[Photograph: Sam Soboliewski]

Spinach and artichoke dip may have Mediterranean-inspired ingredients, but most of the recipes out there are American through-and-through. Frozen spinach? Thank you, Clarence Birdseye! Mayonnaise, cream cheese, and sour cream? You betcha.

It appeals to our love of the hot and gooey, and I'll be the first to say it's great stuff. But I wanted to go a little lighter this time around, and the thought of baking two or three types of dairy in this heat just didn't sound all that tantalizing.

This version brings an all-American dip to its imagined Mediterranean roots. It relies on fresh spinach and garlic, olive oil and Greek yogurt. It's plenty rich, but it also tastes distinctly of its titular ingredients. And there's a tart, briny kick to contrast all the creaminess. Best of all? A few chips' worth doesn't make you feel like a nap.

Fresh spinach slow-cooked in olive oil becomes feathery and ethereal in a way frozen could never dream to be. Let it go limp but not mushy, as it'll continue to wilt as you build the dip. As for the artichokes, I get them marinated in a jar. They're the most convenient for dip-making purposes, and I think their brine tastes pretty good.

The creamy base is flexible—mayo, sour cream, or crème fraîche would all work to varying degrees—but strained yogurt adds a pleasant tang and substantial body, especially considering you only need half a cup. As it joins with the artichoke brine, they make magic. The only difficulty in this recipe is not overworking it in the food processor. Pulse it just enough to bring the dip together; there should still be visible chunks of spinach and artichoke in the mix.

This won't replace the family reunion standard preparation, but its relative lightness makes it perfect for a last-minute appetizer. Plunge in some pita chips and it'll be gone before you know it.

About the author: Max Falkowitz is a proud native of Queens, New York. He'll do just about anything for a good cup of tea and enjoys long walks down the aisles of Chinese groceries.

Ingredients

• 1/3 cup of olive oil
• 10 ounces of spinach, large stems removed
• 6 cloves of garlic, peeled and crushed
• 1 6 1/2 ounce jar of marinated artichokes, drained
• 1/2 cup of Greek yogurt
• 1 teaspoon of lemon juice

Procedures

1. Heat olive oil on medium-low heat, then add spinach. Add a good pinch of salt and stir often until the spinach wilts down. Let it cook till it becomes glossy, limp, and feathery in texture.

2. Add the garlic and cook another minute or two, just until the raw taste is cooked out. Then add the artichokes to heat them through, which allows their brine to easily mix with the olive oil.

3. Transfer the mixture to a food processor and add the yogurt and lemon juice. Pulse six to nine times or until just combined. Add additional salt and lemon juice if need be, then serve immediately or at room temperature.

You only need to follow a recipe once or twice when making tzatziki before the process becomes almost automatic. Thick tangy yogurt; crisp, sweet cucumber; pungent garlic and dill; sunny lemon. The formula, a staging ground for countless dip platters and a condiment for the thousands of gyros dished up daily, is as familiar to us now as salsa and ketchup. And its preparation is about as intuitive—recipes matter less than solid ingredients and a willingness to dip a tasting finger along the way.

That being said, there are some variations and tips worth considering if you're looking to improve your efforts.

Your first step should be to salt your cucumbers. I go for baby cucumbers because they make naturally smaller slices, but large ones work just as well. Removing the seeds and salting them for about half an hour before assembling the dip will make your cukes taste more cucumbery, and will relieve them of a lot of their water content. Excess water is the enemy of tzatziki. No one wants a watery dip. (Well, unless you want something like cacık or raita or one of the other innumerable yogurt-cucumber dips of the Mediterranean and Middle East.)

