Vegetable

Vegetable stock is an essential ingredient in many vegetarian soups, but it also provides incomparable flavor to many well-loved vegetable (but not necessarily meat-free) soups such as this one. Minestrone has become so familiar in the American kitchen that it might be easy to forget its Italian origins. But the name—minestre is the word for soup, while the suffix (-one) indicates bigness—hints at its universal appeal as a simple pantry-based soup that is also hearty and substantial. The foundation of flavor, called a soffritto, is a common element in soup-making: a trio of celery, carrots, and onion is sautéed first, then stock and more vegetables are added and slowly simmered to coax out their flavors. Beans are what distinguish minestrone from other vegetable soups; the type varies by region, as does the addition (if any) of pasta or rice (this version has neither). The beans are also what give the soup such heft, making it a good option for a meatless one-pot dish (if you leave out the prosciutto) that can stand as the centerpiece of any casual dinner. The beans need to soak overnight in the refrigerator, so plan accordingly. Then they need to boil for at least a half hour, so use that time to prepare the rest of the ingredients for the soffritto and soup.

The most well-known pea soups are made with green split peas and flavored with pork, but this lively vegetarian version features split peas and Indian seasonings. Though the end result tastes remarkably different from the classic, the method for making any split pea soup is virtually the same; you start by building a flavor base with sautéed aromatics, then add peas and water and cook until the peas fall apart. For split pea soup with ham, you would add a ham hock to the pot along with the peas, but for this version, spices are fried at the end and stirred into the soup to finish—a technique borrowed from many classic Indian dishes.

For true vegetarian soups, stews, and other dishes (such as risotto), vegetable stock is a flavorful alternative to water and meat-based stocks. Some recipes call for the vegetables in the mirepoix to be added to the simmering liquid without first cooking; others call for them to be sweated first, without browning. In this recipe, the vegetables are lightly browned to give the stock intense flavor. The resulting richness and complexity are particularly important when there is no base of flavor provided by chicken, beef, or fish. You can vary the flavor by increasing the amount of garlic, replacing the carrots with parsnips, or changing some of the fresh herbs for others. Or add any of the following: dried mushrooms, such as porcini or shiitake (no more than two or three, since they can be overpowering), a few corncobs, some chopped tomato (seeded, if desired), or thinly sliced leeks. If the stock will be used to make Italian dishes, add a rind of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese once the water has been added. If making a vegetarian dish with other vegetables, use the scraps to flavor the stock, such as beet greens for beet risotto. But be careful to avoid adding anything that is less than fresh or that has too strong a flavor, such as most cruciferous vegetables (including broccoli, cauliflower, and cabbage).

Fumet is a white stock made from fish bones and aromatic vegetables, which are first “sweated” (cooked until soft but not taking on any color), then simmered in water. That initial step is a crucial building block, eliciting a touch of sweetness from the leek and developing the flavors for the next step, though it will produce a stock with less clarity than when the aromatics are simply brought to a boil with the rest. (To achieve that result, follow recipe for Basic Chicken Stock on page 41, bringing the fish bones and heads to a boil, then adding vegetables, bay leaf, and peppercorns and simmering 30 minutes before straining.) With its concentrated flavor, fumet is ideal for making fish soups and stews, or for steaming shellfish, such as the Clams in Herbed Broth on page 219. Like other stocks, fumet can be altered for different effects. Increase the ratio of bones to water and you will have a stock with more pronounced fish flavor. For a Mediterranean-style stock, chopped garlic and fennel (and its fronds) can be sweated with the other aromatics, then crushed tomatoes, crumbled saffron, and a few parsley stems added and simmered in the pot along with everything else.

One of the best reasons to make your own basic brown stock is that it means French onion soup from scratch is within easy reach. (You can also make the soup with white beef stock, page 42.) Like many other bistro classics, French onion soup has humble origins as a staple of thrifty households, where a pot of stock—itself born of frugality—was the foundation for many family meals. Even those with limited resources could make soupe a l’oignon since it calls for little else: pounds of inexpensive and readily available onions, a crusty baguette (providing a way to use up day-old bread), and a chunk of sharp Gruyère cheese, grated to turn a little into a lot. Because there are so few components, each one is enhanced in some way to contribute to the final dish. The homemade stock provides both color and robust taste, as well as ensuring a silky consistency. Caramelizing the onions gives them a wonderful sweetness (and more dark brown color). Toasted bread adds a textural note, while gratinéed cheese introduces another pleasing component. Similar to the burnt-sugar shell atop crème brûlée, the molten, golden crown invites tucking into with a spoon. This recipe can be halved, but since the soup freezes well, it is worth making the full amount.

