Globe correspondent APRIL 02, 2013

By April, weary New Englanders are looking for anything to poke through the thawing ground. It is often a crocus, welcomed like an old friend.

To help lift our culinary spirits, we asked you to peek into your recipe collections for favorite dishes featuring spring greens. For The Recipe Box Project, in which readers share recipes with each other, we were looking for specialties made with asparagus, Swiss chard, watercress, spinach, mint, and other greens. From the pale green of asparagus soup, sent in by Hadley resident Pam Juengling, who calls the spears “Hadley grass,” to the dark green and golden custard in a crustless Swiss chard pie from Jane Woodes of Wellfleet, our kitchen was filled with fine fare.

Jane Ward of Amesbury sent in a risotto she makes with fresh peas from her Community Supported Agriculture share (we used frozen for now). She folds in a bright puree of peas and scallions, another vegetable that heralds the new season, into creamy arborio rice. Winchester resident Kinzie Moore Gensler writes that her favorite spring dish is jade rice made by adding a puree of basil, mint, cilantro, and spinach to ginger-scented long-grain rice.

Often the first shoots in the garden are herbs. “We can’t wait for the fresh mint,” writes Lee Appel of Rye, N.H., who makes a tangy yogurt and cucumber salad with refreshing spearmint. Crisp, peppery watercress is often tossed with lettuces to punch up a salad. Chie Ehara, an Arlington resident and Japanese expat, stirs a bunch into a velvety shrimp soup.

In New England, we’re forced to use the expression “spring greens” loosely. Some don’t come in until it’s almost summer. But these dishes are a painter’s bright palette. Which for now, is uplifting.

This article is another in our Boston Globe series, The Recipe Box, where readers send in their favorite recipes.

RECIPES

Asparagus soup and Jade rice. Delicious!

Asparagus Soup

Serves 6
Hadley is known for native asparagus (called Hadley grass), celebrated every spring by the local churches and civic groups that offer asparagus suppers, writes reader Pam Juengling. She says, “I developed this soup based on various recipes and versions I’ve tasted.” Although it takes a bit of extra time, before cutting the stalks, use a vegetable peeler to trim the woodier ends.

2 bunches fresh asparagus
1½ cups chicken stock
2 stalks celery, diced
5 scallions, cut into 1-inch lengths
½ teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
Salt and pepper, to taste
1 cup whole milk
1. Trim the asparagus ends and cut the stalks into 1-inch pieces.

2. In a large saucepan over medium heat, combine the chicken stock, celery, and scallions. Bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for 10 minutes.

3. Add the asparagus, Worcestershire sauce, nutmeg, salt, and pepper. Continue cooking for 5 minutes or until the asparagus are almost tender.

4. Add the milk and reduce the heat to medium-low. Continue cooking for a few minutes or until the milk is just heated through.

5. Using a slotted spoon remove ⅓ of the asparagus and set aside. In a blender, puree the remaining mixture in batches until smooth. Return to the pan. Reheat just until hot. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper, if you like.

6. Coarsely chop the remaining asparagus. Divide it among 6 bowls. Ladle the soup on top. Adapted from Pam Juengling

Jade rice

Serves 4

In this unusual dish, aromatic basmati or jasmine rice is combined with an emerald green puree made with basil, cilantro, spinach, and mint. Winchester resident Kinzie Moore Gensler sent us this recipe, which she adapted from “Fusion Food Cookbook,” by Hugh Carpenter and Teri Sandison. Gensler writes, “I have been making this for over 15 years. Paired with salmon, this makes a bright cheery dish. The sauce alone is delicious on grilled fish or chicken. I make several batches and freeze in ice cube trays for later use.”

RICE

1½ cups long-grain basmati orjasmine rice
2 tablespoons canola oil
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1 piece (1 inch) fresh ginger, grated (to make 1 tablespoon)
2¼ cups chicken stock
1. Place rice in a colander. Rinse it with cold water for about 1 minute until the rinse water is no longer cloudy. Drain thoroughly; set aside.

2. In a large saucepan over medium heat, heat the oil. Add the garlic and ginger and cook, stirring, for 30 seconds. Add the rice and cook, stirring, for 3 minutes more.

3. Add the chicken stock and bring to a boil. Lower the heat, set the cover on askew, and simmer for 20 minutes or until all of the liquid is absorbed. Remove from the heat. Set the lid firmly on the pan and let steam for 10 minutes.

Sauce

1 cup firmly packedspinach leaves
¼ cup fresh mint leaves
½ cup fresh cilantro leaves
12 fresh basil leaves
2 scallions, cut into 2-inch lengths
2 tablespoons sherry orwhite wine
2 tablespoons white vinegar
2 tablespoons dark sesame oil
1 tablespoon soy sauce
2 teaspoons hoisin sauce
2 teaspoons sugar
½ teaspoon Asian chili sauce (sambal oelek)
½ teaspoon salt
Extra fresh mint, cilantro, and basil leaves (for garnish)
1. In a blender, combine the spinach, mint, cilantro, basil, scallions, sherry or white wine, vinegar, sesame oil, soy and hoisin sauces, sugar, chili sauce, and salt. Puree until the mixture is smooth.

2. Fold the sauce into the rice with the whole mint, cilantro, and basil leaves. Adapted from Kinzie Moore Gensler and “Fusion Food Cookbook”

Risotto with fresh peas and scallion puree

Serves 4

“I just love fresh peas and I know it’s finally spring when I get peas in my CSA share,” writes Jane Ward of Amesbury. Ward got creative when she had too few peas to make either a soup or a side dish. “I also had a bunch of scallions in front of me,” she says, “and the vibrant green colors inspired me. I thought of the bright magenta of creamy beet risottos and figured I could do something similar with the peas and scallion tops.” After stirring her risotto, she adds the puree with freshly grated Parmesan. For a polka dot effect, fold in some of the tender green orbs right at the end.

PUREE

Salt, to taste
1½ cups fresh or frozen peas
1 bunch scallions, tops cut into 2-inch pieces
1. Fill a bowl with water and ice cubes; refrigerate.

2. Bring a saucepan of salted water to a boil. Add the peas. Cook the fresh peas for 4 minutes, the frozen for1 minute. Add the scallions to the water and cook for60 seconds more.

3. Drain the vegetables into a colander, rinse with cold water, and tip the vegetables into the ice water. Leaveuntil they are cold. Remove 4 ice cubes. Drain again.Remove about ½ cup of peas; set aside.

4. In a blender, puree the vegetables with 4 ice cubesuntil smooth. If the vegetables are slow to process, adda few drops of cold water. Transfer to a bowl; cover andrefrigerate.

RISOTTO

4 cups chicken or vegetable stock, plus up to2 cups more if necessary
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
1 small onion, finely chopped
Salt and pepper, to taste
1¼ cups short-grain white rice (such as Arborio)
⅓ cup white wine
½ cup grated Parmesan
1. In a saucepan over medium heat, heat the stock until it begins to simmer. Reduce the heat to low. Keep the saucepan on a back burner.

2. In another larger saucepan over medium heat, heat the oil. When it is hot, add the butter. Cook the onion, salt, and pepper, stirring often, for 8 minutes.

3. Add the rice and stir until well coated. Add the wine and stir constantly until the wine is almost completely absorbed by the rice.

