.

-- Use minced shallots instead of garlic.

-- Vary the acidic ingredient: balsamic or Sherry vinegar, or lime can all pinch-hit for the lemon, depending upon the other flavors.

-- Use clarified butter or a neutral oil, like canola or corn, in place of the olive oil.

-- Leave European flavors behind entirely and make the dish Asian, using peanut oil and a mixture of minced garlic, ginger and scallions. Finish the dish with lime and cilantro, or soy sauce and sesame oil.

CHICKEN UNDER A BRICK

Time: 45 minutes, plus optional marinating time

1 whole 3- to 4-pound chicken, trimmed of excess fat, rinsed, dried and split, backbone removed

1 tablespoon fresh minced rosemary or 1 teaspoon dried rosemary

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1 tablespoon peeled and coarsely chopped garlic

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 sprigs fresh rosemary, optional

1 lemon, cut into quarters.

1. Place the chicken on a cutting board, skin side down, and using your hands, press down hard to make it as flat as possible. Mix together the rosemary leaves, salt, pepper, garlic and 1 tablespoon of the olive oil, and rub this all over the chicken. Tuck some of the mixture under the skin as well. If time permits, cover and marinate in the refrigerator for up to a day (even 20 minutes of marinating boosts the flavor).

2. When you are ready to cook, preheat the oven to 500 degrees. Preheat an ovenproof 12-inch skillet (preferably nonstick) over medium-high heat for about 3 minutes. Press rosemary sprigs, if using, into the skin side of the chicken. Put remaining olive oil in the pan and wait about 30 seconds for it to heat up.

3. Place the chicken in the skillet, skin side down, along with any remaining pieces of rosemary and garlic; weight it with another skillet or with one or two bricks or rocks, wrapped in aluminum foil. The idea is to flatten the chicken by applying weight evenly over its surface.

4. Cook over medium-high to high heat for 5 minutes, then transfer to the oven. Roast for 15 minutes more. Remove from the oven and remove the weights; turn the chicken over (it will now be skin side up) and roast 10 minutes more, or until done (large chickens may take an additional 5 minutes or so). Serve hot or at room temperature, with lemon wedges.

Yield: 4 servings.

Approximate nutritional analysis per serving: 410 calories, 25 grams fat, 135 milligrams cholesterol, 125 milligrams sodium (before salting), 45 grams protein, 1 gram carbohydrate.




November 19, 1997
The Minimalist; Give Thanks: In Three Hours, From Scratch
By Mark Bittman
IF a minimalist approach to satisfying food makes sense most ordinary days, a holiday like Thanksgiving demands it in the name of survival. This year, I vowed to minimize everything but my expectation for a great meal: time, number of ingredients and, most of all, work. Heretical as it may seem, I thought it might be fun for the cook to have enough energy to enjoy the meal for a change.

My idea was to buy all the food for a sumptuous meal in one trip and prepare the entire feast for 12 in the time it took to roast my 15-pound turkey -- roughly three hours. Two rehearsal meals demonstrated that, with one minor exception, the plan works, producing as traditional a Thanksgiving dinner as you can get without spending an entire day -- or more -- in the kitchen.

And there are no convenience foods -- even the stuffing and the cranberry sauce were made from scratch, each in less than 10 minutes. If I didn't slave over a hot stove for two days, as my grandmothers always did, I still prepared more food than anyone could possibly finish; and with all due respect to my ancestors, there were many aspects of this meal -- thanks to the high-quality ingredients -- that were fresher and better tasting than any Thanksgiving food I ate as a child.

The menu:

Turkey with bread stuffing and sherry gravy: To get good-tasting turkey, you have to start with a decent bird. This, I admit, I learned from my maternal grandmother. Like her, I use kosher turkey, available at nearly every supermarket in the New York metropolitan area. It's tastier and moister than other commercial turkey. A high-heat boost at the beginning gets the bird cooking fast, insures browning and keeps roasting time well under three hours.

The stuffing was inspired by a recipe from Pierre Franey, the late celebrated chef and food columnist, who often roasted a chicken stuffed with a ''sandwich'' of bread, liver and parsley. I've tinkered with it to suit my own taste; the result is a light, somewhat unconventional stuffing that resembles a smooth pate. Conventional or not, it was eaten even by the kids at my two mock Thanksgivings, in October. You can make it and stuff the bird in less time than it takes to heat the oven.

The gravy relies on pan drippings but is finished with nothing more than water; good, relatively dry sherry, and butter. It's made in 10 minutes or so, as the turkey rests before carving.

Sweet potato home fries with garlic and parsley: There's no room in the average home's oven for both a 15-pound turkey and a sweet-potato casserole, or even baked sweet potatoes, so preparing either of those would have stretched the cooking time by at least an hour. I got around that problem by starting the potatoes in boiling water, then transferring them to a roasting pan to finish cooking after the turkey comes out of the oven. Garlic and extra virgin olive oil add punch, and parsley makes the colors pop. Peeling, parboiling, and roasting add up to about 40 minutes.

Green beans with lemon: The green beans are precooked in boiling water (you can use the same water for both sweet potatoes and green beans), then finished at the last minute with both juice and zest of lemon. Total time, including picking over three pounds of beans: about 20 minutes.

No-cook cranberry-orange relish: A handful of mint and a couple of pinches of cayenne take the now-classic recipe a step further. Start to finish, 5 minutes, including washing the food processor.

A lemony pear, mesclun, and Gorgonzola salad: A far cry from the ordinary, but not much more work. Peel and slice some pears, wash and dry some mesclun, crumble some Gorgonzola. Dress with bottled dressing if you must, but I prefer extra virgin olive oil and sherry or balsamic vinegar, or a homemade vinaigrette. This will take 15 to 20 minutes to put together.

Pumpkin parfait: I wanted a no-bake dessert, but still had to compromise on my three-hour rule a little, because this dessert -- inspired by an idea from my colleague Suzanne Hamlin -- needs a few hours in the freezer. Still, the active working time is about 20 minutes. You start with canned pumpkin puree, stir in cream, milk and spices, and freeze. Several hours (or days) later -- when you're ready for dessert -- you cut up the frozen puree and put it into the food processor, which makes it smooth and creamy. Layer this ingenious creation with lightly whipped cream if you like -- or not.

I start my guests off with cheese and crackers, and pass mixed nuts and fresh fruit after the meal. You can do more work if you like . . . but I don't see the point.

Ready, Set, Count Down To Dinner

Timing is never exact, but it's still wise to have a Thanksgiving Day battle plan. If you're the nervous type, allow an extra half-hour. But in any case, do not begin roasting the turkey more than three-and-a-half-hours before you plan to serve it.

A day or two before Thanksgiving: Mix and freeze the pumpkin puree.

Zero minus 3 hours: Heat the oven. Rinse the turkey. Prepare the stuffing, stuff the bird and put it in oven.

Zero minus 2 1/2 hours: Peel, cut and boil the potatoes. Turn down the oven heat, and check the turkey. Make the cranberry relish.

Zero minus 2 hours: Drain and cool the potatoes; toss them in a roasting pan with the garlic and oil. Trim and boil string beans. Check the turkey.

Zero minus 1 1/2 hours: Drain and cool the string beans. Zest and juice the lemons. Check the turkey.

Zero minus 1 hour: Crumble the Gorgonzola; wash and dry the mesclun; make the vinaigrette. Pick over and chop the parsley for the potatoes. Check the turkey.

Zero minus 30 minutes: Assemble the salad, but don't dress it. Ready the ingredients for the sherry gravy. Check the turkey with an instant-read thermometer. Remove it when ready.

Zero minus 15 minutes: After removing the turkey, crank up the oven heat and put in the potatoes. Heat a skillet, and finish the green beans.

Zero Hour: Force someone else (an in-law is good) to carve the turkey while you make the sauce and finish the string beans. Put everything on the table except the salad, which you can dress and serve after or during the main part of the meal.

Afterward: While dinner plates are cleared, prepare the pumpkin mousse and serve.

PUMPKIN PARFAIT

Time: 20 minutes, plus chilling

1 pound canned pureed pumpkin

2 1/4 cups heavy cream

3/4 cup milk

3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar

1/2 teaspoon ginger

1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

1 teaspoon cinnamon

2 tablespoons rum.

1. Whisk together the pumpkin, 3/4 cup cream, milk, 3/4 cup sugar, spices and rum. Line an 8- or 9-inch square pan with plastic wrap, and pour the mixture into the pan. Wrap the whole pan in plastic, and freeze it for at least four hours; it can keep for as long as two days.

2. Remove the pan from the freezer about 20 minutes before serving.

3. Whip the remaining cream with the 2 tablespoons sugar. Refrigerate while completing the dessert.

4. Cut the frozen pumpkin mixture into small cubes and, a few at a time, puree them in a food processor until they are smooth. In small parfait or wine glasses, layer 2 tablespoons pumpkin mixture, then a rounded tablespoon whipped cream, alternating for six layers. Serve immediately.

Yield: 12 servings.

Approximate nutritional analysis per serving: 240 calories, 15 grams fat, 65 milligrams cholesterol, 25 milligrams sodium, 2 grams protein, 20 grams carbohydrate.

PEAR, GORGONZOLA AND MESCLUN SALAD

Total time: 15 minutes

4 large pears, about 2 pounds

1 tablespoon lemon juice

6 ounces Gorgonzola or other creamy blue cheese

12 cups mixed greens, washed, dried and torn into bite-size pieces

1 to 1 1/2 cups any vinaigrette.

1. Peel and core the pears; cut them into thin slices, and toss with the lemon juice. Cover, and refrigerate until needed.

2. Crumble the Gorgonzola into small bits; cover and refrigerate until needed.

3. To serve, toss the pear, cheese and greens together with as much dressing as desired. Serve immediately.

Yield: 12 servings.

Approximate nutritional analysis per serving: 215 calories, 15 grams fat, 11 milligrams cholesterol, 425 milligrams sodium, 4 grams protein, 15 grams carbohydrate.