Brown stock gets its color—and its flavor—from the initial step of roasting bones and vegetables, often with a bit of tomato paste added to promote browning and impart a caramelized flavor, as well as a touch of acidity. After the contents of the pan are transferred to a stockpot, the pan is deglazed (either with water or red wine) to incorporate all the flavorful browned bits, which then, too, get added to the pot. In classical French cooking, brown stock is made with veal bones to produce a delicate-bodied soup. In the recipe that follows, beef is added for deeper flavor, but you can replace the beef with more veal bones (or veal stew meat) for the traditional version. Brown stock can also be made with chicken (see variation); this would be ideal for using in more robust dishes, such as braised meats. Heed the general rules for making all stocks, including simmering very gently, skimming frequently, and keeping enough liquid in the pot so that everything is submerged at all times. Brown stock is also the basis for other classic preparations, including demi glace and glace de viande (see page 52).

Unlike other chicken soups that begin with water, this Mexican version starts with chicken stock; the resulting broth is richer and more complex than for basic chicken soup (page 43), since stock will impart flavor to (and be fortified by) the chicken. To make the soup, a whole chicken is simmered in chicken stock, which is then strained and combined with a fiery puree of dried chiles, charred tomatoes, and sautéed onion and garlic. Before being pureed, the chiles are toasted in a dry skillet to enhance their smokiness, then soaked in water to soften, a process that is widely used in Mexican cooking as a building block for many types of dishes (this is comparable to the way spices are toasted in Indian cooking as a flavor-building component for masalas and curry pastes). What distinguishes tortilla soup is the way it is served, since the garnishes are essential to the overall flavor; plus, they are incorporated at the table—not in the kitchen—so that each guest has a hand in creating and customizing the final dish. The garnishes suggested below are traditional and offer a nice balance of taste and texture, but sliced jalapeños (seeded for less heat) or radishes, diced fresh tomatoes, or other types of cheese (such as queso fresco or queso blanco) are also authentic, as is a dollop of crema (Mexican sour cream) or sour cream.

If soup-making is an indication of a cook’s talents, chicken soup is the truest test, since the soup should ideally offer warmth and nourishment as well as flavor. It is, after all, the ultimate comfort food. Once you’ve committed this basic soup technique to memory, the possibilities for variations—and other meals—are limitless. Making the soup is essentially a form of poaching chicken in an aromatic broth. The chicken should always be just covered with liquid—in this case, water—which should remain at a gentle simmer. Skimming the surface is critical to the soup’s success, since the impurities from the chicken would cause the broth to become cloudy. Straining out the aromatics will also help produce a cleaner broth; the vegetables will have become very soft and lost much of their individual flavors by this time, so it is necessary to replenish them with “garnish” vegetables, added at the end. The variations below provide flavorful alternatives to the basic soup recipe—one with matzo balls and the other with springtime vegetables, including green beans, peas, and watercress.

We pickle Fresno chiles (also called red jalapeño peppers) for the pasta dish Fiorentini with Guanciale, Tomato, and Spicy Pickled Peppers (page 203). It seemed silly to have you pickle just enough peppers for one dish, since they will keep, refrigerated, for at least several weeks and probably much longer. Slice the peppers and add them to grilled cheese or sliced meat sandwiches, or use them in place of the roasted peppers on the pizza with White Anchovy, Tomato, and Spicy Fresno Chiles (page 139) or the Spicy Salami, Mozzarella, and Fresno Chiles pizza (page 140). If you can wait, the peppers are even better a few days after you make them.

The first lesson in stock making is also the simplest: everything (bones and aromatics) is covered in a pot with water and gently simmered, yielding a stock with a pure, clean flavor. This technique can be applied to making stock with chicken, meat, fish, or only vegetables. Of these, no stock is more versatile and flexible than white chicken stock, which is flavorful but not overpowering, lending itself to a vast array of uses: white sauces, such as velouté; any number of soups (it is the default choice for many); and many stews and braises, among other dishes where there are layers of flavor (think risotto). White beef stock is equally classic, and a better option in dishes such as Wine-Braised Short Ribs (page 188). For this stock, there are several ways to alter the outcome, depending on how it will be used. The longer the stock simmers, the stronger it will taste. Simmer for 1 1/2 hours for vegetable soups or other delicate dishes (including white sauces), longer for more robust sauces and soups. To give the stock a more pronounced chicken flavor, add 1 1/2 pounds chicken thighs along with the other parts (take them out of the pot as soon as they are done if you plan to reserve the meat for another purpose, returning bones to pot after removing meat).