4. Add a ladle of the hot stock and cook, stirring constantly until the liquid is almost completely absorbed. Add another ladleful of hot stock and stir constantly until the liquid is almost absorbed. Add more stock in this way, a ladleful at a time, until you have added 4 cups. This will take about 25 to 30 minutes. Check for doneness after 25 minutes. The rice should have a softer bite on the outside with a slightly firm core. The risotto should be thick, creamy, and slightly soupy, with a nice gloss. Add more stock, if necessary, a ladle at a time.

5. Fold in the pea-scallion puree and heat the rice through, cooking another minute. Remove the pan from the heat. Fold in the reserved peas and Parmesan. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper, if you like. Adapted from Jane Ward

Crustless Swiss chard pie

Makes one 8-inch square or round

Both rainbow chard, with its colorful stems, or the more traditional white-stemmed chard are great for this crustless pie sent in by Jeanne M. Woodes of Wellfleet. The soft, eggy quiche-like custard bakes with the dark green leaves, which are scented with fresh thyme and covered with Parmesan. “Cut into squares for appetizers or wedges for pie,” says Woodes. Chard can be sandy. Rinse the leaves well in a deep bowl of cold water.

Butter (for the dish)
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 bunches Swiss chard, stemmed, leaves coarsely chopped
1 teaspoon salt
⅛ teaspoon cayenne pepper
4 eggs
1 cup whole milk
¼ cup flour
Pinch of ground nutmeg
3 sprigs fresh thyme, leaves removed
½ cup grated Parmesan
1. Set the oven at 375 degrees. Butter a deep 8-inch round or square baking dish.

2. In a large skillet over medium heat, heat the oil. Add the onion and garlic. Cook, stirring often, for 8 minutes. Add the Swiss chard. With tongs, toss the greens and onions until well mixed. Add salt and cayenne pepper. Cover and cook for 5 minutes, or until the chard is wilted.

3. In a blender, combine the eggs, milk, flour, nutmeg, and a pinch of salt. Blend until smooth, scraping down the sides of the container.

4. With tongs, remove the chard from the skillet, leaving any liquid in the pan. Spread the greens evenly in the baking dish. Sprinkle with thyme. Pour the egg mixture over the greens. With a spatula, move the greens around to make sure the batter is completely incorporated into the mixture. Sprinkle cheese on top.

5. Bake for 40 minutes or until the pie is set in the center. Let it settle for 5 minutes. Cut into small pieces to serve as an appetizer, or wedges to serve as a brunch or side dish. Adapted from Jeanne M. Woodes

Cucumber salad with mint and yogurt

Serves 4

Cucumbers, yogurt, and herbs form the basis of many Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, and East Indian salads. Lee Appel, a member of the Northeast Seacoast Unit of the Herb Society of America and who lives in Rye, N.H., sent us this dish, which is her husband Leo’s favorite salad. She writes, “We can’t wait for the fresh mint in my herb garden in the spring.”

2 English cucumbers, trimmed
½ teaspoon kosher salt
¾ cup plain low-fat or whole-milk yogurt
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 teaspoons wine vinegar
Salt and pepper, to taste
½ bunch fresh mint, leaves removed from stems
1. Slice the cucumbers thinly. On a baking sheet lined with paper towels, lay the slices. Sprinkle with salt; refrigerate uncovered for 1 hour. Remove the cucumbers from the refrigerator. Pat dry and set aside.

2. In a bowl, whisk the yogurt, oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper.Chop half the mint and stir it into the yogurt mixture. Add the cucumbers and whole mint leaves. Stir gently.Cover and refrigerate for several hours. Adapted from Lee Appel

Watercress and shrimp soup

Serves 4

Velvety pink shrimp float among sprigs of peppery watercress in a light chicken stock. Chie Ehara, a Japanese expat who now resides in Arlington, sent us this Asian-style soup. “I try to show the beautiful green colors in the dishes I make so that we can feel spring from the food. In Japanese culture, we eat with our eyes and feel the season.”

1 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 tablespoon rice wine or white wine
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 piece (2 inches) fresh ginger, smashed and finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 scallions, finely chopped
3 cups chicken stock
1 tablespoon soy sauce, or moreto taste
1 bunch fresh watercress, stemmed, leafy ends cut in half
Salt and pepper, to taste
2 tablespoons cornstarch mixed with ¼ cup cold water
Grated rind of ½ lemon (forgarnish)
1. In a bowl combine the shrimp and rice wine or white wine; set aside for 15 minutes.

2. In a wok or deep saucepan over medium heat, heat the oil for 30 seconds. Add the ginger, garlic, scallions, and shrimp. Cook, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes or until the shrimp start to turn pink (they will not be cooked through). Remove the mixture from the pan.

3. Pour in the chicken stock and soy sauce. Bring to a boil. Add the watercress, salt, and pepper. Return the shrimp and seasonings to the pan.

4. Reduce the heat to medium-low. With a spoon, stir the cornstarch and water mixture. Pour it into the hot soup in a circular motion. Increase the heat to medium and cook, stirring constantly, until the soup thickens. Taste for seasoning; add more salt, pepper, or soy sauce, if you like. Ladle into 4 bowls; sprinkle with lemon rind.  Adapted from Chie Ehara

WELLESLEY — Those who know Susumu “Sus” Ito, 93, know that he is a Nisei (second-generation Japanese-American), a Congressional Gold Medal recipient from World War II’s legendary all-Japanese-American 442d Regimental Combat Team, an emeritus professor at Harvard Medical School, a furniture maker, photographer, dad, and grandfather.

(Sus is second from right)

But what many may not know is that Ito is also a master at Spam musubi, the Hawaiian snack made with the infamous canned ham and rice. Spam musubi is part of a cuisine adapted by Japanese immigrants who settled in Hawaii in the first half of the last century. One of their specialties was rice balls (musubi). GIs stationed in Hawaii had in their rations cans of Spam, the meat product made by Hormel Foods with pork shoulder, ham, and spices, says Ito.

Over time, Japanese cooks found Spam (the words combine “spiced” and “ham”), added it to their rice, and Spam musubi was born. The dish is made by pan frying slices of Spam and setting them between layers of rice, then seasoning and wrapping them in nori, a roasted seaweed.

Today, like other transmogrified dishes, Spam musubi has enthusiasts far from its birthplace; it’s popular in California and even spotted at izakaya, Tokyo pubs. Think of it as something like California rolls. The sushi rice with avocado and crab, an American twist on Japanese cuisine, made its way back across the Pacific.

Ito was raised in Stockton, Calif., and learned to cook from his mother, Hisayo, who made traditional maki zushi, rice rolls with vegetables. In 1941, while he served in the US Army, his mother and family were interned at Topaz in Utah and he would visit periodically.

Ten 10 years ago, after a trip to California, when he tried Spam musubi, he thought, “I can make this myself.”

He lives in the Wellesley home he shared with his late wife of 64 years, Minnie Tsuji Ito, cooking and cleaning for himself, even chopping logs for a wood-burning stove. On a bright day in his kitchen, the spry nonagenarian lines up the ingredients for musubi. He opens a can of Spam, slices and browns it in a skillet with teriyaki sauce, and lets it form a shiny glaze. “I ate a lot of Spam while I was in the Army,” says Ito, “and didn’t really like the taste then.”

