Asian

The Japanese are renowned for their longevity. As of 2011, their average life expectancy was 82.3 years. (The United States came in fiftieth, at 78.4 years.) Researchers often credit their diet, and this soup is my way of cramming as much of their healthy cuisine into a bowl as possible. It's called Bento Box Soup because of the traditional Japanese take-out bento box lunch, which is full of compartments, each containing a tasty treat: fish or meat, rice, pickled or cooked veggies, and other goodies. The base is a miso broth; if you're not in the know about miso, it's a salty fermented soy product that aids digestion and improves immune function. In case white miso isn't available, use any mellow (light) miso. I kicked those healing properties up a notch by infusing green tea into the broth for an extra immune boost, then added shiitakes, spinach, kombu, scallions, and tamari.

Buddha's Delight is traditionally served on the first day of Chinese New Year, a practice stemming from an old Buddhist custom of spiritual cleansing. In fact, the recipe's Cantonese name is simply jai, meaning "vegetarian food." Some ingredients, such as lily buds and bean thread noodles, may require a special trip to a Chinese market.

Around the Chinese New Year, Chinatown bakeries fill up with tins of butter cookies, waiting to be given as gifts to relatives. Of course, they're still sold and eaten year-round, and once you have just one of these bite-size cookies, it's hard to stop. They're a tad less sweet than American cookies, but their rich butteriness makes them irresistible.

Lo mein is a noodle dish that often is confused with chow mein, and many Chinese restaurants further the confusion by using the two names interchangeably. The dishes are similar, both featuring noodles mixed with stir-fried meat and vegetables and a savory sauce. But whereas chow mein refers to parboiled and stir-fried noodles, lo mein refers to noodles that are fully cooked separately and quickly tossed with sauce in the wok. The roast pork in this recipe is char siu, the same gorgeous reddish-brown pork often displayed and sold in Chinatown shop windows. Instead of buying the pork ready-made, you can also roast your own at home. For the egg noodles, you can use any that are thin and round; spaghetti will also work.

A simple curry paste gives this northern Thai-inspired soup surprising depth of flavor.

Of all Chinese dumplings, wontons are the simplest to make, if you buy ready-made wrappers. They cook in minutes and have a delightfully slippery mouthfeel. In Sichuan, the source of this recipe, they are known as "folded arms" (chao shou). Some say this is because the raw dumplings look like the folded arms of a person sitting back in relaxation; others that it's because of the way they are wrapped, with one corner crossed over the other and the two pinched together. The basic wontons can be served in a host of different ways and this Chengdu version is one of my favorites, with its sumptuous, heart-warming sauce. Wonton skins can be bought fresh or frozen in most Chinese food shops; they should be very thin and supple. If you want to take the easiest option in wrapping the dumplings, you can simply fold them in half, on the diagonal, to make a triangle. Otherwise, wrap into classic "water caltrop" shape, as professional cooks and market vendors do across China. (The water caltrop is an exotic-looking aquatic nut with a pair of horns.) This recipe makes 15-20, enough for four as an appetizer, or two for lunch. If you use fresh ingredients and make more than you need, the surplus can be frozen and cooked straight from the freezer.

Peanut butter has a place on the dinner table. This recipe makes enough for two or three different meals.

If you forget to thaw the shrimp in the morning, set the bag in a large bowl filled with cold water. It will defrost in minutes. One cup of dry rice will yield 3 cups cooked; leftover rice, which is slightly dried out, makes the best stir-fries.

The first Chinese recipe I ever cooked was a version of this dish from Yan-Kit So's Classic Chinese Cookbook. Years later—and having eaten it countless times in the Sichuanese capital Chengdu—it remains one of my favorite fish dishes, and everyone else seems to love it too. The fish lies in a spectacular sauce, a deep rusty red in color, sumptuously spicy and aromatic with ginger and garlic. In Sichuan, they tend to make it with carp. Back home in London, I've made it with sea bass, whole trout and fillets and, more recently, with organic mirror carp. They all taste delicious. (As with many Sichuanese dishes, the soul of the recipe lies in the combination of flavors and you can be flexible about the main ingredient, which is one reason why Sichuanese cuisine travels so well.) I'm particularly happy that the recipe works so well with mirror carp, one of the most sustainable fish and ripe for revival in places such as Britain, where it has long fallen out of favor. You will probably find that the fish disintegrates slightly during cooking. Don't worry: you can arrange it neatly on the serving plate and pour the sauce over it. And when your guests taste it, if my experiences are anything to go by, they'll be so overcome with rapture that they won't care what it looks like.

Red-braised pork may be one of the most common of all Chinese dishes, but it is also one of the most glorious: a slow stew of belly pork with seasonings that may include sugar, soy sauce, Shaoxing wine, and spices.

This richly spiced one-pot meal is quick and easy enough for a weeknight.

Buy thinly sliced beef at Korean markets, or ask your butcher to cut it for you.

These udon noodles with chicken and scallions come together in under 30 minutes.