Green mango (or papaya) salad is addictive. It hits all those sweet, tangy and fresh notes that wake up your palate at the beginning of a meal, or refresh it after a bite of spicy curry. My wife and I have been known to narrow down our selection of Vietnamese restaurants purely based on the quality of their mango salad, and to use the leftover dressing to flavor our bun when the house sauce isn't vegetarian.

This salad works best with slightly underripe mangos. You want them to be firm, but not rock hard. The easiest way to cut them is with a mandoline, and it makes for neater presentation. You can do it with a knife too, it just takes a little more time.

I've experimented with different ways to make the dressing without fish sauce. Often a little soy sauce works as an umami-rich substitute, but in this case I like a bit of Chinese sesame oil instead. Not traditional but I think it works very well. I like the dressing to be rather sweet. You should adjust it to balance the particular mangos you are working with.

Vietnamese Green Mango Salad
Vegetarian, vegan, and gluten-free
Serves 4

• 1/3 cup lime juice
• 4 tablespoons palm sugar or half white sugar, half light brown
• 2 teaspoons grated fresh ginger
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
• 2 underripe mangos cut into medium batons (see photo)
• 1/2 small red onion, cut into very thin rings and soaked briefly in cold water
• 1 small green chili (Thai bird, or if not handy, jalapeno or serrano can be fine too) (optional)
• 1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds
• 1 handful cilantro or mint leaves (or a mixture)

1. If using palm sugar, crush first in mortar and pestle. It may help to microwave a bit and/or moisten. Combine the lime juice, sugar, ginger, salt, and sesame oil. Shake well to dissolve the sugar. Taste and adjust the balance of flavors. It should be fairly sweet.
2. Just before serving, combine the dressing with the mango, red onion, green chili, most of the sesame seeds and most of the herbs.
3. Garnish with the remaining sesame seeds and herbs.

This is my skillet. Sure, I have lots of others pots - small saute pans, sauciers, stock pots, paella pans, a beloved Dutch oven, griddles, you name it. But this big cast iron skillet is the absolute workhorse in my kitchen. I've had it for at least 20 years, and I'd say it has been the central figure in thousands of meals.

This 12-inch skillet has pride of place in my kitchen. All of the other pots gets hung up, but this one lives on my stove, ready to leap into action when I am. I'm a big believer in mise-en-place, but there are also plenty of meals where the first thing I do is heat up the skillet, the second thing I do is break down some vegetables, and the third thing is figure out what the heck I'm making.

My cast iron skillet is versatile. It bakes pancakes or cornbread, sears tofu, makes incomparable home-fries, simmers refried beans, fries eggs or fritters, marries pasta to condiment, caramelizes onions, and a hundred other tasks.

Sure, my skillet has its flaws. Cast iron is heavy, for one thing. You can't toss vegetables in it, they have to be flipped with a spatula. And it has to be mostly scraped, then lightly washed with little or no soap and re-heated to dry. It loves to have a little hot-oil massage after a long day. (Me too.)

It doesn't really heat that evenly - kind of a rumor with cast iron, the truth is there are definite hot spots. I don't use it for tomato sauces or anything really acidic because supposedly they will darken - and it doesn't really feel like the right pan for that anyhow.

To some folks, it might not look purty enough. Uninitiated city slickers might think I'm going to fry them up some opossum. (And I will, as soon as someone invents soypossum.)

But in spite of the idiosyncracies, I love my skillet. It is every bit as non-stick as a coated pan, but without any unpleasant chemicals. You can use normal metal utensils in it, which makes me happy. I like silicone tools for some things, but not for turning food - the edges aren't thin enough to get underneath without mauling the product.

It gets really freaking hot, and holds heat for a long time. It doesn't cool down when I put food in it. It has a nice big surface that lets me get a seriously browned surface on a lot of food at once. (In case you missed the news: browned = flavor.)