Now the dish is his specialty. To make the layers, he uses a two-piece plexiglass press about 2-inches-by-2-inches-by-4-inches to shape it, scooping the rice and spreading it inside one piece of plexiglass. With chopsticks he picks up a piece of Spam and lays it on the rice,

adds a drizzle of wasabi sauce, a flourish of red ginger shreds, and a shower of Japanese savory sprinkles (called furikake; this is his secret seasoning), a combination of seaweed, sesame seeds, and dried salmon flakes.

Then he spreads on one more layer of rice, dips the smaller flat plexi rectangle, which is fitted with a grip, into water, and presses down on the layers.

He lifts the form and wraps the rice and spam in roasted seaweed. With the tip of a knife moistened with water, he slices his masterpiece into several pieces. Then he makes another and another. “No way mom would make this,” he says, amused.

The sweet, salty, very rich meat, rice, and seasonings blend together in an unlikely but delicious combination.

Ito’s Spam musubi is in demand. Whenever he attends a meeting or party, he brings along a tray. Every year Margie Yamamoto, a Lincoln resident and friend of Ito’s, hosts a Japanese New Year’s party for over 100, and Ito’s Spam musubi is a hit.

Yamamoto reports that her guests ask, “What’s this? It’s fabulous!”

Then she tells them it’s Spam.

RECIPES    

Spam Musubi

Makes 20 pieces or enough to serve 6

There are many ways to stack this snack. One is a grilled or fried Spam slice on a ball of rice, wrapped with roasted seaweed. Another is a sandwich-like layering of rice and Spam, also wrapped with seaweed. This version, from Susumu Ito, uses short-grain Japanese rice, sometimes labeled “sushi rice,” and a kind of teriyaki called Mr. Yoshida’s Original Gourmet Sweet and Savory cooking sauce. He has a plexiglass mold designed specifically for spam musubi (about $7 at Houserice.com), or use the Spam can as the form. Remove the Spam, with a can opener, carefully snip out and discard the bottom. Smooth any jagged edges with the tip of a knife. Wash in warm soapy water (mind your fingers), and dry with paper towels. To fill, place the can bottom side down.

RICE

1. In a mesh sieve set in a bowl in the sink, set the rice. With the water running, gently swish your hand in the rice; the water will turn milky. Lift the sieve and shake off the water. Repeat 3 times. Drain and set aside for 20 minutes.

2. In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine the rice and the water with the cover askew. Cook the rice over medium high heat for 10 minutes. Turn the heat to low and continue cooking for 10 minutes more. Remove the rice from the heat, cover, and set aside for 10 minutes.

3. Fluff the rice with a wooden spoon. (Use it warm.)

FILLING

1. Pull off the Spam lid and gently slip a knife around the edges and sides to loosen it from the can. Over a plate, shake the can so the block comes out in one piece. With a thin knife, slice the Spam lengthwise into 5 pieces, each ¼ inch. (You will use half the block. Place the remaining Spam in an airtight container and refrigerate to use in other dishes, like fried rice.)

2. In a skillet over medium heat, brown the Spam for 1 minute on each side. Add the teriyaki sauce and cook, turning occasionally, for 2 minutes or until the sauce almost evaporates. Transfer to a plate.

3. Have on hand a bowl of cold water and a ⅓-cup measure.

4. In another small bowl mix the wasabi paste and mayonnaise.

5. Fold the nori sheets in half horizontally and with scissors cut in half along the fold.

6. Set a half sheet of nori, shiny-side down, horizontally in front of you. Place the musubi mold or Spam can in the middle of the nori in a vertical position. Dip the measure into the water and shake off the excess. Scoop ⅓ cup of rice and make a bed in the bottom of the mold. Dip a spoon into the water and tamp down the rice. Add a slice of Spam, a little wasabi mayonnaise, about 1 teaspoon of pickled ginger, and 1 teaspoon of rice seasoning.

7. Dip the measure into water, shake off, and scoop another ⅓ cup of rice. Spread over the seasonings. With the back of a wet spoon, firmly tamp down the rice. If using a musubi press, dip the flat lid into the water, shake off, and tamp down on the rice.

8. Carefully lift the mold or can off the rice. With a wet finger dab the right edge of the nori. Bring the left side up and over the rice. Bring the right side up to overlap the left side. Lightly press down on the seam. Set the finished musubi on a tray, lightly covered with plastic wrap. Repeat with the remaining nori, rice, Spam, and seasonings.

9. To cut the musubi, wet a paper towel and moisten the edge of a knife (not serrated). Cut the block in half. Wet the knife again and cut each piece in half to make 4 pieces. Continue with the other blocks. Arrange the slices on a platter. Serve with cucumber pickles. Adapted from Susumu Ito

Fried rice with Spam and pineapple

Serves 4

One of the most popular ways to use Spam is in a Chinese-style fried rice with pineapple. Leftover short- or long-grain rice that has been refrigerated overnight works well; this removes some of the moisture and makes it crispier after frying.

4 teaspoons vegetable oil

1 onion, chopped

Half of a 12-ounce can Spam or Spam Lite, cut into 1-inch chunks

1 cup frozen peas and carrots

2 cups cooked white rice

Salt and pepper, to taste

2 tablespoons hoisin sauce

1 can (8 ounces) pineapple chunks, drained and roughly chopped

2 eggs

2 teaspoons dark sesame oil

1 scallion, finely chopped

1. In a large skillet over medium heat, heat 3 teaspoons of the oil. Add the onion and cook, stirring, for 5 minutes. Add the Spam and cook, stirring often, for 3 minutes, or until the Spam is lightly browned. Stir in the peas and carrots and cook for 1 minute more.

2. Add the rice, salt, and pepper. Stir well until completely combined. Cook, stirring often, for 3 minutes, or until the rice begins to brown. Stir in the hoisin sauce and pineapple. Cook, stirring, for 1 minute more.

3. In a bowl, whisk the eggs and sesame oil. With a wooden spoon, push the rice to the side of the skillet farthest from you. Sprinkle the remaining 1 teaspoon oil in the empty part of the skillet. Heat it for 30 seconds. Pour the eggs into the skillet and cook, stirring constantly, until they start to scramble. Fold them into the rice as they begin to set.

4. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper, if you like. Sprinkle with scallions.Debra Samuels

Whether tuna is raw in sushi and sashimi, grilled as a steak, or scooped from a can, the fish is awash in controversy. Overfishing, mercury levels, and dolphins caught in nets meant for tuna account for this. Where once a tuna sandwich for lunch was a routine event, we no longer eat canned tuna without thinking about it. Still, almost everyone has a can in the cupboard, for that favorite sandwich spread with mayo, or without adornment to add substance to a green salad or a pasta sauce.

Most tuna absorb mercury by feeding on other fish or by eating plants exposed to it, whether naturally or through pollution. Albacore white tuna is a larger species, which generally has more mercury. Skipjack, a smaller species, is used in chunk light canned tuna. Mercury levels also depend on the age and provenance of the fish.