GREEN BEANS WITH LEMON

Total time: 15 minutes

3 pounds green beans or snow peas, trimmed

3 lemons

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil or butter.

1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil, and salt it (for this, the same water may be used as that in which the potatoes have been blanched); add the beans, and cook until they are just bright green and tender, about 5 minutes.

2. Drain the beans, then plunge them into a large bowl filled with ice water, to stop the cooking. When they're cool, drain them again. Zest the lemons, and julienne or mince the zest. Juice the lemons.

3. To serve, place the oil in a large skillet, and turn the heat to medium high. Add the beans, and cook, tossing or stirring, until they are hot and glazed with the oil, 3 to 5 minutes. Toss the beans in a serving bowl with the lemon juice, top with the zest, and then serve.

Yield: 12 servings.

Approximate nutritional analysis per serving: 85 calories, 5 grams fat, 0 milligrams cholesterol, 4 milligrams sodium, 2 grams protein, 11 grams carbohydrate.

NO-COOK CRANBERRY-ORANGE RELISH

Total time: 10 minutes

2 large navel oranges, washed and dried

1 1/2 pounds cranberries

1 cup sugar, or to taste

1/4 teaspoon cayenne, or to taste

1/4 cup minced mint leaves, plus a few whole leaves for garnish.

1. Cut the ends off the oranges, and slice them into eighths; remove the central stringy white membrane, but leave the peel on.

2. Place the oranges, cranberries and sugar in a food processor, and process until they are chopped but not pureed. Do not overprocess them.

3. Transfer the mixture to a bowl, stir in the cayenne and the minced mint leaves, and adjust the seasonings. Cover and refrigerate; garnish with the whole mint leaves before serving.

Yield: 12 servings.

Approximate nutritional analysis per serving: 110 calories, 0 grams fat, 0 milligrams cholesterol, 2 milligrams sodium, 1 gram protein, 30 grams carbohydrate.

SWEET POTATO HOME FRIES

Total time: 30 minutes

4 pounds sweet potatoes (about 3 or 4 large potatoes), peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons minced garlic

1 cup chopped parsley leaves.

1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil, and salt it; add the potatoes, and cook until barely tender, about 5 minutes. Do not overcook.

2. Drain the potatoes (or use the same water to blanch the green beans, below), then plunge them into a large bowl filled with ice water. When cool, drain again. In a roasting pan large enough to hold the potatoes in one layer, toss them with the olive oil and the garlic.

3. Heat the oven to 500 degrees. Roast the potatoes, tossing them occasionally, until tender and lightly browned, 15 to 20 minutes. Toss with parsley, salt and pepper, and serve.

Yield: 12 servings.

Approximate nutritional analysis per serving: 180 calories, 6 grams fat, 0 milligrams cholesterol, 20 milligrams sodium (before salting), 2 grams protein, 30 grams carbohydrate.

SHERRY REDUCTION GRAVY

Total time: 15 minutes

1 1/2 cups amontillado sherry

3 tablespoons butter

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.

1. Remove the giblets, and pour off all but a tablespoon of the fat from the turkey's roasting pan; leave as many of the solids and as much of the dark liquid behind as possible. Place the roasting pan over two burners, and turn the heat to high.

2. Add the sherry, and cook, stirring and scraping all the brown bits off the bottom of the pan, until the liquid has reduced by half, 5 minutes or so.

3. Add 3 cups water (or stock if you have it), and bring to a boil, stirring continuously. Lower heat to medium and simmer for about 5 minutes. Strain into a saucepan, if a smooth gravy is desired.

4. Stir in the butter and, when it melts, the salt and pepper. Keep warm until ready to serve.

Yield: 4 cups (12 servings).

Approximate nutritional analysis per serving: 75 calories, 4 grams fat, 9 milligrams cholesterol, 30 milligrams sodium (before salting), 0 grams protein, 2 grams carbohydrate.

ROAST TURKEY WITH BREAD STUFFING

Total time: 2 3/4 hours, plus resting

For the stuffing:

6 tablespoons unsalted butter

1/4 pound turkey liver or chicken liver (about 3)

1 cup parsley leaves

1/2 cup chopped shallots

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

8 slices good day-old white bread, crusts trimmed

For the turkey:

1 15-pound turkey

1 recipe bread stuffing, below

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.

1. Heat the oven to 500 degrees.

2. Make the stuffing: chop together (by hand or in a small food processor) the butter, liver and parsley; stir in the shallots and season to taste with salt and pepper. Spread half the mixture on 4 of the bread slices; top each with another slice of bread, then spread the remaining mixture on the outsides of the sandwiches. Cut each sandwich into 6 pieces.

3. Rinse the turkey and remove the giblets. Sprinkle the bird with salt and pepper to taste. Loosely pack the turkey cavity with the stuffing, and then tie the legs together to enclose the vent.

4. Place the turkey on a rack in a large roasting pan. Add 1/2 cup water to the bottom of the pan, along with the turkey neck, gizzard and any other trimmings. Place in the oven, legs first.

5. Roast 20 to 30 minutes, or until the top begins to brown, then turn the heat down to 350 degrees. If the bottom dries out, add water to coat the bottom of the pan. Continue to roast, checking every 30 minutes or so; if the top browns too quickly, lay a piece of aluminum foil on it. The turkey is done when an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the thigh reads 165 degrees. If, when the turkey is nearly done, the top is not browned enough, turn the heat back up to 425 degrees for the last 20 to 30 minutes of cooking.

6. Remove the turkey from the oven. Take it off the rack, and make sherry reduction gravy, below, while the bird rests for about 20 minutes before carving.

Yield: 12 servings.

Approximate nutritional analysis per serving: 585 calories, 30 grams fat, 245 milligrams cholesterol, 255 milligrams sodium (before salting), 65 grams protein, 9 grams carbohydrate.

Photo: ROAST TURKEY WITH STUFFING -- The ingredients: Turkey, Bread, Turkey liver, Parsley, Butter, Shallots. GRAVY -- Pan drippings, Sherry, Butter. LEMONY PEAR SALAD -- Pears, Lemon juice, Gorgonzola, Mixed greens, Dressing. PUMPKIN PARFAIT -- Pureed pumpkin, Cream, Rum, Milk, Sugar, Spices. CRANBERRY RELISH -- Cranberries, Oranges, Cayenne, Sugar, Mint leaves. GREEN BEANS -- Green beans, Lemon zest and juice, Olive oil. SWEET POTATO HOME FRIES -- Sweet potatoes, Garlic, Parsley, Olive oil. (Photographs by KIYOSHI TOGASHI for The New York Times)




March 10, 1999
THE MINIMALIST
THE MINIMALIST; Pasta From the Pantry
By Mark Bittman
YOU can never have too many pasta recipes, and finding a good new one is an event. This is especially true of fast pasta recipes, the kind in which the sauce is so easy that you have to start boiling the water before getting out the garlic.

Yet there is a subset of pasta recipes that go beyond fast, prepared with just a few ingredients that are almost always in the house. These are the pasta dishes of the desperate cook, the one who has been too busy to shop or too busy to think, or who must put dinner on the table in 20 minutes.

I love those kinds of recipes, and that's why I made a cooking date with Arthur Schwartz, the host of ''Food Talk,'' a daily radio program on WOR-AM in New York. His latest book, ''Naples at Table: Cooking in Campania'' (HarperCollins, 1998), focuses on a part of Italy where the people are generally poor but where simple but great pasta dishes appear on the table every day, a feat seemingly accomplished with smoke and mirrors. He is also the author of ''What to Cook When You Think There's Nothing in the House to Eat'' -- currently out of print but due to reappear this fall -- which makes him a one-man clearinghouse for fast, easy pasta recipes.

In about an hour, he made three pasta dishes while I did nothing but type, eat and peel garlic. His choices were spaghetti with fried eggs, a quicker version of carbonara; linguine with canned tomato ''fillets,'' and linguine with walnuts and anchovies.

All of these recipes have one thing in common: garlic cooked lightly in good olive oil. As Mr. Schwartz noted, ''Neapolitans use garlic delicately; they want the flavor in the oil, but frequently cook it lightly and remove it.'' The garlic is not browned but ''blonded'' (''imbiondito'' in Italian), lightly cooked to release its gentle nature. As most pasta aficionados know, oil flavored with garlic like this is the simplest sauce there is, and far from the worst.

These recipes, however, take things one or two easy steps further. In the first dish, sometimes known as ''poor man's spaghetti,'' you fry a couple of eggs in the olive oil after removing the garlic; tossed with the pasta, the eggs and oil create a creamy, delicious sauce.

The mahogany-colored walnut and anchovy sauce is thinned with cooking water and very complex considering how few elements go into it. In the tomato sauce, the main ingredients are combined in a cold pan, brought to a boil and cooked about five minutes. Even when made with pantry tomatoes, it has an astonishingly fresh flavor.

SPAGHETTI WITH FRIED EGGS

Time: 20 minutes

Salt

1/2 pound thin spaghetti

6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil or lard

2 large cloves garlic, lightly smashed and peeled

4 eggs

Freshly ground black pepper

Freshly grated Parmesan or pecorino cheese, optional.

1. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil. Start the sauce in the next step, and start cooking the pasta when the water boils.

2. Combine garlic and 4 tablespoons of the oil in a small skillet over medium-low heat. Cook the garlic, pressing it into the oil occasionally to release its flavor; it should barely color on both sides. Remove the garlic, and add the remaining oil.

3. Fry the eggs gently in the oil, until the whites are just about set and the yolks still quite runny. Drain the pasta, and toss with the eggs and oil, breaking up the whites as you do. (The eggs will finish cooking in the heat of the pasta.) Season to taste, and serve immediately, with cheese if you like.

Yield: 2 or 3 servings.