Likewise, your yogurt shouldn't be watery. Most supermarkets I've seen carry Fage yogurt, which is strained. It's good, but local or imported is better. If you live in New York, I recommend yogurt made by Kesso Foods, available in some specialty and Greek groceries. Their yogurt has a more nuanced dairy flavor and a complex acidity lacking in national brands. While you certainly can use low- or no-fat yogurt and still achieve a creamy, tasty dip, the flavors won't blend as nicely. Fat takes the edge off the lemon juice, and fattier yogurts accentuate garlic's flavor while reducing its harsh raw bite.

If you want a thinner dip or just something with a little less tartness, sour cream or crème fraîche can be substituted for some of the yogurt. The most typical add-ins are lemon juice, garlic, and dill; parsley, mint, or even olive oil wouldn't be strangers here. If you can, let your tzatziki sit a few hours before serving to let the flavors develop. Once it's ready, its uses are practically limitless (it's a topping! a dip! a spread!). But I prefer it plain, eaten as salad.

About the author: Max Falkowitz is a proud native of Queens, New York. He'll do just about anything for a good cup of tea and enjoys long walks down the aisles of Chinese groceries.

[Photographs: Max Falkowitz]

Ingredients

• 1 pound of cucumbers, ends removed and sliced lengthwise (6 "baby" cucumbers)
• 2 cups of strained yogurt (Greek or otherwise)
• 4 cloves of garlic, minced fine
• 1 large handful of dill, minced
• Juice of one lemon

Procedures

1. With a teaspoon, scoop out the seeds of the cucumbers. You should be left with a neat half-moon shape. Slice them thin, but not paper-thin—they should still have some crunch.

2. Add the cucumbers to a mixing bowl along with the rest of the ingredients. Taste for acid and seasoning, then either serve, or (preferably) cover and let it sit in the refrigerator for a few hours.

[Photograph: Max Falkowtiz]

My first meal in Turkey began with a chunky mush. Glossy brown with flecks of red and green, it didn't look that appetizing, but I figured the Turks knew what they were doing. After a tentative first spoonful, the rest was quickly devoured along with some fresh-from-the-oven flatbread. After more than a week of sampling Turkey's gustatory cornucopia, nothing felt so emblematic of the country as this spread.

I was later told I had eaten muhammara, a spread composed of roasted red peppers and walnuts. It's soaked and bound with a healthy amount of olive oil and nar ekşisi, pomegranate juice reduced to a thick syrup. It's tart, sweet, and rich—a salad dressing all on its own. Surprisingly affordable and versatile, it demands inclusion in your pantry. Kick out a vinegar if you have to.

Unlike most red pepper dips, where the flavor tends towards monotone, muhammara is a balance of sweetness, nuttiness, and acidity. The peppers themselves are roasted to a deep, luscious sweetness—even lame, early-summer specimens serve well. A large dose of parsley is a welcome addition, as is some red onion (though if it's not salted first, the onion will get bitter over time).

My version swaps pecans for the traditional walnuts out of personal preference, and adds in a little stale bread to help bind the dip.

Texture is the real challenge, though. You may be tempted to build this in the food processor, but far too often I've had it turn my delicately chunky mixtures into insipid pastes. I rely on a sharp knife (a cleaver, actually, I find perfect for this) and a little patience. Mince your ingredients together, then add enough olive oil and nar ekşisi to make the spread sit easily on a pita chip. Or finely chop all the ingredients but don't mince them when they're all combined. Wipe your hands and call it a bread salad. This serves well as both.

About the author: Max Falkowitz is a proud native of Queens, New York. He'll do just about anything for a good cup of tea and enjoys long walks down the aisles of Chinese groceries.

Ingredients

• 4 large red peppers, cut in half lengthwise and seeds removed
• 2 cups of pecans or walnuts, finely chopped
• 1 cup of stale bread cut into 1/4 inch cubes
• 1/2 of a small red onion, if you like and aren’t making this in advance
• 1 handful of chopped parsley
• 3 tablespoons of nar ekşisi
• 1/4 cup of extra virgin olive oil; use more or less as needed

Procedures

1. Spread some olive oil on a roasting pan and roast the peppers in a 450°F oven for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the skins are blackened and the flesh offers no resistance to a knife. You can also roast the peppers whole over a gas stove.