The Food and Drug Administration recommends limiting the amount of fish with higher mercury levels and eating low-mercury fish such as shrimp, canned light tuna,catfish, pollock, and salmon. The complete FDA list is at www.fda.gov.

We tasted seven brands of chunk light canned tuna in water with a group of students from Boston University’s Culinary Arts program. Students alternated slices of apple with plain tuna. Color ranged from light beige to a more tawny, darker shade.

Brands with larger chunks made one taster comment: “The solid chunk of tuna was a good sign of the taste.” Another taster said after sampling Starkist (she didn’t know what brand it was at the time), “Needs a whole apple to cleanse my palate.” One student was happy to taste tuna in water because that’s what she buys, then adds her own olive oil. “I taste the metal in the can when you buy the tuna in olive oil.”

Our future chefs were looking for a “pleasant fish taste,” but nothing “fishy tasting.” For texture they wanted something “moist but not slimy.” Although there was no overwhelming winner, a Stop & Shop house brand, Nature’s Promise, with three ingredients (light tuna, water, and salt) was the favorite. No single brand was considered worst, but Starkist and Natural Sea (bought at Whole Foods) tied for the honor.

Say, did anyone notice that cans of tuna shrank from 7 ounces to 5 ounces? You have to spread it mighty thin for more than two sandwiches. Just another complaint, among many.

Bumble Bee Chunk Light Tuna in Water

$1.49 for 5 ounces

First the appearance: “Slightly wet look that makes it appear fresh. Excess moisture gives it a mushy texture. Pleasant canned tuna flavor.” “Appears moist, but mushy. Small broken pieces. No cohesive coloring. Mix of pink and white. More chewy.” “Great appearance, moist. Has fish flavor with no uncomfortable aftertaste.” Texture: “Kind of bland and the moisture is quite over the top. Wouldn’t make good tuna salad.” “Very wet and finely chopped. Has very fishy smell.” One taster gave it the ultimate insult. “How I imagine cat food to taste. But I like the texture.”

Chicken of the Sea Chunk Light Tuna in Water

$1.83 for 5 ounces

Many noticed the size of the chunks (actually shreds), but the flavor was decent. “Looks over-processed, but nice and moist. Not a lot of flavor.” “Appears crablike due to small shreds. Moist and more salty than rest.” “Grainy and dry with good flavor.” Finally: “Very broken up into small pieces. Moist and good flavor. Lacking in texture, almost chalky.” One pan: “Looks like mushy wet cardboard. Sadly, it tastes like it too.”

Food Club Chunk Light Tuna in Water

$1.19 for 5 ounces

The moist texture elicited “mushy,” “slimy,” and “gummy” comments. “The wet look made it seem fresher but it turns to mush in your mouth. Feels over-processed.” “Small flakes. Moist appearance. Dries out very fast. Slimy in the mouth. Taste is almost nonexistent.” “Not horrible. Way too slimy.” “Salty with a decent tuna flavor. Gummy in the mouth.” “Has an aluminum taste. Very wet and pretty odorless.”

One chose this as least favorite, but submitted a thesis: “Disturbingly moist, soggy, and uncomfortably soft in the mouth. I have a feeling you could spread this tuna as is, but you wouldn’t want to. Similar to the texture of wet cat food, upsetting.” Two tasters were not as put off: “Light and fluffy. Good taste and light color.” “It doesn’t really look bad.”

Geisha Chunk Light Tuna in Water

89 cents for 5 ounces

This brand was the least expensive of the lot. Alas, some skin among the flakes. “I got a piece of tuna skin. Could be either artisanal or sloppy manufacturing. I think it is the latter. Taste-wise, not bad.” “Lighter more delicate flavor, almost like shellfish. Texture is a little mushy.” “Looks very dry but actually fairly moist. A little grainy, not great flavor.” “Very dry in the mouth, almost feels difficult to chew. Mild flavor. Slightly metallic aftertaste.” “Tastes like sawdust.” Still, one chose it as a favorite: “Perfectly chunked. Not fishy, very weak flavor, texture is moist and appealing.”

Nature’s Promise Natural Chunk Light Tuna in Water

(Stop & Shop house brand) $1.65 for 5 ounces

“Best tuna flavor by far. Texture is moderately dry.” “Darker in color. Moist, classic tuna taste. Overall, very pleasant.’’ “Has a good texture and taste not too fishy.” “Very moist and appealing mouth feel but not too pretty to look at because it appears rather soggy. Good flavor, just adequately fishy.” Another expounded on the dryness. “Looks nice and flaky. Very dry, not pleasant to eat. Sticks to your mouth because it lacks moisture.” One who chose it as the worst also noted its dryness. “Thin larger pieces, a hint of unpleasant aroma, like gasoline/oil/fumes. Dries out quickly in mouth. Unpleasant texture that lingers.”

Natural Sea Chunk Light Tuna in Water

$2.99 for 6 ounces

The most expensive of the seven we tasted, this brand, which we found at Whole Foods Market, drew lots of negative comments. “Nasty tuna. Way too fishy. Not even chunked. It has specks.” “Comes in big clumps of tuna. Particularly salty.” “A bolder, even darker, flavor than some of the others, but not overly fishy. I am disturbed by this tuna’s appearance. Rigid concentric circles that remind me of cat food.” It was chosen worst by two tasters. “Parts are dried out. Unpleasant lingering aftertaste. Very fishy flavor.” “Looks very dry and tastes grainy. It felt like I had fine sand in my mouth. Such an unpleasant texture.” But a favorite for one: “Large chunks, appears to have more value. Provides nice chew and dissolves evenly in mouth. Mild aroma, almost unnoticeable.”

Starkist Chunk Light Tuna in Water

$1.55 for 5 ounces

“From the look of it, I have a very good feeling about this one. It doesn’t taste spectacular. Very solid can of tuna.” “Lots of moisture when chewed, but tuna holds its form and texture. Very pleasant tuna taste.” Two could taste the can: “This one has a slightly metallic taste. The texture is only slightly dry.” “Metallic aftertaste that lingers.” Others also found it lacking. “Very dry. No distinctive character. Leaves unpleasant texture in mouth.” “Very bland. Hardly tastes like anything. Mushy and boring.” One chose it the least favorite: “Horrible. Never buy!”

This group of articles appeared in the G section of “The Boston Globe on January 13, 2013. They are all about cooking with fire. It was a lot of fun to write and research.

Wood-burning ovens take on new life in restaurants

Despite freezing temperatures outside, the door to the contemporary Brookline restaurant Lineage is wide open. Chef de cuisine Richard Morin is getting ready to build the daily fire in a large freestanding wood-burning oven. “Fire is a living thing, it needs food and air,” he says. Morin builds his base with two pieces of hardwood (usually oak) parallel to each other and another across the top. He loosely crumples copies of last night’s menu and sets a few beneath the logs, along with kindling. He aims a butane torch and a flame licks the paper. The fire is slow at first but then the dry logs combust and a blast of heat comes from the mouth of the oven.

“You can’t be in a rush when you cook with fire,” says Morin. It will be two hours and more than a dozen logs later before glowing wood embers get the oven to the right temperature. “Historically, this is why a cast-iron kettle was set in front of a fireplace to cook all day.”