LINGUINE WITH WALNUTS AND ANCHOVIES

Time: 20 minutes

Salt

1/2 pound linguine

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

3 large cloves garlic, lightly smashed and peeled

1/2 cup shelled walnuts, coarsely chopped (pieces of about 1/4 inch or a little less)

Red pepper flakes to taste

4 whole salted anchovies, rinsed and filleted, or 8 oil-packed anchovy fillets, rinsed.

1. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil. Start the sauce in the next step, and start cooking the linguine when the water boils.

2. Combine the garlic and oil in a deep 10-inch skillet over medium-low heat. Cook the garlic, pressing it into the oil occasionally to release its flavor. When it is just beginning to color on one side, add the nuts and the pepper flakes. Remove the garlic when it colors on the other side; cook the sauce another minute or so.

3. Add the anchovies, and increase the heat to medium, mashing them into the oil as they cook. As soon as they dissolve, almost immediately, add 1/2 cup of the pasta's cooking water to the pan. Remove the sauce from the heat until the pasta is cooked.

4. When the pasta is still a little undercooked -- about 2 minutes less time than usual -- drain it, then turn it into the pan with the sauce. Cook the linguine in the sauce, stirring and tossing constantly, until all the liquid has been absorbed and the linguine are tender. Serve immediately.

Yield: 2 or 3 servings.

LINGUINE WITH TOMATO 'FILLETS'

Time: 20 minutes

1 28-ounce can plum tomatoes, or about 2 pounds peeled fresh tomatoes

Salt to taste

1 pound linguine or spaghetti

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon minced garlic

Red pepper flakes to taste

3 tablespoons minced basil or parsley.

1. Cut tomatoes into strips, discarding seeds and juice; place in a strainer to drain while you bring a pot of salted water to the boil for the pasta. Start the sauce in the next step, and start cooking pasta when water boils.

2. Combine tomatoes, oil, garlic, salt and pepper in a 10-inch skillet, and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Cook briskly for about 5 minutes (8 minutes for fresh tomatoes), stirring occasionally. The tomatoes should remain in pieces, and there should be no liquid remaining in the pan other than the oil.

3. Toss the pasta with the sauce and the basil or parsley, and serve immediately.

Yield: 4 to 6 servings.





March 10, 1999
THE MINIMALIST
THE MINIMALIST; Pasta From the Pantry
By Mark Bittman
YOU can never have too many pasta recipes, and finding a good new one is an event. This is especially true of fast pasta recipes, the kind in which the sauce is so easy that you have to start boiling the water before getting out the garlic.

Yet there is a subset of pasta recipes that go beyond fast, prepared with just a few ingredients that are almost always in the house. These are the pasta dishes of the desperate cook, the one who has been too busy to shop or too busy to think, or who must put dinner on the table in 20 minutes.

I love those kinds of recipes, and that's why I made a cooking date with Arthur Schwartz, the host of ''Food Talk,'' a daily radio program on WOR-AM in New York. His latest book, ''Naples at Table: Cooking in Campania'' (HarperCollins, 1998), focuses on a part of Italy where the people are generally poor but where simple but great pasta dishes appear on the table every day, a feat seemingly accomplished with smoke and mirrors. He is also the author of ''What to Cook When You Think There's Nothing in the House to Eat'' -- currently out of print but due to reappear this fall -- which makes him a one-man clearinghouse for fast, easy pasta recipes.

In about an hour, he made three pasta dishes while I did nothing but type, eat and peel garlic. His choices were spaghetti with fried eggs, a quicker version of carbonara; linguine with canned tomato ''fillets,'' and linguine with walnuts and anchovies.

All of these recipes have one thing in common: garlic cooked lightly in good olive oil. As Mr. Schwartz noted, ''Neapolitans use garlic delicately; they want the flavor in the oil, but frequently cook it lightly and remove it.'' The garlic is not browned but ''blonded'' (''imbiondito'' in Italian), lightly cooked to release its gentle nature. As most pasta aficionados know, oil flavored with garlic like this is the simplest sauce there is, and far from the worst.

These recipes, however, take things one or two easy steps further. In the first dish, sometimes known as ''poor man's spaghetti,'' you fry a couple of eggs in the olive oil after removing the garlic; tossed with the pasta, the eggs and oil create a creamy, delicious sauce.

The mahogany-colored walnut and anchovy sauce is thinned with cooking water and very complex considering how few elements go into it. In the tomato sauce, the main ingredients are combined in a cold pan, brought to a boil and cooked about five minutes. Even when made with pantry tomatoes, it has an astonishingly fresh flavor.

SPAGHETTI WITH FRIED EGGS

Time: 20 minutes

Salt

1/2 pound thin spaghetti

6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil or lard

2 large cloves garlic, lightly smashed and peeled

4 eggs

Freshly ground black pepper

Freshly grated Parmesan or pecorino cheese, optional.

1. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil. Start the sauce in the next step, and start cooking the pasta when the water boils.

2. Combine garlic and 4 tablespoons of the oil in a small skillet over medium-low heat. Cook the garlic, pressing it into the oil occasionally to release its flavor; it should barely color on both sides. Remove the garlic, and add the remaining oil.

3. Fry the eggs gently in the oil, until the whites are just about set and the yolks still quite runny. Drain the pasta, and toss with the eggs and oil, breaking up the whites as you do. (The eggs will finish cooking in the heat of the pasta.) Season to taste, and serve immediately, with cheese if you like.

Yield: 2 or 3 servings.

LINGUINE WITH WALNUTS AND ANCHOVIES

Time: 20 minutes

Salt

1/2 pound linguine

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

3 large cloves garlic, lightly smashed and peeled

1/2 cup shelled walnuts, coarsely chopped (pieces of about 1/4 inch or a little less)

Red pepper flakes to taste

4 whole salted anchovies, rinsed and filleted, or 8 oil-packed anchovy fillets, rinsed.

1. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil. Start the sauce in the next step, and start cooking the linguine when the water boils.

2. Combine the garlic and oil in a deep 10-inch skillet over medium-low heat. Cook the garlic, pressing it into the oil occasionally to release its flavor. When it is just beginning to color on one side, add the nuts and the pepper flakes. Remove the garlic when it colors on the other side; cook the sauce another minute or so.

3. Add the anchovies, and increase the heat to medium, mashing them into the oil as they cook. As soon as they dissolve, almost immediately, add 1/2 cup of the pasta's cooking water to the pan. Remove the sauce from the heat until the pasta is cooked.

4. When the pasta is still a little undercooked -- about 2 minutes less time than usual -- drain it, then turn it into the pan with the sauce. Cook the linguine in the sauce, stirring and tossing constantly, until all the liquid has been absorbed and the linguine are tender. Serve immediately.

Yield: 2 or 3 servings.

LINGUINE WITH TOMATO 'FILLETS'

Time: 20 minutes

1 28-ounce can plum tomatoes, or about 2 pounds peeled fresh tomatoes

Salt to taste

1 pound linguine or spaghetti

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon minced garlic

Red pepper flakes to taste

3 tablespoons minced basil or parsley.

1. Cut tomatoes into strips, discarding seeds and juice; place in a strainer to drain while you bring a pot of salted water to the boil for the pasta. Start the sauce in the next step, and start cooking pasta when water boils.

2. Combine tomatoes, oil, garlic, salt and pepper in a 10-inch skillet, and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Cook briskly for about 5 minutes (8 minutes for fresh tomatoes), stirring occasionally. The tomatoes should remain in pieces, and there should be no liquid remaining in the pan other than the oil.

3. Toss the pasta with the sauce and the basil or parsley, and serve immediately.

Yield: 4 to 6 servings.




March 10, 1999
THE MINIMALIST
THE MINIMALIST; Pasta From the Pantry
By Mark Bittman
YOU can never have too many pasta recipes, and finding a good new one is an event. This is especially true of fast pasta recipes, the kind in which the sauce is so easy that you have to start boiling the water before getting out the garlic.

Yet there is a subset of pasta recipes that go beyond fast, prepared with just a few ingredients that are almost always in the house. These are the pasta dishes of the desperate cook, the one who has been too busy to shop or too busy to think, or who must put dinner on the table in 20 minutes.

I love those kinds of recipes, and that's why I made a cooking date with Arthur Schwartz, the host of ''Food Talk,'' a daily radio program on WOR-AM in New York. His latest book, ''Naples at Table: Cooking in Campania'' (HarperCollins, 1998), focuses on a part of Italy where the people are generally poor but where simple but great pasta dishes appear on the table every day, a feat seemingly accomplished with smoke and mirrors. He is also the author of ''What to Cook When You Think There's Nothing in the House to Eat'' -- currently out of print but due to reappear this fall -- which makes him a one-man clearinghouse for fast, easy pasta recipes.

In about an hour, he made three pasta dishes while I did nothing but type, eat and peel garlic. His choices were spaghetti with fried eggs, a quicker version of carbonara; linguine with canned tomato ''fillets,'' and linguine with walnuts and anchovies.

All of these recipes have one thing in common: garlic cooked lightly in good olive oil. As Mr. Schwartz noted, ''Neapolitans use garlic delicately; they want the flavor in the oil, but frequently cook it lightly and remove it.'' The garlic is not browned but ''blonded'' (''imbiondito'' in Italian), lightly cooked to release its gentle nature. As most pasta aficionados know, oil flavored with garlic like this is the simplest sauce there is, and far from the worst.

These recipes, however, take things one or two easy steps further. In the first dish, sometimes known as ''poor man's spaghetti,'' you fry a couple of eggs in the olive oil after removing the garlic; tossed with the pasta, the eggs and oil create a creamy, delicious sauce.

The mahogany-colored walnut and anchovy sauce is thinned with cooking water and very complex considering how few elements go into it. In the tomato sauce, the main ingredients are combined in a cold pan, brought to a boil and cooked about five minutes. Even when made with pantry tomatoes, it has an astonishingly fresh flavor.

SPAGHETTI WITH FRIED EGGS

Time: 20 minutes

Salt

1/2 pound thin spaghetti

6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil or lard

2 large cloves garlic, lightly smashed and peeled

4 eggs

Freshly ground black pepper

Freshly grated Parmesan or pecorino cheese, optional.

1. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil. Start the sauce in the next step, and start cooking the pasta when the water boils.

2. Combine garlic and 4 tablespoons of the oil in a small skillet over medium-low heat. Cook the garlic, pressing it into the oil occasionally to release its flavor; it should barely color on both sides. Remove the garlic, and add the remaining oil.

3. Fry the eggs gently in the oil, until the whites are just about set and the yolks still quite runny. Drain the pasta, and toss with the eggs and oil, breaking up the whites as you do. (The eggs will finish cooking in the heat of the pasta.) Season to taste, and serve immediately, with cheese if you like.

Yield: 2 or 3 servings.

LINGUINE WITH WALNUTS AND ANCHOVIES

Time: 20 minutes

Salt

1/2 pound linguine

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

3 large cloves garlic, lightly smashed and peeled

1/2 cup shelled walnuts, coarsely chopped (pieces of about 1/4 inch or a little less)

Red pepper flakes to taste

4 whole salted anchovies, rinsed and filleted, or 8 oil-packed anchovy fillets, rinsed.

1. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil. Start the sauce in the next step, and start cooking the linguine when the water boils.

2. Combine the garlic and oil in a deep 10-inch skillet over medium-low heat. Cook the garlic, pressing it into the oil occasionally to release its flavor. When it is just beginning to color on one side, add the nuts and the pepper flakes. Remove the garlic when it colors on the other side; cook the sauce another minute or so.

3. Add the anchovies, and increase the heat to medium, mashing them into the oil as they cook. As soon as they dissolve, almost immediately, add 1/2 cup of the pasta's cooking water to the pan. Remove the sauce from the heat until the pasta is cooked.

4. When the pasta is still a little undercooked -- about 2 minutes less time than usual -- drain it, then turn it into the pan with the sauce. Cook the linguine in the sauce, stirring and tossing constantly, until all the liquid has been absorbed and the linguine are tender. Serve immediately.

Yield: 2 or 3 servings.

LINGUINE WITH TOMATO 'FILLETS'

Time: 20 minutes

1 28-ounce can plum tomatoes, or about 2 pounds peeled fresh tomatoes

Salt to taste

1 pound linguine or spaghetti

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon minced garlic

Red pepper flakes to taste

3 tablespoons minced basil or parsley.

1. Cut tomatoes into strips, discarding seeds and juice; place in a strainer to drain while you bring a pot of salted water to the boil for the pasta. Start the sauce in the next step, and start cooking pasta when water boils.

2. Combine tomatoes, oil, garlic, salt and pepper in a 10-inch skillet, and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Cook briskly for about 5 minutes (8 minutes for fresh tomatoes), stirring occasionally. The tomatoes should remain in pieces, and there should be no liquid remaining in the pan other than the oil.

3. Toss the pasta with the sauce and the basil or parsley, and serve immediately.

Yield: 4 to 6 servings.





November 8, 2000
THE MINIMALIST
THE MINIMALIST; Three-Way Pasta
By Mark Bittman
AS popular as spaghetti alla carbonara may be, most American cooks don't realize that its essential element is meat. The crispy bits of cured pork that elevate the eggy sauce are actually the building blocks for three of the great classic pastas made in and around Rome.

The most basic of them, pasta alla gricia, contains no more than the meat and grated sharp cheese. With eggs added to the sauce, it becomes the familiar spaghetti alla carbonara, named for the charcoal makers who created the dish. And if you add the sweetness of cooked onions and the acidity of tomatoes, you have pasta all'amatriciana, from the town of Amatricia.

For years, authors of cookbooks and articles about Italian cooking suggested that the ''genuine'' meat for these recipes was pancetta: pork belly that is salted and cured but not smoked. Pancetta is available in any decent Italian deli and many specialty stores, although bacon -- which is also pork belly, cured and smoked -- is an adequate substitute.

But in Italy the first choice for these dishes is guanciale, which is also salted and cured but not smoked. It is made with pig jowl, a fatty and exceptionally delicious cut.

Those lucky enough to be in Rome can find guanciale not only in salumerias but also in supermarkets. In New York, it's a little harder to find, but worth the effort. You can buy guanciale at a few specialty markets, including Salumeria Biellese (376 Eighth Avenue at 29th Street; 212-736-7376), a 75-year-old institution that also produces good pancetta and sausages.

Guanciale is typically sold in pieces weighing a pound or a little more. Because it is cured until nearly dry, it will keep for months, and you can hack off a bit anytime you want to make one of these dishes.

All these sauces are great, if different, with any of the three meats.

As for the cheese, which is the second dominant flavor in each sauce, pecorino Romano is essential to pasta alla gricia, Parmesan is the most common cheese in carbonara and the amatriciana-style sauce is at home with either.

But, again, you can choose whatever you like -- no one is looking.

PASTA ALLA GRICIA

Time: 30 minutes

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1/2 cup minced guanciale, pancetta or bacon (about 1/4 pound)

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 pound linguine or other long, thin pasta

1/2 cup grated pecorino Romano, or more to taste.

1. Bring a large pot of water to a rolling boil. In a small saucepan, combine olive oil and meat, and turn heat to medium. Cook, stirring occasionally, until nicely browned, about 10 minutes. Turn off heat.

2. Salt water, and cook pasta until tender but not mushy. Reserve about a cup of water before draining pasta.

3. Toss drained pasta with meat and its juices; stir in cheese. If mixture is dry, add a little of the pasta cooking water (or a little olive oil). Season with plenty of black pepper, and serve.

Yield: 3 servings as a main course or 6 as a first course.

Variations: Spaghetti alla carbonara: While pasta is cooking, beat 3 eggs in a large warmed bowl. Stir in about 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan and the meat and its juices. When pasta is done, drain and toss with egg mixture. If the dressed pasta is dry, add a little reserved cooking water. Add plenty of black pepper and more Parmesan to taste, and serve.

Pasta all'amatriciana: Remove pancetta with a slotted spoon and, in the juices left behind, saute a sliced medium onion over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until well softened, about 10 minutes. Turn off heat, and let mixture cool a bit to avoid spattering. Stir in 3 cups chopped canned tomatoes and turn heat back to medium. Cook sauce, stirring occasionally, while pasta cooks. Drain, and toss with tomato sauce, reserved meat, and at least 1/2 cup freshly grated pecorino Romano or Parmesan cheese.

Drawing (Mary Ann Smith)




November 22, 2000
THE MINIMALIST
THE MINIMALIST; No Time for Crust? Who Needs It, Anyway?
By Mark Bittman
Correction Appended
PUMPKIN pie may be a Thanksgiving classic, but the last thing most people want to do on a day already crammed with cooking is start mixing and rolling out a crust.

This leads to some less than ideal alternatives, like store-bought pies -- unless you live near a truly great bakery, almost always a mistake -- or ready-made crusts, which usually rely on margarine or shortening, among the worst fats to use in pie crusts.

The best alternative, and certainly the most efficient, is to do away with the crust altogether and make a pumpkin ''pie'' without the pie -- that is, a pumpkin custard. And to further streamline the process, it makes sense to use gelatin as a thickening agent instead of eggs. The most common form for this kind of dessert is the Italian panna cotta -- cooked cream -- and few desserts are easier and more reliable; truly, this is foolproof.

The real panna cotta contains no pumpkin, of course; it's a pudding of cream, sugar and gelatin.

Adding pumpkin changes the equation; its strong flavor makes all-cream pudding too heavy on the tongue, so I substitute some milk to lighten things up a bit. And the pumpkin's rich texture means that to get an airy result you need only half the gelatin you would ordinarily use.

None of this is a challenge. And to make matters even simpler, you can use canned pureed pumpkin without fear -- it will not make any real difference, I promise. You can also make the panna cotta with butternut squash or sweet potato, if you prefer those flavors: just steam chunks of either vegetable until they are very tender, and puree until very smooth.

But personally, I'm sticking with the canned pumpkin.

The quality is good and the convenience incredible: all you do is dissolve some gelatin in a little milk, combine the pumpkin with cream, more milk, and sugar, and then heat.

Pour the pudding into small ramekins, and after a couple of hours in the fridge, you're set. You can safely do all of that a day ahead and refrigerate the covered ramekins until dessert time.

If you still have your heart set on pie, pour the panna cotta into a crust, and chill; it will work fine.

PUMPKIN PANNA COTTA

Time: 20 minutes, plus time to chill

1 1/2 cups milk

1 envelope unflavored gelatin

1 cup heavy cream

1 cup pureed pumpkin, squash or sweet potato

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon.

1. Put 1/2 cup of the milk in a 6- or 8-cup saucepan, and sprinkle the gelatin over it. Let sit for 5 minutes. Meanwhile, blend together the remaining milk, cream, pumpkin, sugar and cinnamon. The mixture should be perfectly smooth, so it is best to use a blender.

2. Turn the heat under the saucepan to low, and cook the milk, stirring occasionally, until the gelatin dissolves. Pour in the cream mixture, and turn the heat to medium. Cook, stirring occasionally, until steam rises. Turn off the heat, and ladle or pour the mixture into 6 4-ounce ramekins or other containers.

3. Chill the panna cotta until firm, and serve, with creme fraiche or whipped cream if you like.

Yield: 8 servings.





July 24, 2002
THE MINIMALIST
THE MINIMALIST; Grounds for Marriage
By Mark Bittman
I THINK I've consumed more watermelon this year than I have in the rest of my years combined. It certainly seems so, anyway. By seeing watermelon's potential as an ingredient as against simply a fruit eaten unadulterated and out of hand, I've gained a new appreciation for it.

After grilling watermelon, juicing it, making it into granita, sorbet and soup, and rediscovering a simple Middle Eastern dish of watermelon and feta, I decided to play with the odd relationship between watermelon and tomato, two fruits that complement each another in an unusual way.

