Food Processor

Like pasta itself, tomato sauces for pasta come in endless varieties. This one gets a depth of flavor from vegetable pestata and good bacon. The recipe makes enough sauce to dress two batches of pasta. Use half on fresh strangozzi, and pack up half for a future meal: it will keep in the freezer for 4 to 6 weeks and will be wonderful on any pasta you choose.

Here’s my version of our family’s favorite Umbrian road food: the torta al testo (or crescia) baked and served at Il Panaro, the outdoor eatery and truck stop near Gubbio (see this chapter’s introduction). The unique wood-oven-baked character of the Il Panaro torta is hard to replicate in the home kitchen, yet I’ve found that baking the breads in a cast-iron skillet gives very nice results. The dough is easy to mix and shape, so even if you’re a bread-baking novice you’ll have success with this one.

You don’t need complicated dishes to enjoy the wonderful flavor and aroma of black truffle—bread and butter will do, as this easy recipe proves. Fresh black truffle, if available, always makes great truffle butter. And fresh Norcino truffle, the Umbrian variety plentiful in season around the city of Norcia, considered the finest black truffle in Italy, makes the very best butter. Fresh is always better, but you can use a good-quality jarred Umbrian black truffle. Black truffle from other countries like France is good as well. It’s sold by many specialty-food stores and Internet vendors, at a range of prices.

Every region in Italy cooks rabbit, and I love it—it is tasty, healthy, and low in fat. So in every one of my books I include a rabbit recipe. Though a whole cut-up rabbit is traditional, I recommend rabbit legs for this delicious braise. They are worth looking for—easier to handle, more moist when cooked, and yielding a good portion of meat versus bones. (If you can’t find legs, a whole rabbit, cut in serving pieces, will work fine in this recipe.) Should you have any leftovers, do what I do: shred the meat off the bones back into the sauce, and freeze. It will be a great dressing for pasta when you are late and tired and want a quick, delicious meal.

This uncooked dressing, enriched with ricotta and butter, is delicious and quite different from the herb-based pestos I’ve found in other regions. You can blend it together in a bowl while the pasta water is heating up and have a distinctive pasta appetizer or main course in minutes. To retain its vibrant, fresh flavors, it is important not to cook the pesto, just toss it with the tagliatelle and serve.

In addition to tagliatelle, use this rich pasta dough to make all the forms of filled pasta from Emilia-Romagna—anolini, cappellacci, tortelli, and tortellini—that I detail later in the chapter.

In a traditional Ragù alla Bolognese (page 382), the ground meats are slowly cooked with tomatoes and red wine and stock, developing a velvety texture and deep, rich flavor. This “white” ragù streamlines the process and omits most of the tomato, producing a lighter and more delicate sauce with much of the complexity of the classic Bolognese. (And if you want to make it even lighter, you might use ground rabbit meat or turkey or chicken in place of the chopped beef.) Typically used to dress fresh tagliatelle, ragù di carni bianche is also delicious as a sauce for other pastas, lasagna, polenta, and gnocchi. This recipe makes enough sauce to dress two batches of my fresh tagliatelle; use half the sauce for one dinner, and freeze the rest for a great meal to come.

Sugo is a word that means “sauce,” or sometimes “juice,” but here it tells only part of the story. Sugo alla Genovese is a traditional braised-meat dish that gives you a big pot filled with both a tender, succulent beef roast and a rich, meaty tomato sauce. Like others of my favorite braises (such as Braised Leg of Lamb in the Abruzzo chapter, page 258), it yields a bounty of sauce, enough to dress pasta as a first course and to serve as gravy on the sliced meat for a main course. What makes this sugo distinctively alla Genovese is an unusual step in the procedure. After you have caramelized the aromatic vegetables and herbs and browned the meat, you begin building the sauce with red wine. Then you set the meat aside and purée the seasonings with pine nuts to create a complex thickened base for the sauce, reminiscent of pesto alla Genovese. This then goes back in the pan, and everything cooks together slowly for hours, resulting in a sugo that is absolutely delicious and certainly unique.