The chef of Bricco Ristorante and Enoteca in the North End is also cooking with fire, as is Michael Leviton of Area Four in Cambridge, and others around the city and the country. A fire has been at the center of human social life from the beginning, and an enclosed hearth gives any restaurant a welcoming feeling. But these ovens are not for decor or ambience. They are workhorses, central to the cooking of many, if not most, dishes on the menu. What’s appealing about wood-fueled ovens is the intense, dry heat that sears food, creating a crusty exterior and a moist interior. In a cast-iron skillet, Morin sears slices of foie gras with matsutake mushrooms and bacon, he roasts chicken, fires pizza, and braises lamb.

Both Lineage and Area Four have Wood Stone ovens made in Washington state. Both chefs cook in cast iron and use the ambient heat in the oven for braising (about 220 degrees),

after the fire has died down. These state-of-the-art ovens are regulated by digital thermometers mounted to a wall nearby to keep track of interior temperatures, which hover around 500 degrees.

The Pilgrims built their houses at Plimoth Plantation to make the hearth and its fire central to their lives. It was where the women cooked, the family gathered, and everyone stayed warm. Explains Kathleen Wall, Plimoth’s Colonial Foodways Culinarian, “A house in the 17th century was one 20-foot-by-20-foot room.”

At Lineage, Morin, a Framingham native, uses a long-handled tool to push the blazing fire to the rear of the oven.

He recalls family campfires and pie irons. “My dad would get a whole loaf of white bread and cans of apple pie filling for us kids. We would put in a piece of bread, the pie filling and another piece of bread, and close the pie iron [and toast it]. I get goose bumps just thinking about it.”

Caruso, who comes from the small village of Capestrano in Abruzzo, puts fresh apples and quince directly into the hot ash without any foil. When the fruit is tender, he peels away the skin. “The ash imparts a very special flavor to the fruit,” he says.

Although home cooks can’t achieve the extreme temperatures of a restaurant’s wood-fired oven, we can do some of the same things in our fireplaces after the logs burn down to embers.

Caruso’s favorite wood-cooked dish is whole fish. He’s making two tonight, both with Mediterranean fish, one a branzino, the other orata. He brushes the branzino with a flour-and-water paste and presses handfuls of large-crystal salt onto the skin.

When it emerges from the oven, he breaks open the salt crust with a knife and his hands. “You have to be able to stand the heat,” he says, wincing a little. Under the skin, the sweet flesh is moist and surprisingly, not salty.

He cooks the orata in a packet of foil lined with parchment (this keeps the fish from tasting metallic), stuffs it with vegetables, and surrounds it with artichokes.

“We add vermouth to the packet before we serve it,” says the chef, “so when the foil is opened at the table, you get a blast of aroma.”

Bricco’s oven is the center of activity in his open kitchen, with staff using a long metal paddle to ease dishes in, reposition others, and give the blazing cavity a sense of musical meals.

Cook in your own fireplace 

It takes about two hours and eight logs to get a nice bed of embers for cooking. We learned this when a glowing red and white-hot bed remained after another lazy holiday fire was fed log after log. Surely this glorious heat could be used to cook real food — not just chestnuts and s’mores, but a cast-iron skillet of sizzling chicken,

roasted red peppers close to the embers for peeling and turning into a sweet-and-sour Italian salad, a pot of quick baked beans with hot dogs.

And so the fireplace at home became the cooking hearth for certain things. Equipment included a favorite cast- iron skillet found years ago at a flea market,

a couple of old cake racks to set on the log stand, fireplace gloves, and long tongs. The daily experimentation began.

We made grilled cheese sandwiches with Muenster and honey-baked ham in double-handled pie irons (from a camping trip), rotating them above the embers. We unlatched the hook to find perfectly toasted sandwiches.

A trip to the library yielded “The Kids Campfire Cookbook,” by Jane Drake and Ann Love. The recipes for hot dogs with a coil of homemade biscuit dough,

for baked apples with cinnamon,

and for bananas, split and stuffed with chocolate chips and marshmallows wrapped in foil, were all delicious.

Looks like we’re not the only ones with an interest.

Fireplace safety tips for cooking

Assistant Fire Chief John T. Fleck of the Lexington Fire Department says cooking in your fireplace is OK and “sounds great.” Before you do, he says, “Make sure the fireplace and chimney are up to code, which means it has been inspected and cleaned.” Fleck also recommends having a fire extinguisher on hand. “I’m old school,” says Fleck. “A cheap option is to fill a coffee can with baking soda and have it nearby.”

Keep children away from the fireplace. Although the flames may be gone, the heat is still intense. When cooking, use fireplace tools to move the coals around, spreading them evenly to create a bed of heat. Use long handled tongs and forks and a pair of heavy fireplace gloves. Stay next to the fireplace while cooking.

Fleck reminds cooks not to close the flue to the chimney until the ashes have completely extinguished. “I know that people are worried about losing heat, but this is very important.” Here are his other suggestions.

10 fireplace tips for cooking

1. Make sure your flue is wide open.

2. Make sure there is a fire-retardant carpet or proper hearth floor in front of the fireplace.

3. Have a good source of ventilation.

4. Check to be certain your smoke and carbon monoxide detectors are in working order.

5. Properly dispose of ashes. Disposal of ashes is done only when they are cooled down and put in a proper container with a lid (fires go out when they are deprived of air). The best way is to let the ashes self-extinguish.

6. Do not wear loose clothing.

7. Use proper tools for cooking: cast-iron (not aluminum), long handled utensils.

8. Have a fire extinguisher nearby.

9. Do not ever use charcoal in the fireplace.

10. Have a small first-aid kit on hand, just in case there are minor burns.D.S.

RECIPES

Quick baked beans on the fire

Serves 4

Make these baked beans with small white canned beans, bacon, and seasonings. The flavor is light, not cloyingly sweet or over-sauced like commercial canned beans, where sugar is often a main ingredient. Instead of the traditional salt pork, use strips of smoky uncured bacon. Set a cast-iron pot on your stove or over a fire’s embers.

1. Heat a deep cast-iron skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat for 1 minute. Add the bacon and cook for 1 minute. Add the onion and cook for 8 minutes, stirring often, or until it softens.

2. Stir in the beans, tomato sauce and paste, molasses, mustard powder, salt, and water until well combined. Bring to a boil.

3. Set a cake rack over the log rack, making sure it is stable. With a fireplace tool, distribute the embers so they form a thin layer. Set the pot on the rack. Cook the beans for 15 minutes or until they are flavorful.

4. Remove the cover and cook, stirring often, 1 minute more. Discard the bacon, taste for seasoning, and add more salt, if you like.  Debra Samuels

Hot dogs in biscuit buns

Serves 4

This is an all-in-one hot dog and bun recipe. Make a simple biscuit dough, shape it into several rounds, form ropes, and wrap them around the hot dogs. You can insert a metal skewer into one end of the frank to hold and rotate over the embers or set the pastry-wrapped dogs on a wire rack.

1. In a bowl, whisk the 1 cup flour, salt, and baking powder.

2. With your fingers work the butter into the flour until the butter is in coarse crumbs. Add the milk and stir with a fork until it forms a dough; it will be very sticky.

3. Sprinkle 1 teaspoon of flour onto the top of the dough. Dip your fingers into the flour. Lightly knead the dough and form it into a ball. Divide the dough into 4 pieces and roll each into a ball.