2. When the peppers have cooled enough to handle, remove most of the blackened skins, but leave some on if you like for a charred flavor. Roughly dice the peppers, then transfer them to a large cutting board with the other dry ingredients. Run across it all with a sharp knife until you have a slightly cohesive mass with chunks smaller than peas. Don’t over-mince. You can do this in a food processor, but go with brief pulses and the understanding that you may have to do the last bit of mincing by hand.

3. Transfer the mixture to a large bowl and add the nar ekşisi and salt to taste. Drizzle in enough olive oil to make a cohesive mass. Let the bread soak in the juices for a couple minutes, then serve.

[Flickr: jules.stonesoup]

White bean spread can be deceptively beguiling. It's often far too bland, not tasting of beans or much else. On the other end of the spectrum, anxious cooks may add flavoring after flavoring to liven up their muted, starchy paste, the result of which is usually also bland, but also wildly unbalanced. But with considered, minimalist flavors, it's as delicious as it is versatile, light but satisfying.

Although this recipe calls for plenty of garlic, it cooks along with the beans and mellows out substantially. Too much lemon juice could overwhelm the beans, but lemon zest provides considerable lemon flavor while the juice adds just enough tartness.

Just because I like my white bean spread simple doesn't mean I like it boring. My favorite seasoning is za'atar, a blend of dried herbs (usually thyme, sometimes with others), sesame seeds, and spices like sumac. A za'atar heavy on the thyme and sesame seeds is my favorite. The thyme and the lemon make magic together and the sesame seeds add a hint of nuttiness welcome in a blend so reliant on lighter aromatics. Beware that some za'atar blends include salt. If yours does, adjust seasonings accordingly.

The great "dried versus canned bean" war should be fought another day, but for making purées I use dried whenever possible. Not only do they taste more bean-y, but they produce a starchy and flavorful broth useful not just for this spread but for making soup or cooking greens.

What should you do with all this spread? Besides the obvious chips 'n' dip, try it spread on a crusty roll with some arugula, thin slices of ripe tomato, and some sprouts. Too health-food-esque? It performs equally well on a hoagie-style roll cradling a fiery, fatty merguez sausage.

About the author: Max Falkowitz is a proud native of Queens, New York. He'll do just about anything for a good cup of tea and enjoys long walks down the aisles of Chinese groceries.

Ingredients

• 1 pound (2 cups) of small dried cannelini or Great Northern beans, soaked overnight
• 6 cloves of garlic, peeled and smashed
• 3/4 cup of extra virgin olive oil
• 2 tablespoons of za’atar
• Zest of two lemons
• Juice of 1 1/2 lemons
• 1/4 teaspoon of sugar, if needed

Procedures

1. Bring your beans and the garlic to a boil in a large, heavy pot for a couple minutes, then reduce to a simmer. Half-cover the pot and let the beans cook till very tender. Add salt to taste and let them cool in the pot. If you don’t have time for dried beans, two 15 oz. cans of beans are also fine.

2. Set aside 1/2 cup of the cooking liquid (save the rest for another use) and transfer the beans to a food processor and purée. Through the feed tube, slowly pour in the reserved cooking liquid and the olive oil. If using canned beans, use more olive oil, stock, or water.

3. Add the za’atar, lemon zest, and lemon juice, then pulse a few times to combine. Tinker with the salt, acid, and za’atar if needed. If the spread feels like it’s lacking a certain depth of flavor, that tiny pinch of sugar can go a long way.

4. Transfer the spread to a bowl and sprinkle on some more za’tar and olive oil. Let the spread cool to room temperature before serving. If you want to save some for later, move it to a smaller container, cover it with a thin layer of olive oil, and store it in the freezer.

