Global Cuisine

Being creative in cooking sometimes means breaking the rules or borrowing a sauce from a traditional dish and using it in a non-traditional way.

When a diner is served the popular Vietnamese soup called pho, a basket of fresh green vegetables and bean sprouts accompanies a giant soup bowl filled to the brim with meat and noodles. For seasoning, a dipping sauce is also provided. As a matter of personal taste, I prefer the lighter pho ga, made with chicken, to its deeper flavored, beefy cousins. After years of eating pho ga I realized that part of my craving for the soup was because I loved the dipping sauce called nuoc cham gung.

In the sauce, finely minced ginger and garlic mingle with flecks of dried Szechuan peppers in a vinegary-salty-sweet sauce, accentuated with lime-citrus notes.

With one of those wonderful epiphanies that happen to foodies who think about food a bit too much, I realized that nuoc cham gung would make a good marinade and glaze for my favorite appetizer—chicken wings.

"It's all Greek to me" were practically the words that came out of my mouth when I first saw this dish listed on a restaurant menu. I didn't know what I was getting in to, but ever since that initial sumptuous taste, I have been in love and obsessed with this classic Greek casserole. Moussaka at first may appear to be a wintry meal, but late summer with its abundance of dark purple eggplants or aubergines is truly the perfect opportunity for making this dish. For me the sight of an eggplant around this time of year automatically equals moussaka. And truth be told, I love it so much that I usually end up eating the entire casserole all by myself.

This love, however, doesn't come so easy. The recipe takes real time and preparation, but it's wholeheartedly worth it. Many components can be made ahead, in particular the meat filling. The day before I plan to make this meal, perhaps for a summer dinner party, I prepare the simple ground-meat filling. Late the next morning of the dinner, I'll fry the eggplant slices for the layers. Then about an hour before guests begin to arrive, I'll make the béchamel sauce, start the assembly, and bake. After the casserole has a chance to cool for easier slicing and serving, it's ready to be enjoyed with a chilled glass of Greek white wine.

I am a control freak.

I think most good chefs are.  Leaving things to chance is how you get in trouble in the kitchen- so I’m an avid organizer, chronic double checker and maniacal listmaker.

But food is funny about control.  I am not a machine that orders chemically processed and manipulated items into submission.  The best ingredients we all cook with are fluid, not static.  They come from the land, sky, soil and sea.  As much as we understand the science behind nature, it’s important to remember its unpredictability.

And that, your honor, is the case for the defense.

Perfect food presentation is my Achilles heel.  I fantasize about serving scrumptious morsels of food that no one wants to touch – let alone eat- because they are just so beautiful.  I spend a lot of time in the kitchen with my inner critic (I call her Martha, for pretty obvious reasons) telling me I’m not good enough.

If you are planning a Cinco de Mayo feast, you are going to need a satisfying side dish to accompany your meal. A Savory Mexican Cornbread is the perfect canvas for sopping up the sauce. And for those of you who can't have your food touching (you know who you are) it's okay to keep it on a separate plate.

This cornbread does not have a dense, hockey puck-like consistency. Instead it is cakey and very moist. Void of any overwhelming flavor, it makes the perfect sidekick for an already flavorful meal. It melds nicely.

I know lots of people stick with their Jiffy cornbread from a box but this has such a better consistency and does not take much effort to put together. If you are like me and enjoy your cornbread sweet, butter and honey are a stunning addition to each slice. You must try it.