4. Roll 1 ball between your palms to create an 8-inch rope. Starting from the top, wrap the dough around the hot dog in a spiral. Pinch the dough together at the top and bottom to keep the dough from uncoiling during cooking. Repeat with the remaining hot dogs and remaining dough.

5. Set a wire rack on top of the log stand so the rack does not touch the embers. With a fireplace tool, disperse the embers so they are about 2 inches from the bottom of the rack. Set the hot dogs on the rack. Cook, turning every minute for about 6 minutes, until thepastry is puffed and lightly golden. Watch carefully so the pastry does not burn.  Adapted from “The Kids Campfire Cookbook”

Chicken thighs with rosemary

Serves 4

1. In a shallow dish, toss the chicken thighs with lemon juice, olive oil, rosemary, salt, and pepper. With your hands rub the seasonings into the thighs. Cover the chicken and refrigerate for 1 hour.

2. Place a rack over the log stand. Wearing fireplace gloves, set a cast-iron skillet on the rack and let it heat for 1 minute. Transfer the chicken to the skillet. Cook for 3 minutes. With tongs, turn the chicken and cook 3 minutes more. Turn the chicken again and cook 1 minute more on each side or until golden.

3. Remove the skillet from the rack. Serve from the pan with lemon wedges.  Debra Samuels 

This is what Fabien Fieschi, 39, consul general of France in Boston, has done. Originally from the coastal city of Marseille, Fieschi (pronounced Fee-es-key) arrived in this post in August and won’t be home for Christmas. Instead, he will have a Provencal-style celebration here, with his Japanese wife, Yuki, 40, and their sons, Emilien, 9, and Julien, 7, at a table spread with Les Treize Desserts de Noël, the 13 desserts of Christmas. They will also gather around a small creche that his mother, Jacqueline, made for this peripatetic family.

The Provencal holiday table is laden with food and symbolism. Three candlesticks and three tablecloths, layered one on top of the other, signify the Holy Trinity. The 13 desserts represent the 12 Apostles and Christ at the Last Supper. This feast of sweets follows Gros Souper (grand meal), the Christmas Eve menu, which is a multicourse fish dinner.

When it comes time for dessert, each guest must taste all 13. “We enjoy Sauternes or muscat [wines] with them,” says Fieschi. Items on the table vary by family and region, but all include a decorative bread, dried fruits and nuts, fresh winter fruits, and some confections.

“My earliest memory of the 13 desserts,” says Fieschi, “is my mother, who is not originally from [Provence], making the pompe a l’huile.” Literally “oil pump,” that yeasty flatbread is scented with orange-flower water. In the Fieschi residence on Christmas Eve, another yeast flatbread, called fougasse, is on the menu. In the kitchen, chef Etienne Jaulin, 54, rolls and stretches fougasse dough into triangles, and makes slits in them, separating the dough to resemble leaves.

Jaulin trained as a pastry chef in Paris and has been cooking at the residence since last spring, before the Fieschi family arrived. He has lived in the United States for 29 years, working in restaurants and the food industry in Washington, D.C., Virginia, North Carolina, and Iowa. He shops, plans menus, and cooks for official events. “I always ask the citizenship of the guests,” says Jaulin. “If the French are coming I prepare sweetbreads and a cheese course. Most Americans don’t like that, so I make a beef daube [stew] when they come.”

On the celebration table, fougasse is always torn and shared among the guests, as Christ would have done it, never cut. If it is cut, bad luck will follow. The savory fougasse resembles Italian focaccia in taste, but the texture is a bit crunchier, the dough mixed with olive oil, the top sprinkled with thyme, rosemary, sea salt, pepper, and olives.

With his curly blond hair, jeans, and neon green sneakers — “They are comfortable,” says the chef, mischievously — Jaulin could fit right into a hip American restaurant kitchen. He slides each bread onto cornmeal-dusted baking sheets, and sends them into a 500-degree oven in the Wolf range. It is the only professional equipment in the kitchen. He is also baking traditional fennel and cumin cookies.

Also on the table go dried fruits such as figs and raisins, along with hazelnuts, walnuts, and almonds. The colors are thought to recall the religious order garb of Dominicans, Franciscans, Carmelites, and Augustinians.

In the French countryside, whether or not the dessert table is elaborate depends on a family’s income. “You know, it is like if you make minimum wage, you have an apple. If you make more money, you have tarte Tatin,” Jaulin says.

He grew up eating buche de Noel, the rolled cake made with a soft sponge, filled with butter cream icing, and covered with chocolate icing combed with a special fork to re-create the lines of a log. His own modern take on this French classic is a frozen version that he makes with rods of different flavored ice cream set between thin layers of genoise.

Among the other specialties on many traditional tables are a variety of candied fruits (chestnut, pear, apricot, tangerine), quince paste, apricots or prunes stuffed with nuts or almond paste, and candied citron. There are also white and black rectangles of nougat, a confection made with sugar, egg whites, honey, and nuts, another specialty of Provence. The white is soft and chewy, the black hard and crunchy. They represent good and evil and/or the changing of the season into winter. Citruses, apples, pears, and white grapes and winter melons are prominently displayed.

The large dining room has a fireplace and windows overlooking a garden. Two walls are covered with French-made reproduction wallpaper, put in five years ago, depicting a panoramic scene titled “Boston Harbor,” by a French artist in 1834.

Fieschi, who has Corsican ancestry, has just returned from France with confections for the celebration: the candied fruits, chestnuts, nougat, and the famous Calissons d’Aix, small oval confections made from almond paste covered with royal icing. Yuki Fieschi was particularly happy to see the marrons glaces (candied chestnuts). She peels away the gold foil from each one and announces, “These are delicious.”

The Brattle Street residence where the Fieschis live is now owned by the French government. It was built in 1917 for artist Albert Felix Schmitt, a member of the Boston School of painters and of the Guild of Boston Artists. The entire top floor was once the artist’s studio and has a magnificent skylight.

Although most formal dinner parties are held on the first floor, the massive light-filled atelier, with a grand piano, is a fine setting for larger events. A kitchen on that floor saves Jaulin many trips up and down three flights.

Fabien Fieschi, who is fluent in Japanese, attended a Japanese university for a year. His fields of expertise are Asia and strategic affairs, and his postings have including the United Nations in New York, Tokyo, and Paris. France has had a mission in Boston since 1768, he says. He met his wife in Tokyo, where she studied clothing design. At the time she spoke almost no French, but is fluent now and chats away comfortably with Jaulin to plan menus. Their sons move easily between Japanese and French and are learning English at the International School of Boston.

After Christmas, says Fabien Fieschi, “We also celebrate Japanese New Year’s traditions by eating toshikoshi soba [noodles] on New Year’s Eve and mochi [sticky rice cakes] on January 1st.”

The consul general’s responsibilities extend to all the New England states (there are nine other French consulates in the country in addition to the embassy in Washington). There are about 7,500 French citizens living in this region, to whom the consul provides support. “We also work with French business, small labs, and faculty doing research,” explains Fieschi. The office also offers services to non-French citizens who seek to study, visit, or do business in France.

Jaulin takes the fennel and cumin cookies from the oven and sets them on a plate.