Cast iron is seriously indestructible. There are no rivets or welds or coatings to fail. In the absolute worst case, every few years if something gets severely burned on, I might have to scrape it hard, use a little Kosher salt as an abrasive, and re-season it in the oven. Then it is good as new. I'll be able to pass this skillet on to one of my children, and hope they get as much pleasure in cooking with it as I do.

Most importantly, my skillet and I understand each other. I know without even thinking about it when my skillet is preheated, when it is crowded, whether a desired crust is developing or unwanted burning is incipient. That level of comfort and confidence is priceless to me. Whatever I make in that pan, I feel it has a leg up on being delicious.

So what about you? Do you have a favorite pot, knife or other utensil that feels like an extension of your body? That you really miss when you cook in another kitchen? That is your go-to guy when the going gets rough? Talk to me.

Bocoloes are little pan-fried cake of masa and mashed black beans, typically served as an antojito (appetizer). I learned about them from Diana Kennedy's magnificient My Mexico and thought that I could replace the pork filling with yams, increase the portion, and make an unusual and delicious vegetarian entree.

The cakes came out great; they fry up with a crispy exterior and somewhat creamy inside. If you have had an Indian dosa, which is made from a lentil batter, the crust is kind of like that. Both of my kids loved them too, which was a nice bonus. The older one now calls them "yummy cakes" and is lobbying for a repeat performance.

I served the bocoles with this refreshing jicama, radish and orange salad, and a spoonful of homemade pipian, a type of mole made with pumpkin seeds (pepitas).

Fresh masa is a delight to work with, much nicer than dough made from dry masa harina. Your best bet for finding it is to locate a place that makes fresh corn tortillas (a tortilleria). That should be easy in parts of the country that have large Mexican populations. In Seattle I've had luck at La Bendicion on Beacon Hill, if I ask a day in advance, or I hear you can get it at the The Mexican Grocery in Pike Place. If you don't have fresh masa, just buy masa harina flour and mix it according to the package directions for tortillas.

I also bought pre-made Ducal-brand refried black beans. If you don't have that, simply fry some onion and garlic with canned black beans and then thoroughly puree them with enough liquid to make a smooth paste.

Bocoles (Masa and Black Bean Cakes) with Spicy Yams
Serves 6 as an entree or 12 as an appetizer
Vegetarian, vegan if you omit the crema, and gluten-free

For the yam filling:

• 2 tablespoons oil
• 1 white onion, diced
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 medium yams, peeled and finely diced (see below)
• 2 or more jalapeno peppers, minced
• 1 teaspoon cumin powder
• salt

For the bocoles:

• 2 pounds (about 4 cups) masa or prepared masa harina, no wetter than necessary
• 2 cups refried black beans (Ducal brand is good or make your own)
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• salt
• oil for pan frying

For serving:

• shredded romaine lettuce hearts
• crema or sour cream
• salsa or jicama salad
• optional: mole or pipian sauce

1. The easiest way to cut the yams is to make strips using a mandoline and then use a knife to cut the strips into very small cubes. Heat the oil in a large skillet over a medium flame. Saute the onion and garlic for 1 minute. Add the yams, jalapeno and cumin and 1/2 teaspoon of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally until the yams are fully tender. Taste and adjust seasoning - they will likely need more salt. Feel free to make the filling spicier if that suits you.
2. Thoroughly mix the masa, refried beans, baking powder and 1 teaspoon salt. Taste and add more salt if needed. Heat 1/8" of oil in a large skillet over a medium flame. Make golf-ball sized balls of the dough and pat them between your hands into a pancake about 1/4" thick or so. Fry for about 3 or 4 minutes until brown on the outside and cooked but still soft on the inside. Diana Kennedy says 7 minutes per side but I found it didn't it take that long; try a tester and see what you like best.
3. Serve as soon as possible, on a bed of shredded lettuce, topped with a generous amount of the yam filling, and garnished with crema. Pass the salad or salsa and optional mole on the side.