[Photograph: Robyn Lee]

Baba ghanoush is a late summer dream, a brilliant balance of flavor and texture. It's light but creamy, kissed by smoke, lemon, and garlic. Tahini gives it body and olive oil lends a fruity finish.

And once you get the technique down—which is really just roasting an eggplant to death—you can vary it however you like. This is my version, but different tastes prefer different balances. Taste frequently and make this your own. I've suggested some add-ins to heighten specific dimensions of baba ghanoush's complex flavor profile.

One thing that shouldn't change is the quality of the eggplant. Use whichever you like, though the common big purple alien pods work quite well. Though available year-round, eggplants are best in late summer and plentiful at farmers' markets. The best eggplants are heavy for their size with taut skin and verdant stems. You should be able to push into the flesh with your thumb, but it should spring back when released. Younger (smaller) eggplants have fewer to no seeds but also a little less flavor. Enormous ones are dry with more pronounced, bitter seeds. A medium-to-large eggplant is what I go with.

You may have been told to check the eggplant's "sex." Well, eggplants are berries. They don't have sexes. But eggplants with round, concave dimpled bottoms have fewer seeds and meatier flesh than those with little brown oval-shaped scars on the end.

This recipe is pretty heavy on the garlic, so you may want to cut down to two cloves if you don't like that raw bite. The flavor and consistency change over time—the lemon's acidity tones down and the dip firms up, requiring more olive oil to thin out. Change proportions accordingly if you're making it in advance. A half hour before serving, take it out of the refrigerator to soften and make any last-minute adjustments.

About the author: Max Falkowitz is a proud native of Queens, New York. He'll do just about anything for a good cup of tea and enjoys long walks down the aisles of Chinese groceries.

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lbs. of eggplant, either one large or two small
• 4 cloves of garlic, minced
• 2 tablespoons of tahini
• Juice of one or two lemons (see head note)
• 2 to 3 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil (see head note)
• 1 teaspoon of salt, or to taste

Procedures

1. Poke about six holes in your eggplant to let out steam. Any more than that and juices will start running out everywhere.

2. On a grill or a gas burner (skip to the next step if you have neither), let the eggplant sit directly on a high flame till each side is blackened and charred, about 10 minutes total. When the exterior feels tender and the eggplant looks like it's starting to collapse in on itself, take it off the heat.
   

3. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil and remove the eggplant's stem. Put the sheet under your broiler, close to the heat source, and broil till the eggplant is very soft, another 20 minutes or so. Rotate it every five minutes to ensure even cooking. About halfway through, remove it from the broiler and peel away some of the skin with tongs or a fork. It should come off easily. Cut the eggplant into a few large pieces to expose the interior to direct heat. Return it to the broiler and let it roast for about another 10 minutes. You could do this all on the stove or grill, but this step has two advantages. First, it's neater—you won't get eggplant juices all over your cooktop. Second, direct exposure of the flesh to the heat heightens the dip's smokey flavor.

4. When the eggplant's given all it can give, let it cool down for a few minutes, then peel away any remaining skin. Purée in a food processor with the garlic, tahini, and half the lemon juice.

5. While pulsing the food processor, add salt and olive oil incrementally. Taste for additional salt or lemon juice. The dip will thicken slightly as it cools and even more in the refrigerator, so add some compensatory olive oil if it's a little thick or dry. Transfer to a bowl or container. Baba Ghanoush is best served a little warm or at room temperature.

6. Add-ins

7. For more smokiness, add a small pinch of pimentón or pasilla chile.

8. For more sweetness and body, try a drizzle of honey or pomegranate molasses, or some roasted garlic.

9. For some textural variation, stir in some toasted pine nuts or pistachios. Or some finely chopped tomatoes, olives, or red onions.

10. For an herbal or floral dimension, parsley or cilantro make an excellent garnish. A few drops of rose water would be an unexpected aromatic. Or try a tiny bit of lime or orange zest (perhaps by use of a flavored oil).