When I say the word “pesto” to people in America (or anywhere outside Italy), I know they are thinking of pesto alla Genovese, with its lush green color and intense perfume of fresh basil leaves. Indeed, though there are countless fresh sauces that are also termed “pesto” in Italian cuisine (see box, page 105), it seems that pasta with basil-and-pine-nut pesto is so well known that it might as well be the national Italian dish! Traditionally, long, flat trenette or shorter twisted trofie is the pasta used here, though even spaghetti is great with the pesto. For the most authentic flavor, use a sweet, small-leaved Genovese basil for the pesto—perhaps you can find it at a farmers’ market in summer, or grow it yourself. Large basil will be delicious, too. Of course, use the best extra-virgin olive oil available, in the pesto and on the pasta, preferably pressed from the marvelous taggiasca olives of Liguria.

This soup exemplifies the Ligurian love of vegetables, which is one of the things I love most about that cuisine. It demonstrates that with vegetables alone—there’s no meat or meat stock in it—you can cook immensely flavorful and satisfying dishes. This is my re-creation of the heavenly vegetable soup served by my cousin Lidia Bosazzi when my parents took my brother Franco and me to Genova before we immigrated to America. With more kinds of vegetables than I could count—and that aroma of pungent garlic, which I have never forgotten—this is one of the most satisfying soups I know. More than most dishes, soups accommodate variation and improvisation, and, as usual, I encourage you to experiment with this recipe. You don’t need every vegetable in the exact amount listed for the zuppa—use what you have or like. And even the all-important garlic can be reduced (or increased) according to your family’s taste. A substitution or addition that I recommend, in fact, is to use all the aromatic onion-family members that come in springtime—fresh spring onions and spring garlic with green shoots, scallions, baby leeks. They make every soup better. At home I make this in large quantities, and that is how I share it with you. With all the work of washing and chopping vegetables, I like to have plenty of soup to enjoy right away and a couple of quarts in the freezer for a future meal. You can cut the recipe in half if you like, but I believe you go through your days feeling better when there’s a delicious soup stored at home, ready to be enjoyed and to sustain you.

The traditional Ligurian bread salad condiggion was the highlight of the meal we had in the Cinque Terre a few years ago (as I mentioned in the introduction to this chapter). With many textures from crunchy vegetables, vinegar-soaked bread, and tangy greens, and layers of flavor in the basil and olive-oil dressing—and a shower of dried tuna roe, bottarga, providing a touch of salt and sea—this has become one of my favorite summer salads. It is exceptionally flavorful and refreshing, and a great accompaniment to the grilled meat and fish that I prepare in summer. This salad is also open to variation, so use your favorite greens, vegetables, and even bread. I find that curly chicory, green and bitter, makes the best salad, but you can play with other seasonal greens you find in the market. And if you have some day-old whole-wheat or multigrain bread, that could be delicious here, too. Just make sure it is dry enough to be revitalized by the vinegar and dressing (if too fresh, it will crumble into mush at the bottom of the bowl). In Liguria, where bottarga is a common flavoring element, it is essential to the salad. If you have some, by all means use it (and keep it wrapped well and frozen for long storage). Otherwise, chopped anchovies are a good final addition to the salad, if you yearn for that salty fish flavor, as I do.

This is a generously proportioned version of the delicious rice-and-zucchini crostata, or tart, that my cousin Lidia prepared when our family first visited Genova, nearly fifty years ago. She made hers in a small baking pan, and mine is the same, only bigger! I use a half-sheet baking pan (a jelly-roll pan will work, too) lined with the olive-oil-based dough that has no leavening, is easy to make, and fantastic to roll. The large size of this crostata is necessary, I find, because the crostata disappears right away. Whether I put it on a buffet in bite-sized party pieces, bring it to a picnic, or serve it as a plated appetizer or main course with salad, everyone loves it—and has to have another piece. And in the unlikely event you do have leftovers, they can be frozen and reheated—just as good as when freshly baked. The procedure is straightforward and quick, though there’s one important (and interesting) step you must leave time for: steeping the uncooked rice with the shredded zucchini. Since squash is a watery vegetable and rice is dry and starchy, this steeping allows the rice to extract most of the vegetal water from the zucchini. In this way, the grain is softened enough to cook during the baking time, and without absorbing all the liquid from the ricotta and milk. The result is a moist, creamy, and flavorful filling.