He tucks whole almonds into molded logs of almond paste and places them between rows of cookies, then rolls apricots and prunes, also stuffed with almond paste, into sugar to sparkle the edges.

The fougasse and a footed dish of fruits are in the center of the table. Yuki Fieschi places the nougat on a small plate.

All the confections Fabien Fieschi brought with him from France are artfully arranged. “Calissons d’Aix were my favorites growing up,” he says.

Jaulin dashes into the garden and cuts pine boughs for a splash of green.

The Fieschis unwrap the hand-painted creche and set it on a table in the hall.

“The important thing to remember,” says Fabien Fieschi, “is that the baby Jesus is absent from the scene until Christmas, the day of his birth.”

They are not really without family. They have their traditions.

I’m on a toot. I get like this every once in a while. I read a book by an author that is new to me and I have to read everything they ever wrote. I see a knitting pattern or yarn I like for a pair of socks and I am knitting socks for the next 6 months. You get the picture?

So when Holly Jennings, creator of the on-line Dowdy Corners Cookbook Club, of which I am a member, offered up “Secrets of a Jewish Baker: Recipes for 125 Breads from Around the World,”by George Greenstein, 10 Speed Press, Revised Edition 2007, as the next selection to work from,  I was thrilled!

This would be a real opportunity to learn how to make the breads I loved and grew up on:seeded ryes,  pumpernickel loaves, bagels, bialys, bulky and onion rolls.  These yeasted Eastern European breads were the domain of Jewish bakeries and no one I knew ever baked them.

“Secrets of a Jewish Baker”  covers a wide variety of breads. In fact most of the recipes are not for Jewish style breads.  Greenstein, happens to be Jewish and owned a Jewish bakery on Long Island. He has written a book that  imparts his  knowledge, tips and tricks as a third generation  professional baker, to the home baker.

The first 2 chapters are about materials and techniques.  I wanted to learn how to make my favorites along with the dark health breads I had come to love after spending time in Berlin, Germany.  So I  focused on the Sour dough and Rolls chapters.It is critical to read the recipes you plan on making before setting out. You will need special flours (clear flour, rye and pumpernickel) and other ingredients not usually found in  your cupboard such as malt syrup, rye chops  and caramel color or  in standard supermarkets. I was able to get many items in Whole Foods, but  I still needed to  shop on the King Arthur Flour website for some items.  Greenstein does give you alternatives, but I suggest  using the right ingredients the first time.

Well in order to make rye bread, you have to have a rye sour. Uh oh. Already I am in over my head.  A rye sour is a starter, a fermented mixture which gives the bread a distinctive flavor and helps with leavening.   I had never made a starter from scratch but I was committed to giving this a go. I was as interested in the process as producing a good result.  Besides, rye flour,a smidge of yeast, a teaspoon of minced onion and caraway seeds, I also needed time; at least 48 hours before the sour was even ready to go into a recipe.  No problem.

I also needed  help  to interpret the instructions in the sour recipe. It wasn’t that they weren’t clear; they were unfamiliar.   Besides being the founder of the Dowdy Corners Cookbook Club, Holly Jennings is my friend and a fine editor. She edited my first cookbook, “The Korean Table,” when she worked at Tuttle Publishing.  Holly needed to do research for an article on muffins she was writing for The Boston Globe,  so she came to stay with me in Lexington and in addition to her research  we spent several days making starters and bagels together. Two heads and hands were much better than one.

MAKING THE RYE SOUR

First we made the starter, as we would be waiting 24 hours for the fermentation to begin. As I write this, I have just made my 5th batch of Russian Health bread with the original starter. It worked!

We crushed caraway seeds and added it to a a mixture of rye flour, water, a smidge of yeast and a little grated onion.

The rye sour is ready to make  breads!  There is a strong smell of rye and fermentation.

First up a seeded rye.

It’s alive!

Special flour, called clear flour is used in many ryes. It is less refined and low in gluten.  You can use regular white flour, but says Greenstein,”It won’t taste as good.”  I used clear flour. The dough is kneaded, rests for 15 minutes, shaped and set aside rise until double in bulk.

    

Rye bread!

Dense interior with a crunchy crust. Outstanding toast.  Can’t believe I made that!

The other bread  is a commercial rye bread, from a Jewish bakery no less!

Russian Health Bread
If you like those square dense, almost black German health bread loaves, you will surely love this bread.  Greenstein calls this Russian Health Bread and it is also made with the rye sour.  It includes rye chops (chopped  up rye berries) and pumpernickel flour.

It’s a feisty little dough that takes a bit of strength to knead.

Kneading the Russian Health Bread

But it eventually behaves and forms a heavy smooth ball that rises until double in bulk.

Then cut into four pieces with 2 pieces each set into a loaf pan. And set to rise again.

Just before baking you send your finger from the center to the bottom of the loaf. I have no idea why.

This has everything I look for in a bread: it is dense, moist, toothsome and has a tang.  Love it with the the wonderful veggie cream cheese Greenstein has in the book made with diced radishes, green onions, celery and shredded carrots.

Stay tuned for Holly and Deb’s bagel bonanza!

 By Debra Samuels

She made Depression stew after falling out of love in Paris; a yeasty, cinnamon-scented prune-plum cake when she missed Berlin; and a simple French chicken saute when she lived in New York and wanted to make a nice dinner for roommates.

Weiss was born in Cold War West Berlin to an American-Jewish father, Richard Weiss, a mathematics teacher, and an Italian mother, Letizia Cosentino Weiss, a translator. Her parents divorced when she was 3 and her trans-Atlantic existence began. Today she is fluent in German, Italian, French, and English, and comfortable in those cultures as well. But the little girl’s heart was divided by her parents’ split. “Polenta was the last meal my mother made for me before I left for Boston with my father. To this day I still can’t eat it,” says Weiss. There is no recipe for it in the book.

She attended school in Brookline, where she lived with her father, now a mathematics professor at Tufts (his specialty: tomato sauce and a dish she calls “fake baked beans”). Holidays were spent in West Berlin, where her mother lived, summers in the Italian countryside with relatives, including a Sicilian uncle whose cooking stoked her growing interest (he made skewers of grilled beef).

Still, says Weiss, “I missed the scent of my mother.” She returned to Berlin at age 10 for middle and high school, reversing the rhythm of vacations. Her mother wasn’t much interested in cooking, but Weiss fondly remembers homey braised artichokes and potatoes. The young girl started clipping recipes and took them into the kitchen.

After graduating from Tufts, she worked in Paris and New York, wondering where, and with whom, to live (she was engaged, then backed out). Finally she returned to the city and man she loved: Berlin and Max Beuchel, whom she married (split-pea soup). Beuchel, a Berlin native, works for Volkswagen.

In early summer, native strawberries are everywhere, even at train stations. “They are so aromatic and glow with freshness, I can eat an entire container in a day,” she writes.

Winters she anticipates Christmas goose, which she considers “a pain in the neck to prepare, but so worth it when you are tucking into the dark rich flesh and wonderful gravy.”

Berlin’s food scene has expanded dramatically since Weiss’s childhood. The city’s large Turkish population brought doner kebabs, spicy meat wrapped in flatbread; another wildly popular dish is currywurst, grilled franks slathered in a ketchup-like sauce with curry.