When you cut up and combine watermelon and tomato, their distinctions become a little blurry and each masquerades as the other. The tomato's acidity becomes tamed, as does the melon's sweetness; their juices mingle, and even their flesh seems to meld. The straight marriage is intriguing and filled with potential, but it needs more: it cries for acidity, salt, piercing sharpness and a variety of textures.

After a few false starts, I found the tapestry of ingredients that fit the bill. For acidity, I wound up using sherry vinegar; neither balsamic nor rice wine vinegars had the guts needed, though cider vinegar, like sherry vinegar, was sharp enough. By adding a bit of blue cheese, I not only retained some of what I liked about the feta-watermelon combination but found creaminess and some of the saltiness I needed. Cayenne and scallions brought to the salad the biting quality I was looking for.

And although I didn't believe that crunch was an essential component of this dish, I played around with a number of ways to achieve it. Into the bowl went, variously, pistachios walnuts, croutons and lardons.

Ultimately, I rejected them all as unnecessary and contrived. I did, however, find crunch, and from an unusual source; you won't find it in the list of ingredients, but it's there.

As you probably know, seedless watermelon isn't exactly seedless. After picking seeds out of the salad for the umpteenth time, I began to leave them in, and finally to eat them. And I discovered one more aspect of watermelon that had eluded me up until now: the seeds, in limited quantities at least, are not only tolerable but an asset.

WATERMELON AND TOMATO SALAD

Time: 15 minutes

2 1/2 cups seedless watermelon, in 1-inch cubes or balls (cut over a bowl to catch the juice and reserve it)

1 1/2 cups cherry or grape tomatoes, cut in half

1/2 cup finely diced or crumbled Stilton, Gorgonzola, Roquefort or Maytag blue cheese

1/2 cup minced scallions

Salt

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons sherry vinegar

Pinch cayenne

1/2 cup cilantro or parsley, roughly chopped.

1. Combine the watermelon, tomato, cheese, scallions and salt in a bowl.

2. Whisk or blend together about 2 tablespoons of the watermelon juice, oil, vinegar and cayenne. To serve, dress the salad with this mixture and garnish with cilantro. Do not refrigerate and serve within 30 minutes.

Yield: 4 servings.





November 20, 2002
THE MINIMALIST
THE MINIMALIST; Turning Your Slow-Lane Turkey Into a Roadrunner
By Mark Bittman
IT'S almost a given that both time and oven space are at a premium on Thanksgiving. Both of those problems are caused by the same animal: the turkey. With an average cooking time of three hours and a size that fills even a big oven, turkey can be trouble.

Yet it's hard to argue with tradition. Otherwise sophisticated cooks remain wedded to canned sweet potatoes with marshmallows, packaged stuffing and canned cranberry sauce. Trying to wean them from the turkey to something equally festive but more flavorful (capon, goose, pork roast and standing rib all come to mind) is akin to trying to sell a tofu dog at Yankee Stadium: there will be takers, but don't bet against the norm.

There is at least one way, however, to cut the cooking time of the average turkey by about 75 percent while still presenting an attractive bird. That is to split it down the middle before roasting. The technique, commonly used with chickens (and sometimes called spatchcocking), is simple. You turn the bird backside up and use a sharp, sturdy knife to cut along both sides of the backbone, where it meets the ribs. The bones there are thin enough for the process to be easy and straightforward, and it usually takes less than five minutes. Turn the bird over, press on the breastbone, and you've reduced an eight-inch-high monster to something under four inches (you can even roast the turkey on one oven rack and something else, simultaneously, on the other).

You've also exposed the legs, which need more cooking than the breasts, to more heat -- you'll notice how they stick out -- and allowed the wings to shield the breast. Roasted at 450 degrees (with the heat moderated if the bird browns too fast), a 10-pound bird will be done in about 45 minutes. Really. It will also be more evenly browned (all of the skin is exposed to the heat), more evenly cooked, and moister than birds cooked conventionally.

This method of roasting precludes stuffing the turkey. (Because I've long maintained that stuffing is best cooked outside of the bird, where it can become crisp, rather than inside, where it is mushy, this is hardly a disadvantage.) You can still make a great pan gravy:

First, pour off all but a few tablespoons of the fat from the turkey's roasting pan. Leave as many of the solids and as much of the dark juices behind as possible. Place the roasting pan over high heat (use two burners if necessary) and add about three cups of stock. Bring to a boil, stirring, then turn the heat to low. If you want a thick gravy, stir in a couple of tablespoons of cornstarch blended with an equal amount of cold water (if that doesn't thicken it to your liking, repeat). Simmer while you carve the bird, and stir in a little butter if you like.

Some people will balk at the inclusion of garlic in the recipe here, but the turkey must derive its flavor from something. And I might suggest a couple of possible variations:

You can roast a mixture of vegetables -- diced carrots, onions, parsnips, potatoes, turnips or a combination are all good -- beneath the bird. Or you can substitute a couple of tablespoons of finely minced ginger, a bunch or two of chopped scallions and a couple of tablespoons of soy sauce for the tarragon.

But perhaps this is too heretical. You'll already be presenting a bird with a surprising new look.

45-MINUTE ROAST TURKEY

1 8- to 12-pound turkey

10 garlic cloves, peeled and lightly crushed, more to taste

1 branch fresh tarragon or thyme separated into sprigs, or 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme or tarragon

1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil or butter

Salt and pepper to taste.

1. Heat oven to 450 degrees. Put turkey on a stable cutting board breast side down and cut out backbone. Turn turkey over, and press on it to flatten. Put it, breast side up, in a roasting pan. Wings should partly cover breasts, and legs should protrude a bit.

2. Tuck garlic and tarragon under the bird and in the nooks of the wings and legs. Drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle liberally with salt and pepper.

3. Roast for 20 minutes, undisturbed. Turkey should be browning. Remove from oven, baste with pan juices, and return to oven. Reduce heat to 400 degrees (if turkey browns too quickly, reduce temperature to 350 degrees).

4. Begin to check turkey's temperature about 15 minutes later (10 minutes if bird is on the small side). It is done when thigh meat registers 165 degrees on an instant-read meat thermometer. Check it in a couple of places.

5. Let turkey rest for a few minutes before carving, then serve with garlic cloves and pan juices.

Yield: At least 10 servings.





December 25, 2002
THE MINIMALIST
THE MINIMALIST; Duck Legs, A.S.A.P.
By Mark Bittman
CRISP-BRAISED may seem a contradiction in terms, since braising is geared toward developing tenderness, usually at the cost of crispness. But duck skin has such an astonishing capacity for holding its crispness that duck legs can be browned, then carefully braised. The result is crackling skin covering sublimely soft meat.

There is a trick, of course: after carefully browning the duck legs (this is the only part of the recipe that requires more than minimal attention), cook a mound of chopped aromatic vegetables. Place the duck, crisp side up, on this bed, then add just enough stock to come about halfway up its sides. Roasted at moderate to high heat, the duck skin remains crisp while the vegetables and duck meat become fork-tender.

If I were you and could get my hands on duck legs (my supermarket routinely sells them, but you might have to try a specialty store), I would make this dish as soon as I had the time -- it's that good. The vegetable flavor is intense, the textures are near-perfect and the technique is foolproof. It is a grand seasonal dish, the kind you would gladly eat at a neighborhood bistro, were you lucky enough to live near such a place.

''Aromatic'' vegetables typically are onions, carrots and celery. It is not at all necessary to augment this combination, and it is hard to better it, but I have a couple of suggestions if you are interested in enhancing the flavor. If you substitute leeks for the onions you will have a more complex (and more expensive) dish. If you add garlic -- five or six cloves, lightly crushed -- and thyme, say six or eight sprigs, the results will be decidedly French.

And, if you want to go in another direction, you might add a habanero chili, along with a few slices of ginger.

CRISP-BRAISED DUCK LEGS

WITH AROMATIC VEGETABLES

Time: About 2 hours

4 duck legs, trimmed of excess fat

Salt and pepper to taste

1 large onion

1/2 pound carrots

3 celery stalks

2 cups chicken stock, preferably homemade.

1. Put duck legs, skin side down, in a skillet large enough to accommodate all ingredients comfortably; turn heat to medium. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Brown duck legs carefully and evenly, sprinkling them with salt and pepper as they cook. Meanwhile, peel and dice vegetables.

2. When legs are nicely browned, turn them over and sear for just a minute or two. Remove to a plate; remove all but enough fat to moisten vegetables. Add vegetables to skillet along with some salt and pepper. Cook over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until they begin to brown, 10 to 15 minutes. Return duck legs to pan, skin side up, and add stock; it should come about halfway up duck legs but should not cover them. Turn heat to high, bring to a boil, and transfer to oven.

3. Cook for 30 minutes, then lower heat to 350 degrees. Continue to cook, undisturbed, until duck is tender and liquid reduced, at least another half hour. The duck is done when a thin-bladed knife pierces the meat with little resistance. When done, duck will hold nicely in a warm oven for another hour. Serve hot.

Yield: 4 servings.





September 3, 2003
THE MINIMALIST
THE MINIMALIST; A Little Skin, A Lot of Fire
By Mark Bittman
THIS recipe could unite those who would become ecstatic when they see a dish of chicken skin on a restaurant menu and those who would flee into the street.

I'm in the first group. My own fascination with chicken skin began with my grandmother's chopped liver, mixed with bits of crisp-fried skin -- the best part, as everyone knew.

My fascination was revived recently at the Grand Sichuan restaurant on Second Avenue near 56th Street, where I had a stir-fry of chicken skin and whole dried chilies. There's not much more to the dish than that, but it is a beauty. (They can also make it with chicken meat instead of skin.) This recipe, from my kitchen and not from the restaurant, combines skin and meat. You can eliminate the skin; just start with a couple of tablespoons of peanut or vegetable oil.

The keys to dishes that feature handfuls of dried chilies are one, don't eat the chilies. And two, don't let any of them break open while cooking; each broken one will intensify the heat exponentially. But they're sturdy devils, so this is not that difficult.