Make this dish once and you will make it over and over. Everything about it is good. It requires only one big pan, and that one will contain a complete supper of meat, potatoes, and vegetable for at least eight and likely a dozen people. Best of all, everybody loves every bit that comes out of the pan. Socca, as this is called in Valle d’Aosta, is exactly what the English recipe name says: a big casserole with layers of sliced beef, sliced potatoes, and shredded cabbage (all nicely seasoned). It bakes for several hours, until all the layers are fork-tender, then it’s covered with a final layer of fontina, which bakes into an irresistibly crusty cheese topping. (Though it is unlikely you will have much left over, the dish will keep well for several days in the refrigerator; reheat it either on top of the stove or in the oven.) In Valle d’Aosta, the meat of choice in socca is beef or game; in my recipe, it’s a top-blade roast from the beef chuck (or shoulder). Since I am sure you will make this again, I suggest you try it with slices of pork shoulder (the butt roast) or lamb shoulder or lamb leg. These meats will be delicious in the casserole, too.

This traditional almond cake is named for the historic city of Mantova (perhaps better known to most English speakers as Mantua, the city to which Romeo is exiled in Romeo and Juliet). The torta is equally delightful for dessert and for breakfast. In the evening, I like to serve it with poached fruit—prunes poached in rum are perfect—and a dollop of whipped cream. Of course, I make sure there’s some left over, so I can enjoy it again in the morning, with my caffè. And since it’s quite moist and keeps well, it will be good the following morning, too (excellent incentive to cut small slices and make it last!). On a more serious culinary note, I want to emphasize the importance of using a fine almond extract in this cake. Indeed, all desserts and dishes that call for fruit, nut, or spice extracts are immeasurably better when you use a top-quality extract rather than a supermarket brand (and never use an imitation flavor). The slightly greater expense of a premium extract is always worthwhile and will pay you back in the flavor of your creations.

Fagottini di pollo means “little chicken bundles”—and that’s what these are. Boneless chicken thighs are slightly flattened, wrapped around a savory vegetable pestata, and kept in shape with a strip of bacon and a toothpick. They’re braised in a big skillet, and finally topped with cheese and baked briefly, to get a crisp gratinato topping. You will love fagottini di pollo, I am sure! You will also see why these make a great party dish, since they’re convenient for a buffet. You can braise them largely in advance—in fact, the flavor improves with resting. Then set them on baking pans, sauced and topped with grated cheese; refrigerate if necessary. When you are ready to serve, simply put the pan in the hot oven to heat them and create the crunchy gratinato effect. Be flexible forming your bundles, since chickens vary in size greatly. If the thighs are small, make more bundles per serving and adjust the stuffing amount and the cooking time accordingly. What to serve with fagottini di pollo? Since they have such a nice sauce, I recommend polenta, Riso alla Lombarda (page 43), Riso e Salvia (page 42), or just plain mashed potatoes.

This venerable Lombard specialty belies its literal name. Pitocchi (taken from the Greek word for “poor”) were beggars who roamed the Padana lowlands during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries seeking sustenance; presumably a plain rice dish was what they got. Though simple to prepare, today’s riso alla pitocca is far from meager. Quite the contrary, it is rich in flavor from the pestata base and loaded with succulent chicken chunks.

In autumn, Lombardy abounds in zucca—what we call “winter squash”—and the seasonal cuisine makes full use of the vegetable. Squashes of all sizes and shapes are in the market—favorite varieties like marina di chioggia, berettina piacentina, zucca tonda padana, zucca blu, and zucca delica—to be cooked in stuffings, soups, pasta sauces, and risotto. And, like many fruits and vegetables, zucca is pickled with mustard seed to make the delicious condiment called mostarda, for which Lombardy—especially Cremona—is famous. This riso will be delicious made with any of our squashes—try acorn, buttercup, delicata, hubbard, or kabocha as well as butternut. The fresh vegetables of other seasons can be used, too, following the basic technique of the recipe. Asparagus in springtime or broccoli in summer will be delicious cooked with rice.

Lentils and rice are one of my favorite combinations. I fondly recall savoring a dish just like this often as a child; it was comforting and nurturing. It can be enjoyed in many ways: make it dense like risotto or add more liquid to make it soupy. Just rice and lentils are delicious and simple, but you could easily add a few sausages or pork ribs to the pot to make quite a festive main dish.