In the Pizzeria kitchen we refer to this as the “breakfast pizza” because of the traditional combination. We don’t cut through the egg because the whole egg looks pretty in the center of the pizza when we bring it to the table. And that way our customers can have the thrill of breaking the yolk themselves.

This is a wonderful example of a vegetarian dish that isn’t at all compromised by its lack of meat. We scatter artichoke leaves over the surface of the pizza so you get the flavor of artichoke in every bite. The mild flavor of the stracchino contrasts nicely with the bitterness of the artichokes.

Years ago I discovered a little place in San Francisco that made the most delicious green onion focaccia that I loved and never forgot. When the Pizzeria was conceived, I knew I wanted to offer one with green onions in memory of that one. In trying to invent my green onion pizza, I remembered my days at Spago, where they made a goat cheese and red pepper pizza that was really popular. Goat cheese and bacon is a great combination, as is goat cheese and browned garlic. And then there were those green onions . . . That mishmash of inspirations is how this pizza came to be. The garlic is the same that we use in the Olives al Forno (page 37). While you’re at it, you might want to make enough for both, since the olives would be a great accompaniment to a pizza party.

It’s very traditional to use ortiche, or “nettles,” to make green pasta such as this one. Despite the fact that they are often called “stinging nettles,” they don’t really sting, but they do have a bristly texture that can irritate your skin. If you wash them first, they won’t bother you as you pick the leaves off the stems. Another solution is to wear thin rubber gloves. If you can’t find nettles, spinach is an acceptable substitute. In either case, the greens have so much water in them (no matter how much you try to squeeze it all out) that we use very few eggs in this dough.

If we were one of those pizzerias that give wacky names to each pie, this mixed mushroom pizza would be called “The Vegas Guys,” or “Peter’s Pizza.” Our editor, Peter Gethers, has a group of guys he goes to Las Vegas with every year for some sort of guy reunion weekend. They meet in Los Angeles and the tradition is that they choose a different restaurant to eat dinner in the night before they leave for Vegas. I’m flattered that for the last few years, they’ve quit chowing around and held their dinner consistently in the private dining room in the Pizzeria, called the Jack Warner Room. They were particularly excited about this pizza. It’s a pretty straightforward mushroom pie, but the fact that we roast the mushrooms before adding them to the pizza, and the combination of taleggio and fontina cheeses that top it, make it especially flavorful.

Long-cooked broccoli is one of my all-time favorite vegetable preparations, so I had to find a way to work it onto a pizza. Normally I don’t like broccoli on pizza because whenever I’ve seen it, it’s just been dropped onto the pizza raw, and often with a whole mix of other uncooked vegetables that don’t go with each other or with pizza. Here, the broccoli is cooked until it has a buttery texture, so it works with the crust instead of just sitting on top of it. We use a mix of mozzarella and caciocavallo cheese, a Sicilian cheese similar to mozzarella that has been dried and aged for a few weeks, so it has a funky aged flavor that goes well with the broccoli. If you can’t find caciocavallo cheese, look for scamorza, or use all mozzarella in its place.

This is my number-one favorite Pizzeria Mozza pizza, and it’s a direct rip-off of the Norcia pizza they serve at Pellicano. Sausage and panna, or cream, is a classic combination in Umbria. The summer I discovered this pizza I ordered it every time I went to Pellicano, in an effort to figure out what was in the white sauce that was smeared on the crust. When I asked, they told me “panna.” I knew panna was cream, but I couldn’t understand how they could put cream on pizza. Finally, I went back to the kitchen to see for myself, and what I saw was that the cream had been whipped, making it spreadable. Whipping cream for a pizza was such a foreign idea to me that when I started playing with pizzas for the restaurant, I tried to avoid it. I made this pizza with crème fraîche and later with mascarpone—anything not to put whipped cream on a pizza—but the whipped cream was definitely the best.

This was one of the original ten pizzas we served at the Pizzeria. I knew I wanted to offer a potato pizza, and I love the combination of potatoes and Gorgonzola.

No matter how creative we like to be with our pizzas, we also have a big place in our hearts for the classics such as this—essentially a pepperoni pizza with roasted chiles added for extra kick.

When people talk about good gnocchi, you always hear about how “light” they are, but I find that just because gnocchi are light doesn’t mean they’re good. More often than not, gnocchi taste and feel to me like boiled mashed potatoes or mushy dumplings. It wasn’t until I had good gnocchi, which, in addition to being light, had some texture and springiness to them, that I realized how good they could be. Matt worked really hard to ensure that our gnocchi had those qualities. This dough is very starchy and sensitive, so the gnocchi must be formed and served the same day the dough is made. You must use russet potatoes.