The browned chilies lend the dish a nearly fiery smokiness, rather than just plain fire. I'm fairly timid when it comes to hot food, but the heat of this dish does not overwhelm me.

Browning the skin renders its fat, which in turn is used to cook the other ingredients. It's best to stir-fry the ingredients in batches, to brown them nicely, then combine them and build the simple sauce.

Needless to say, this is for a select audience, but if you find the right group, ecstasy may result.

SICHUAN CHICKEN WITH CHILIES

Time: 40 minutes

4 chicken leg quarters (legs and thighs)

Salt

20 to 40 whole dried red chilies

1 red bell pepper, seeded and finely chopped

1 tablespoon chopped garlic

2 tablespoons dry sherry

1/2 cup chicken stock

2 tablespoons soy sauce.

1. Skin chicken, and cut skin into 1/2-inch pieces; set aside. Bone chicken, and cut meat into 1/2-inch pieces; set aside separately.

2. Turn heat under a wok or 10-inch skillet to medium-high and add chicken skin. Cook, stirring occasionally and adjusting heat so skin browns but does not burn, about 10 minutes. Sprinkle with salt, and remove to a bowl, using a slotted spoon.

3. Add chilies and cook, stirring occasionally, until they puff and darken, 3 or 4 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon to a separate bowl. Add bell pepper and a pinch of salt and cook, stirring occasionally, until it browns, about 5 minutes. Remove and combine with chilies. Add as much chicken meat as will fit in one layer, and cook until browned on one side; season with salt. Stir and cook until browned; remove and repeat with remaining chicken.

4. Add garlic, followed by chicken, peppers and skin. Stir to combine, then add sherry, stock and soy sauce. Cook until mixture is saucy, about 3 minutes, then serve with white rice. Chilies should not be eaten.




April 14, 2004
THE MINIMALIST
THE MINIMALIST; Miso Makes A Good Fish Better
By Mark Bittman
BLACK cod with miso was not invented by Nobu Matsuhisa, the chef at Nobu in TriBeCa, but he certainly popularized it. His time-consuming recipe, which calls for soaking the fish in a sweet miso marinade for a couple of days, is a variation on a traditional Japanese process that uses sake lees, the sweet solids that remain after making sake, to marinate fish.

Black cod, also known as sablefish, is a North Pacific fish that has long been smoked. When I was growing up, it was thought of as the rich person's equivalent of lox, and purchased an eighth of a pound at a time. It is perhaps the richest tasting finfish, not unlike swordfish in density but meltingly tender, almost buttery.

If you broil black cod with nothing but salt, you already have a winning dish. If you broil it with miso -- the intensely salty paste made from fermented soybeans -- along with some mirin and quite a bit of sugar, you create something stunningly delicious. And no long marination is necessary.

Black cod is in season now, but you might still need to order it in advance from a good fish counter; standard supermarkets are not likely to carry it. The recipe below will also work well with regular cod or swordfish.

Two things to note: any miso will do here, but I prefer the darker, more full-flavored varieties, which produce a more attractive result. And do not overcook the fish: the instant a thin-bladed knife passes through its thickest part with little resistance, it's done.

BLACK COD BROILED WITH MISO

Time: 20 minutes

1/2 cup sugar

1 cup miso, preferably dark

1/2 cup mirin, sake or white wine

1 1/2 to 2 pounds black cod fillets (skin may be on or off).

1. Heat broiler; set rack 3 to 4 inches from heat source. Combine first three ingredients in a small saucepan and, over low heat, bring almost to a boil, stirring occasionally just until blended; mixture will be fairly thin. Turn off heat.

2. Put fillets in an ovenproof baking dish or skillet, preferably nonstick, and spoon half the sauce on top. Broil until sauce bubbles and begins to brown, then spoon remaining amount over fish. Continue to broil, adjusting heat or rack position if sauce or fish is browning too quickly, until fish is just cooked through. Serve immediately.

Yield: 4 servings.





May 12, 2004
THE MINIMALIST
THE MINIMALIST; A Condiment Gets to Shine
By Mark Bittman
THIS is a perfectly contemporary dish: Manchurian in origin, inspired by an Indian chef who lives in New York and based on an ingredient that is in almost every refrigerator.

It's stir-fried chicken with ketchup, and before you turn your nose up, think of hoisin sauce, oyster sauce, mayonnaise, Worcestershire sauce, salsa and all the other condiments that somehow are often considered inferior in haute cuisine circles.

Then think how good ketchup can taste.

I learned about the genesis of this dish from Suvir Saran, an Indian chef in New York. In the version he cooked for me, Mr. Saran tossed cauliflower in a slurry of cornstarch and egg, then deep-fried it. The crust was exquisite, and the cauliflower perfectly cooked. But it was what happened next that really got my attention: He finished the cauliflower in a sauce, made in about three minutes, containing nothing more than ketchup, garlic and cayenne pepper.

The garlic and cayenne gave the ketchup a significant leg up, and the brief cooking time caramelized the sugars. In all, the ordinary ingredient we all grew up with was transformed into a glistening, almost exotic sauce, one that latched on to that cauliflower as if the molecules had fused.

''This recipe is one of many dishes created by Chinese immigrants who now live in India,'' Mr. Saran said. ''You see it in Calcutta's Chinatown, where it's sold on the street, to be eaten off toothpicks.''

I tried making the dish with cauliflower that I didn't deep-fry; it wasn't the same. But when I floured some chicken and seared it in oil until it was quite crisp, then turned that in the sauce, I knew I had hit it: Manchurian-style chicken. (And, yes, you can eat it with toothpicks if you like.)

If you take to this dish, you might start to play with it: cook some peanuts with the chicken, toss some slivered scallions or cilantro in at the end (the color is brilliant, as you can imagine), substitute soy sauce for the salt, or start with squid or shrimp. It's all pretty flexible, and just think, you already have the main ingredient.

STIR-FRIED CHICKEN WITH KETCHUP

Time: 20 minutes

1 1/2 pounds boneless chicken, preferably dark meat, in 1/2- to 1-inch chunks

1/2 cup flour, more as needed

4 tablespoons neutral oil, like corn or canola

Salt and pepper

2 tablespoons slivered garlic

1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper, or to taste

1 cup ketchup.

1. Toss chicken with flour so that it is lightly dusted. Put 2 tablespoons oil in a large skillet, preferably nonstick, and turn heat to high. When oil smokes, add chicken in one layer. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

2. When chicken browns on one side, toss it and cook until just about done: smaller pieces will take 5 minutes total, larger pieces about 10. Remove to a plate. Turn off heat and let pan cool for a moment.

3. Add remaining oil to pan and turn heat to medium high. Add garlic and cayenne pepper and cook, stirring, about 2 minutes. Add ketchup and stir; cook until ketchup bubbles, then darkens slightly. Return chicken to pan and stir to coat with sauce. Taste and adjust seasoning, then serve.

Yield: 4 servings.





August 17, 2005
Recipe: Corn Salad with Soy and Tomato
Time: 20 minutes

Pan-grilled corn with chile
4 or 5 scallions, trimmed and cut diagonally into 2-inch lengths
2 tablespoons corn oil
4 medium tomatoes, cored and quartered lengthwise into wedges
1 tablespoon sugar
2 teaspoons soy sauce, more to taste
2 teaspoons sesame oil, more to taste
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Chopped chives, parsley or cilantro for garnish, optional.

1. While corn is still in skillet, but with heat off, stir in scallions and let sit for a minute, stirring occasionally. Remove to a bowl.

2. Wipe skillet with a paper towel, add oil and turn heat to high. When oil is almost smoking, add tomatoes. Cook, undisturbed, until they are nicely browned and slightly softened, about 2 minutes. Turn, sprinkle with sugar and cook for another 2 minutes.

3. Combine tomatoes with corn in bowl and drizzle with any pan juices. Sprinkle with soy sauce and sesame oil. Cool to room temperature, then taste and adjust seasonings with soy sauce, sesame oil, salt or pepper as needed. Garnish if you like, and serve.

Yield: 4 servings.






September 7, 2005
THE MINIMALIST; Feasting On Summer's Last Herbs
By Mark Bittman
THE incredible abundance of herbs that appears at the end of summer finds its way to all of us, not just to gardeners. For once, herbs are plentiful, good and inexpensive at farmers' markets. And these days even supermarkets have bunches of locally grown specimens.

So, what to do with them? There is a limit to the amount of pesto one can eat. And using herbs as a garnish doesn't quite deal with the bounty.

The green salad here can't be beat: it's fresh, bright, intensely flavorful, straightforward and quick to make. But it is equally valuable as a cornerstone for a host of other creations.

The most obvious of these is tabbouleh, the Middle Eastern parsley or mint salad to which soaked or cooked bulgur wheat, tomatoes and a drenching of lemon juice are added.

For the following recipe, figure on adding half a cup or so of bulgur, tossed with the herbs and greens. The finest grind of bulgur, No. 1, can simply be soaked in hot water for a few minutes; coarser grinds (with higher numbers) must be cooked for a few minutes.

Other grains, like kasha or brown rice, are equally good in this salad.

Another nice addition is a few fresh shell beans -- also readily available right now -- cooked until tender enough to eat but still quite firm and meaty, and drained of their cooking liquid. Again, half a cup to a cup is the right amount; this makes the salad far more substantial.

But I don't get too carried away with throwing things into this salad, because the stars are really the parsley and the supporting herbs, and it isn't often that you can let them shine as brightly as they do here.

Parsley-Herb Salad
Time: 15 minutes

1 cup washed, dried and roughly chopped parsley
1/2 cup washed, dried and roughly chopped tender herbs like dill, mint, basil and/or chervil
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
1 teaspoon chopped fresh marjoram or oregano leaves
2 tablespoons minced chives or scallions
4 cups mixed salad greens
1/3. cup extra virgin olive oil, or to taste
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice, or to taste
Salt and black pepper to taste.