Both are sold at outdoor stands. Berlin food, says Weiss, “has become far more international than it once was and there are far more places to eat, from the casual to the very fancy.” Still, she adores currywurst.

Hugo begins to stir, looking for sustenance. No currywurst for this boy and his mother won’t need to budge from the sofa. She seems content as she prepares to feed him.

Read Luisa Weiss’s blog at www.thewednesdaychef.com. She will sign books on Oct. 2 at 7 p.m. at the Harvard Bookstore, 1256 Massachusetts Ave., Cambridge, 617-661-1515.

BERLIN — Isn’t it fitting that the country that gave us hamburgers and frankfurters
now consumes fast food from Turkey and Lebanon? Doener from Turkey and
shawarma from Lebanon — tasty sandwiches using spiced meat carved from a rotating spit — feed Berliners of all ethnicities.

Comfort foods accompany emigres the world over, and Germany is no exception.
What once was exotic fare is now to Germans what pizza and bagels are to
Americans — just another fast food with personality.

Standing alone or tucked into little shops with windows opening to the street, imbiss, or snack stands, are ubiquitous in Berlin. Patrons can save their euros for the more expensive evening meals and get freshly made hot sandwiches, which are meals in themselves, for as little as 2.50 euros (about $2.70). Most imbiss have no seating; patrons stand at tall bistro tables. Seating means the establishment is required to provide restroom facilities. But how long can you linger when there’s no place to sit?

At Winterfeldt Platz in the Schoeneberg district, Habibi’s is known for its shawarma and falafel. Its engaging Lebanese owner, who has been in Germany for 12 years, makes no adjustments for the German palate. Layers of boned and skinned chicken are marinated in spices and pressed together. After steaming, the huge funnel-shaped concoction is slowly roasted, gyrating on a spit under intense heat. An onion sits atop it to add flavor. Young men carve thin slices of chicken from the spit onto flat bread.

French fries and pickles nestle against the chicken. After a dressing of tangy yogurt, the bread is wrapped around the ingredients. Habibi’s is clean and lively. Fresh fruit juices, yogurt drinks, and desserts are also available. You will be full for no more than about $4.30. If you can, go on a Wednesday or Saturday before 3 p.m., when the market on the plaza in front is in full swing.

The friendly shopkeeper at the Istanbul Grill near the Buelowstrasse station has adjusted to German palates by adding more vegetables and sauces to his doeners, which in Turkey are mostly meat. Served on flat bread that closes around steaming ingredients, the doeners at the Istanbul Grill have a garlic sauce and use different herbs.

Step up to the window and ask for a doener or choose another of his Turkish specialties, like the lahmacun, a pizzalike snack sprinkled with spiced ground meat, lemon, and paprika. Nothing costs more than a few euros. Eat while you walk, or stand inside the shop.

How about a little curry with your wurst? Currywurst, Berlin’s specialty, is a sausage served ”ohne darm” (without the casing) or ”mit darm” (in the casing). It is sliced and served on a paper plate with a sweet, spicy variety of ketchup and generous sprinklings of curry and paprika. No currywurst meal would be complete without salty fried potatoes.

Berliners love their currywurst and line up for it outdoors at imbiss stalls all over the city. With their elbows propped on chest-high tables, diners stand and pierce their steaming wurst with a long, two-pronged fork.

Curry 36 is a family-owned business on Mehringdamm, a broad boulevard in the Kreuzberg district. Home to the largest Turkish community in Berlin, Kreuzberg is slightly off the tourist trail but is a lively neighborhood where funky antique and secondhand clothing shops line the streets. Weave your way around laundromats. Step into a baeckerei and take in the savories and sweets of a
neighborhood bakery. Delicatessens, mom-and-pop produce shops, and bars and cafes filled with students line the street. Curry 36 has won numerous ”best currywurst in town” awards, and its famous sauce is homemade. The smell of frying potatoes and onions is an aromatic magnet. Serpentine lines at all hours attest to the popularity of this place. No problem for a hungry night owl: Curry 36 is open until 4 a.m. Take the U7 subway (called the U-Bahn) to Mehringdamm. Have your fill of currywurst, explore the neighborhood, visit Viktoria Park on Kreuzbergstrasse, where you can see a waterfall and climb to the top of the hill to view all of Berlin spread out below Karl Schinkel’s imposing monument.

You can get some of the best fries and currywurst in town at the outdoor Fritz & Co. on the fashionable Kurfuerstendamm, known as the Ku’damm (roughly comparable to Boston’s Boylston and Newbury streets). Here the potatoes are from organic farms, thick-cut, and still in their skins.
A sign says the wurst comes from happy pigs: free range and well fed.Shoppers in fancy leather jackets share standing-room-only spots with workers taking a break. Many of the imbiss and outdoor cafes on the Ku’damm have conical heaters perched on tall stands.

Wurst is found on most menus across the city. Unlike American hot dogs that are completely encased in soft rolls, these sausages are eaten on crusty rolls called broetchen that barely surround the meat. You chomp your way through a few crisp inches before finding the bread. A smear of spicy mustard and a local beer complete the experience. After strolling around the city, rest your feet by taking a seat at a local cafe. The kartoffelsuppe, a hearty potato soup (again with wurst), a slice of dark German whole-grain bread, and a beer are satisfying and won’t leave you stuffed or with empty pockets. In your wanderings, don’t fail to stop into a bar for a Berliner Weisse, the sweet concoction of draft beer spiked with a shot of raspberry or green syrup (traditionally served during the summer, but order it anyway). Don’t let the garish colors put you off.

The food hall in the elegant Kaufhaus des Westens department store (nicknamed KaDeWe) on the Ku’damm is not to be missed. Spectacular displays tantalize with chocolates, smoked fish, cured meats, and a staggering range of mustards, interspersed with food bars that offer champagne and caviar or apple streudel. Teddy-bear jars of mustards, honey, and chocolate spreads evoke Berlin’s mascot. Packages of dark pumpernickel rounds and tubes of sharp mustard all make wonderful, inexpensive gifts.

A visit to the new Berlin Jewish Museum, designed by Daniel Libeskind, is both an architectural and intellectual experience. The museum looks at Jewish life in Germany over many centuries, and though it does not dwell on the Holocaust, its memory is ever present. (Libeskind is the son of survivors.) The subway stop is Hallesches Tor.

Reminders of World War II are part of the city’s landscape. The decapitated Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, with its ruined steeple, stands unreconstructed in the city’s center; modern planners have made no attempt to smooth over the bullet holes in the magnificent Victory Column off the Tiergarten park.

Be vigilant. Look up and down as you tour Berlin. You could easily miss a small, rusting plaque embedded in the sidewalk reminding you of citizens who were torn from their homes.

The new Reichstag building, with its glass dome, is meant to show that Germany is now a transparent democracy. It is worth a visit.

It is hard to believe Berlin was split by an unbreachable wall only 14 years ago. Today one moves effortlessly, unaware of crossing from east to west. From an outdoor cafe on the Unter den Linden in the former communist East, look through the Brandenburg Gate and watch a dramatic sunset of pinks and oranges settle on this lively city.

Debra Samuels writes about food and travel for the Food section of the Globe.