Make Ahead

Every region of Italy has its own version of biscotti, and these plain and simple twice-baked cookies from Calabria are great for the home baker. They are tasty and crumbly, and I like the accent of the toasted sliced almonds. When you cut the logs of dough after the first baking, you’ll likely have crumbs and some broken pieces, but don’t throw them away. Save them to sprinkle over ice cream or poached fruit, or to fold into a zabaglione—they add crunch and a sweet taste to all kinds of desserts.

Just a small amount of saffron can imbue extra-virgin olive oil with the spice’s captivating perfume and distinctive flavor. This versatile condiment is a great way to bring a light and seductive touch of saffron to your dishes, without overwhelming them. It makes a delicious (and colorful) dressing for maccheroni alla chitarra (page 236) or other pasta, or to season almost any mild-flavored dish.

This recipe actually gives you two flavorful sauces, to use as a dressing for pasta or to give a fresh accent to all sorts of dishes, from steamed vegetables to roasted meats. The basic sauce is a simple, loose parsley pesto, quite good and easily whipped up any time of year. In summer, I cut ripe, sweet tomatoes into small pieces and mix them into the pesto. The juices and flesh of the tomatoes merge with the parsley sauce, creating a new dressing with multiple dimensions of flavor and texture.

This distinctively flavored pesto is a superb dressing for maccheroni alla chitarra (page 236), spaghetti, or linguine, or a short dry pasta such as gemelli, lumache, or rigatoni. It’s a great condiment, too: put a spoonful on fish or chicken hot off the grill for a real treat. Make extra pesto when basil and parsley are plentiful, in summer, and freeze it in small containers to use through the winter.

The dough for maccheroni alla chitarra has to be slightly firmer than usual for fresh pasta; it requires a bit more flour, so it will cut neatly when pressed against the chitarra. If you have a kitchen scale, weighing the flour is best: start with 10 ounces of flour, equivalent to 2 cups of unsifted flour, slightly packed, and add more as needed. Though I always tell you that you can make fresh pasta dough by hand (because it is so easy!), here I recommend the food-processor method, to incorporate the greater amount of flour quickly.

You roll up this rocciata, a thin pastry with a fruit-and-nut filling, just as you do a strudel—but you don’t bake it like a strudel. Instead, you slice the roll into thin rounds, lay them flat, and bake them into two dozen rich and beautiful spiral cookies. In this version, I macerate dried fruit overnight in vin santo, one of my favorite sweet wines. There’s always a bit of fruity wine left over, and I cook it into a delicious syrup to drizzle over the cookies. Delicious when dunked in a good espresso, and even better when dunked in grappa, these cookies are nice to have around, as well as to give as gifts at the holidays. And I make them after the holidays, too, since they’re such a brilliant way to use up all the dried fruit and nuts I have left over from the festivities.

Tortelli are filled pasta squares, like ravioli. These are the largest of the pasta shapes in this chapter—you need only eight to ten pieces per serving—and the simplest to make, too, since they need no twisting. Here I give you two savory tortelli fillings that I discovered in Emilia-Romagna. The techniques for making tortelli are the same for this cabbage-and-pancetta filling and for the chard-ricotta filling that follows (page 153). (You can also make tortelli with the fillings I give you for anolini, tortellini, and cappellacci.) As I often say, homemade pasta is so good that you need nothing more than butter (or extravirgin olive oil) and cheese to dress it. So, in the master recipe, I dress the cabbage-filled tortelli with just melted butter (as is customary in the north of Italy)—I would do the same with the chard-filled tortelli. You could also dress them with a light tomato sauce, such as the Romagnola (page 140) or my Marinara Sauce (page 384). And if you are making a meat roast or roast chicken for the same meal, the juices and drippings from the roasting pan would make a splendid dressing for your tortelli.

Celery is plentiful and a wonderful vegetable, yet I see it mostly used in making stocks or salads. This way of braising celery is easy and flavorful, and makes a grand side dish for grilled fish or chicken. It can be cooked in advance and reheated when your guests come—or serve it at room temperature as an appetizer. I’ve also discovered that any leftovers make a very good chutney: chop coarsely and spread on a sandwich of cold cuts or cheese. Fantastic!

Tortellini are probably the best-known and most popular of the many forms of filled pasta for which Emilia-Romagna is famous. Although they are made all over the region, tortellini are the special pride of Bologna, where, according to food historians, they were first created centuries ago. When I visited the great artisanal pasta-makers Renata Venturi and her daughters, Daniela and Monica, whom I mentioned in the introduction to this chapter, they showed me their techniques of hand-rolling and shaping tortellini in their marvelous pasta shop, Le Sfogline. Though tortellini are sold (usually frozen) in most markets in the United States, the recipe here will give you a big batch of fresh homemade tortellini, far superior to anything you can buy at the store. And you will see how easy and enjoyable the shaping is, especially the final twist that gives each piece its distinctive shape. Although meat-filled tortellini might come to mind first, I love this ricotta version, dressed with a simple tomato sauce, such as my Marinara Sauce (page 384). A more complex sauce, such as Ragù alla Bolognese (page 382) or mushroom guazzetto, would also be delicious, as would a simple dressing of sage and butter. (If you want to try other pasta shapes than tortellini, you can make tortelli or tortellacci with this ricotta-fontina filling.)

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.

You will find many ways to please your guests with this simple dish. The juicy, glazed onions are delicious as an hors d’oeuvre to be passed around, tossed in a salad, or served as a side dish with meats and fish. Here, I use balsamic vinegar to give the glazing syrup lots of flavor and a lovely caramel color, but you could use good wine vinegar as well. In which case, use just half the vinegar called for, and 1 teaspoon of honey. These onions are wonderful served warm from the pan or at room temperature and make a great house gift, packed in a nice jar with a label tied around the neck. They will keep in the refrigerator for a week or two and freeze well, too.

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.

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.

The marvelous melting qualities of authentic fontina are particularly evident in baked pasta dishes such as this delicious pasticcio. When it is in the oven with penne (or other tubular or concave pastas, like ziti, rigatoni, or shells), the molten cheese oozes around each piece of pasta and is caught in all of its nooks and crannies. The cheese on top of the pasticcio melts and then becomes crusty and caramelized.