1. In a bowl, toss together all the herbs and greens. In a small bowl or blender, combine the oil, lemon juice, and salt and pepper; taste and adjust seasoning as necessary.
2. Toss dressing with greens. Taste and add more salt, pepper, lemon juice or olive oil as necessary.

Yield: 4 servings.

Variation: If desired, add 1/2 to 1 cup soaked or cooked bulgur, cooked kasha or brown rice, or fresh shell beans to salad.





October 19, 2005
The Minimalist
A Street Treat From Nice
By MARK BITTMAN
THERE are few better ways to greet guests than with socca, the chickpea "pizza" from Nice. It's dead easy, impressive, new to even many sophisticated eaters and conveys a sense of your own competence like nothing else.

Known as farinata across the border in Liguria, this is essentially a large pancake made from chickpea flour, water, olive oil and a lot of black pepper. Bakers in Genoa often add onion and rosemary.

But its main attractions are these: The batter is quicker to put together than pancake batter; it can rest for an hour or even half a day, or not; it is baked in a normal oven, finished in a broiler and done in about 20 minutes; it's served hot or warm, to be eaten with the fingers. And it's irresistible.

And while chickpea flour is sold in few supermarkets, it is readily found at Indian, Middle Eastern and natural foods markets.

If there is a drawback it will come when you serve socca to a well-traveled person who will tell you that to make it properly you need a wood-burning oven and a copper pan. Such a person may also say that the combination of Mediterranean chickpea flour, water and olive oil is unique, so that socca cannot possibly be duplicated anywhere else; that even the Ligurian version is inferior (or, if the guest is an Italophile, that the Provençal version is no good); and so on.

Forget it. I've eaten and made both socca and farinata in Nice and in Genoa, and I've made it at home a hundred times. It is foolproof and 90 percent as good made in your oven as when whisked from the wood-burning ovens of Nice to the street stands in the market. It's so simple and its flavors are so pure that unless you buy rancid chickpea flour you will get it right the first try.

Now the details. Sift the chickpea flour into your bowl, so it doesn't lump, and use a whisk to combine it with water. Do not skimp on black pepper or olive oil; the pepper should really hit you when you take a bite. Preheat your skillet or pan in the oven. When the socca is done, put the pan on the table, cut it into random shapes, hand out napkins and have at it. If more than six people are present, get started making another.






September 20, 2006
The Minimalist
A Lamb Classic From Mongolia
By MARK BITTMAN
IF I were to ask someone who knows about the world’s cuisines, “Where is the combination of chili, cumin, garlic and lamb a classic?” the most likely answers would be North Africa, the Middle East or elsewhere in western Asia. But this dish is straight from Mongolia, via the street vendors of Queens, and it’s little more than those four ingredients.

On the street, the lamb is marinated for who knows how long, threaded onto skewers, grilled quickly over very hot charcoal and sold for a buck — maybe two — a stick. If you wanted to do it that way at home, you could, with good wood charcoal and a grill rack pretty close to the heat. You want to sear the lamb, but keep it medium rare.

The combination takes perfectly well to stir-frying. Start with lamb shoulder; leg is not lean or tender enough for this treatment. You can use loin if you prefer, but the dish will cost at least 10 times as much and it won’t be any better. Marinate it dry (or nearly so; I use a little soy sauce, for complexity) for as long as you like — 10 minutes, an hour, a day. The flavor will get a little stronger, though not much.

More important than the length of time is the freshness of your cumin. You absolutely need cumin seeds, not ground cumin. It’s worth the two or three minutes it takes to toast the seeds before marinating the meat. You can grind them if you like, but I like the little bit of crunch the seeds add.

For stir-frying, get your pan really hot, then add some oil and the lamb and leave it alone for a minute; let it sear. Stir it and let it sear again.

I offer a couple of other options, but it’s that basic combination of flavors, no matter where it’s from, that’s doing the work here.






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November 8, 2006
The Minimalist
The Secret of Great Bread: Let Time Do the Work
By MARK BITTMAN
INNOVATIONS in bread baking are rare. In fact, the 6,000-year-old process hasn’t changed much since Pasteur made the commercial production of standardized yeast possible in 1859. The introduction of the gas stove, the electric mixer and the food processor made the process easier, faster and more reliable.

I’m not counting sliced bread as a positive step, but Jim Lahey’s method may be the greatest thing since.

This story began in late September when Mr. Lahey sent an e-mail message inviting me to attend a session of a class he was giving at Sullivan Street Bakery, which he owns, at 533 West 47th Street in Manhattan. His wording was irresistible: “I’ll be teaching a truly minimalist breadmaking technique that allows people to make excellent bread at home with very little effort. The method is surprisingly simple — I think a 4-year-old could master it — and the results are fantastic.”

I set up a time to visit Mr. Lahey, and we baked together, and the only bad news is that you cannot put your 4-year-old to work producing bread for you. The method is complicated enough that you would need a very ambitious 8-year-old. But the results are indeed fantastic.

Mr. Lahey’s method is striking on several levels. It requires no kneading. (Repeat: none.) It uses no special ingredients, equipment or techniques. It takes very little effort.

It accomplishes all of this by combining a number of unusual though not unheard of features. Most notable is that you’ll need about 24 hours to create a loaf; time does almost all the work. Mr. Lahey’s dough uses very little yeast, a quarter teaspoon (you almost never see a recipe with less than a teaspoon), and he compensates for this tiny amount by fermenting the dough very slowly. He mixes a very wet dough, about 42 percent water, which is at the extreme high end of the range that professional bakers use to create crisp crust and large, well-structured crumb, both of which are evident in this loaf.

The dough is so sticky that you couldn’t knead it if you wanted to. It is mixed in less than a minute, then sits in a covered bowl, undisturbed, for about 18 hours. It is then turned out onto a board for 15 minutes, quickly shaped (I mean in 30 seconds), and allowed to rise again, for a couple of hours. Then it’s baked. That’s it.

I asked Harold McGee, who is an amateur breadmaker and best known as the author of “On Food and Cooking” (Scribner, 2004), what he thought of this method. His response: “It makes sense. The long, slow rise does over hours what intensive kneading does in minutes: it brings the gluten molecules into side-by-side alignment to maximize their opportunity to bind to each other and produce a strong, elastic network. The wetness of the dough is an important piece of this because the gluten molecules are more mobile in a high proportion of water, and so can move into alignment easier and faster than if the dough were stiff.”

That’s as technical an explanation as I care to have, enough to validate what I already knew: Mr. Lahey’s method is creative and smart.

But until this point, it’s not revolutionary. Mr. McGee said he had been kneading less and less as the years have gone by, relying on time to do the work for him. Charles Van Over, author of the authoritative book on food-processor dough making, “The Best Bread Ever” (Broadway, 1997), long ago taught me to make a very wet dough (the food processor is great at this) and let it rise slowly. And, as Mr. Lahey himself notes, “The Egyptians mixed their batches of dough with a hoe.”

What makes Mr. Lahey’s process revolutionary is the resulting combination of great crumb, lightness, incredible flavor — long fermentation gives you that — and an enviable, crackling crust, the feature of bread that most frequently separates the amateurs from the pros. My bread has often had thick, hard crusts, not at all bad, but not the kind that shatter when you bite into them. Producing those has been a bane of the amateur for years, because it requires getting moisture onto the bread as the crust develops.

To get that kind of a crust, professionals use steam-injected ovens. At home I have tried brushing the dough with water (a hassle and ineffective); spraying it (almost as ineffective and requiring frequent attention); throwing ice cubes on the floor of the oven (not good for the oven, and not far from ineffective); and filling a pot with stones and preheating it, then pouring boiling water over the stones to create a wet sauna (quite effective but dangerous, physically challenging and space-consuming). I was discouraged from using La Cloche, a covered stoneware dish, by my long-standing disinclination to crowd my kitchen with inessential items that accomplish only one chore. I was discouraged from buying a $5,000 steam-injected oven by its price.

It turns out there’s no need for any of this. Mr. Lahey solves the problem by putting the dough in a preheated covered pot — a common one, a heavy one, but nothing fancy. For one loaf he used an old Le Creuset enameled cast iron pot; for another, a heavy ceramic pot. (I have used cast iron with great success.) By starting this very wet dough in a hot, covered pot, Mr. Lahey lets the crust develop in a moist, enclosed environment. The pot is in effect the oven, and that oven has plenty of steam in it. Once uncovered, a half-hour later, the crust has time to harden and brown, still in the pot, and the bread is done. (Fear not. The dough does not stick to the pot any more than it would to a preheated bread stone.)

The entire process is incredibly simple, and, in the three weeks I’ve been using it, absolutely reliable. Though professional bakers work with consistent flour, water, yeast and temperatures, and measure by weight, we amateurs have mostly inconsistent ingredients and measure by volume, which can make things unpredictable. Mr. Lahey thinks imprecision isn’t much of a handicap and, indeed, his method seems to iron out the wrinkles: “I encourage a somewhat careless approach,” he says, “and figure this may even be a disappointment to those who expect something more difficult. The proof is in the loaf.”

The loaf is incredible, a fine-bakery quality, European-style boule that is produced more easily than by any other technique I’ve used, and will blow your mind. (It may yet change the industry. Mr. Lahey is experimenting with using it on a large scale, but although it requires far less electricity than conventional baking, it takes a lot of space and time.) It is best made with bread flour, but all-purpose flour works fine. (I’ve played with whole-wheat and rye flours, too; the results are fantastic.)

You or your 8-year-old may hit this perfectly on the first try, or you may not. Judgment is involved; with practice you’ll get it right every time.

The baking itself is virtually foolproof, so the most important aspect is patience. Long, slow fermentation is critical. Mr. Lahey puts the time at 12 to 18 hours, but I have had much greater success at the longer time. If you are in a hurry, more yeast (three-eighths of a teaspoon) or a warmer room temperature may move things along, but really, once you’re waiting 12 hours why not wait 18? Similarly, Mr. Lahey’s second rising can take as little as an hour, but two hours, or even a little longer, works better.

Although even my “failed” loaves were as good as those from most bakeries, to make the loaf really sensational requires a bit of a commitment. But with just a little patience, you will be rewarded with the best no-work bread you have ever made. And that’s no small thing.






January 17, 2007
The Minimalist
With Eggs, the Scent of a Shellfish
By MARK BITTMAN
OF all the dishes I ate for the first time in 2006, this one stands out. It’s amazing how good it is, how simple it is, how easy and fast it is. It’s also amazing how puzzled you must be hearing me say these things about scrambled eggs with shrimp. Have faith.

It’s a Chinese restaurant dish, one that I encountered in many forms on a recent trip to Los Angeles, including the hard-to-handle but perhaps even more delicious scrambled eggs with Dungeness crab, in which the crab remained in its shell. That was something of a mess, as were scrambled eggs with lobster and scrambled eggs with head-on-shrimp. The version here, in which the shrimp are peeled, is in fact quite tidy.

What all of these preparations have in common is the wonderful way in which the flavors of the shellfish leach into the eggs. This does not become a bunch of shrimp sitting in a bunch of eggs; it becomes shrimp-flavored eggs. This transfer of flavor explains why it makes some sense to leave the shells on the shrimp, or crab, or lobster; but not enough sense to bother doing it that way.

Scrambling eggs the right way is not difficult, but it’s a technique that isn’t known by everyone. You want to start the eggs in a not-too-hot pan, then turn the heat up high. Stir them almost constantly and, when curds begin to form, stir them more. If the eggs begin to stick, or the curds become large, take the pan off the heat immediately and stir. When the cooking slows down again, put them back on the heat.

If you want this dish at its best, stop cooking when the eggs are creamy and even a little bit of liquid remains. (If you like your eggs dry, cook them as you usually do.)

Eat this immediately, really hot. I made a batch as an appetizer for a party, using 24 eggs and about two pounds of shrimp. It was gone in a minute, and my feeling is that it was the high point of the meal.






January 2, 2008
The Minimalist
Let the Oven Do All the Work
By MARK BITTMAN
IF you buy a big pork shoulder and take your time, as you should, the classic Puerto Rican pork roast called pernil can take you nearly all day. The last time I roasted a large one it was in the oven for seven hours.

Yet there are times I feel almost guilty about this dish because the process is beyond easy and incredibly impressive, it feeds as many people as a medium-size ham, and the flavor is unbelievable.

When I first learned how to make a classic pernil, about 30 years ago, the only seasonings I used were oregano, garlic and vinegar.

But I’ve taken some liberties by adding a little cumin and some chilies; the onion is my addition, too. After all, pork is less flavorful than it used to be.

I believe that a slightly wetter coating and some water in the bottom of the pan keeps the meat moist during the long, slow roasting period.

The idea is this: Make a purée of the onion, garlic — you can use much more than the four cloves I recommend here — oregano, cumin and mild chili powder, like ancho. You can add a little cayenne or chipotle powder, but not too much.

Rub the paste all over the pork shoulder, and then roast it in a slow oven at about 300 degrees until it’s super-tender and brown.

When it’s done, the pork should be just about falling off the bone and a thing of beauty, crisp and dark. If the outside needs a little more browning, just jack the heat up a bit for 10 or 15 minutes.

Let it rest a bit, serve and try not to feel too guilty.






April 2, 2008
South Indian Eggplant Curry
Adapted from Roopa Kalyanaraman

Time: 15 minutes


2 tablespoons canola oil

1 tablespoon chickpea flour

1/4 teaspoon turmeric powder

Dash of asafetida

3 tablespoons unsweetened shredded coconut

1 tablespoon grated ginger

1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste

2 teaspoons tamarind paste

1 large or 2 medium eggplant

Chopped fresh cilantro leaves for garnish.


1. In a bowl, mix oil, chickpea flour, turmeric and asafetida. Heat on high for 90 seconds, stopping to stir halfway through. In another bowl, heat coconut on high for 90 seconds, stirring halfway through. Add coconut, ginger, salt and tamarind to chickpea mixture.

2. Rinse and dry eggplant, trim off ends, and cut into 1-inch slices. Score one side of each slice in several places. Spread and press spice mixture into gashes, then put eggplant into a dish. Partly cover (waxed paper works) and heat on high for 6 minutes. Uncover and cook on high for 2 or 3 minutes, until very soft. Garnish with cilantro. Serve hot or warm.

Yield: 4 or more servings.






November 12, 2008
The Minimalist
A Great Turkey, Piece by Piece
By MARK BITTMAN

FOR all the talk about how boring turkey is, it can be quite rewarding when handled properly. But roasting a whole bird is among the least "proper" methods. If the white meat is overcooked (which is almost inevitable), it turns dry; if the dark meat is undercooked (or cooked without moisture), it’s tough.

But if the white meat is handled like a chicken breast and just barely cooked through, it remains moist and tender. And if the dark meat is cooked for a long time, with moisture, it becomes so tender it gains the consistency of pulled pork.

The way to achieve both of these states simultaneously is to braise, and the best starting place is not with a whole turkey but with turkey parts — specifically, thighs and breasts.

If you think your Thanksgiving guests are flexible enough to try something surprising, this is it. If you insist on having a whole roast bird on the table come Thanksgiving, try braising turkey some other time.

For about 10 people, start with four thighs (you can buy them separately in most supermarkets) and a whole breast (take the breast meat off the bone). Brown all the meat really well on the skin side, then cook the thighs along with aromatic vegetables, some pork and a bit of liquid. Expose the skin so it remains crisp. The breast meat is added when the thighs are tender and cooked just until done.

The result is a mound of vegetables and meat with nicely sliced, perfectly cooked breast meat. It may not be exactly traditional, but it makes sense.






November 26, 2008
The Minimalist
Fennel and Celery Make a Striking Pair
By MARK BITTMAN
THERE was a time when fennel was exotic, like so many ingredients we now take for granted. I remember my first taste of it, in the late ’50s, at a restaurant on Macdougal Street. To me, the flavor of the celery look-alike was so closely akin to the candy Good & Plenty that it quickly became a special treat.

Now, fennel is among my favorite cold-weather staples. Because it’s so sturdy, its quality is consistent, and I use it as the basis of salads that rely not on tender greens but on other vegetables and fruits.

Oddly enough I like the pairing of fennel and celery. Though their textures are similar, their flavors are so wildly different that the combination is striking. With little more than olive oil, loads of lemon juice, and pepper (and some Parmesan, why not?), they create just about as refreshing an uncooked dish as you can put on the table this time of year.

There are other vegetables I like to mix with fennel, especially radishes, along with tangerine or orange segments, and tart apples with walnuts and maybe some thinly sliced red onion. While I’m partial to the olive oil and lemon dressing here, there’s nothing to stop you from being more adventurous: fennel’s flavor can pretty much stand up to anything.

Because it’s a bulb, and an oddly shaped one at that, fennel may be daunting to handle if you’ve never done it before. Start by trimming the top off, saving a few of the feathery fronds for garnish if you like, and then cutting the bulb into quarters. The usually super-tough outermost layer is sometimes best discarded, but it’s a judgment you have to make with each specimen. Then simply slice as thinly as possible. It’s a perfect excuse to break out that mandoline, as what you’re after are paper-thin slices that, like lettuce, give you a bed to build on.






May 15, 2009
The Minimalist
Out of the Wok
By MARK BITTMAN
FOR many people tofu has become a staple in their diets, and rightly so. Though it is made from soy milk in roughly the same way cheese is made from mammal milk (a curdling agent is added, and it’s drained of excess water), tofu doesn’t take nearly as many forms as cheese. But neither is it solely the stuff of stir-fries.

For example, I can almost guarantee you will be impressed by this dessert, a pudding that takes about as much time to make as hot chocolate. But there are a few qualifiers. Without chocolate, the flavor is unimpressive; it tastes like sweetened tofu. Add chocolate and a few Mexican spices, however, and you have a real winner. And certainly no one I’ve fed it to had any inkling that it was dairy free.

The texture of the pudding, which must be made with silken tofu, is almost unbelievably good. The silken tofu packed in aseptic boxes yields a slightly better texture than that packed in tubs. I have no doubt that if you make your own tofu, or buy it from an artisan, you could improve the texture even further.

More important than which brand of tofu you buy is the brand of chocolate. Without mentioning names, let me just suggest that you use the highest quality chocolate — semisweet or bittersweet, please — you can lay your hands on. After all, it’s the flavor of the chocolate, not of the tofu, that will dominate.





July 15, 2009
The Minimalist
A Frittata Where Eggs Play the Minor Role
By MARK BITTMAN
MY decision to follow a less animal-product-centric diet a couple of years ago has led me to experiment with a lot of recipes. But this particular “invention” (I’m sure it’s traditional somewhere) has stuck with me, largely because it is different, intriguing and good. Time to share.

I call it, for want of a better term, the more-vegetable-less-egg frittata, one in which the proportions of eggs and vegetables are reversed, and the veggies take center stage.

Instead of six eggs and a cup or two of vegetables, I use two or three eggs with three or four cups of vegetables. Think of it as a big vegetable pancake bound with just enough creamy-cooked eggs to hold the thing together.

Which vegetable you use barely matters. Asparagus is gorgeous and classic, spinach works perfectly (chop it and cook it until it’s dry), zucchini, broccoli (like asparagus, parboil it first), peppers and onions ... dare I say there are no limits? I have even made this with foraged samphire (also known as sea beans) and loved it: a pile of salty crunch. You could achieve similar results with chopped snap or snow peas, green or long beans, even garlic scapes.

As in a conventional frittata, cook the eggs slowly, so they stay tender. If the top remains stubbornly runny (less of a problem here than in the more-egg version), run it under the broiler. Then serve it hot or at room temperature.