European

Whether the tomatoes are fresh or canned is a seasonal matter: in summer, choose fresh ones; in winter, use canned ones. Both make a delicious, rich sauce for braising meatballs. When using fresh tomatoes, I like to peel them and I don’t bother to seed them, but that is the cook’s choice, depending on time constraints and inclination. The herbs are also a matter of choice: fresh or dried basil (the most usual addition), marjoram, or tarragon all enhance the sauce with a mildly sweet herbal presence; oregano or bay add a more assertive flavor. Spaghetti is traditional for this everyday, home-style dish, but other shapes, such as bow ties, small rigatoni, or penne, will also capture and hold the sauce as the pasta is lifted from plate to mouth. For the meatballs, I like to use my polpette, because their cheese centers add an extra oomph to the dish. But you can also use meatballs fashioned from either sweet Italian or Tuscan sausage with good results.

Somewhere in the land space between Asia and Europe, pork became a rare ingredient in cooking. In most of those lands, it was because pork is proscribed for religious reasons. But then there are noticeable exceptions. In Armenia, Georgia, and Greece, pork appears on menus, though never in the exalted number of dishes that it does in the surrounding cuisines of Europe, Southeast Asia, or China. The disparity remains a mystery to me. There is no religious prohibition in these places, and pigs don’t require vast ranges or grasslands to thrive. Indeed, a small pen in the home yard does nicely. Perhaps it is because of the influence of their neighbors. The Armenians, Georgians, and Greeks are Christians, but they are flanked by Muslims and, if contiguous populations don’t insist on warring with one another, they intermingle, which means, most profoundly, they come together at the table. Thus, if you can’t share a pork dish with your neighbors, you might instead choose lamb or beef for a multicultural, convivial affair. In any case, the Greeks have retained in their repertoire a pork-based sausage that includes a bit of beef and is aromatic with orange zest and coriander and extra zesty with chile flakes. It imports with ease to anywhere such a sausage is wanted.

Pita is a staple flatbread of casual Middle Eastern cuisine. Sometimes the pita has a pocket, which is opened and filled with delicious ingredients. Sometimes it has no pocket, and is merely folded over to contain the ingredients as best it can. The cooling, refreshing cucumber-laced yogurt sauce, called by many names—tzatziki in Greek, jajik in Armenian, cacik in Turkish, raita in Hindi—soothes the heat of a dish and the heat of the day. Following the Greek theme suggested by the sausage, I call for pita without a pocket. I shape the sausage into small balls and grill the balls, their aroma recalling the enticing, smoky scent that wafts from spinning souvlakis (gyros) you find in marketplaces throughout Greece.

The familiar Polish sausage known as kielbasa was introduced to American cuisine in the neighborhoods of Chicago, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Michigan, where many Polish immigrants settled during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Nowadays, kielbasa is widely produced commercially and is marketed to food purveyors nationwide. It is usually smoked and sandwiched in a hot dog bun, tucked into a hearty cabbage borscht, or added to a robust sauerkraut dish (page 46). That is not the whole story, however. Kielbasa is actually the generic term for sausage in Polish and there are many versions. I prefer a fresh, not smoked, sausage, but with a hint of ham to suggest a smoky flavor.

There’s almost no turn in Tuscany that doesn’t provide some sensory joy. Driving its curvy roads through low hills gently swelling up from narrow, verdant valleys, you discover olive groves that produce some of the world’s finest olive oil and vineyards that yield some of the world’s most renowned wines. Exploring the region’s old towns and cities on foot, you wind your way through dozens of museums full of famous artworks and wander into back-alley churches and quaint shops stacked with Tuscan treasures. And everywhere, there is fabulous food. The Tuscans have long produced delicious salumi, that special form of pork cookery, called charcuterie in France, that comprises prosciutto, mortadella, soppressata, salamis and other cured meats, along with fresh sausages particular to the region. In this recipe, sundried tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella flavor fresh pork sausage to deliver the taste of Tuscany.

Minestrone has a long history in Italian cuisine and, not surprisingly, many interpretations. Old tales recount how Roman soldiers lived on a diet of minestrone and chickpeas, a strange assertion since many of the soup’s classic ingredients—tomatoes, potatoes, beans—are New World foods that were not available at the time. By the end of the sixteenth century, the core concept had become a tasty mixture of vegetables, including dried beans, with pasta and/or potatoes. If you can find them, use borlotti (cranberry) beans, a specialty of Tuscany. Swirling a pesto of arugula, rather than the more prosaic basil, into the minestrone imparts a refreshing change. Other unusual elements in the soup are a tiny spritz of vinegar and the use of shallot instead of garlic. The pesto is also good for dolloping on plain boiled potatoes or a simply cooked fish fillet or chicken breast, or on bruschetta, for serving as an appetizer.

In the 1970s, when everyone and their sisters and brothers became enchanted with French cooking, with Julia Child leading the way, quiche became the savory custard pie. The classic, quiche Lorraine, made with bacon and Gruyère cheese to enrich the custard, enjoyed star status as an elegant staple for brunch or for a first course in a multitiered dinner à la français. Variations in great numbers soon followed, and quiche in one or another guise turned into a favorite on buffet tables and appetizer menus. Here, with Toulouse sausage and a green splotch of spinach, the lovable custard-in-a-crust reinvents itself into an uncomplicated light dinner. Even though it is easier to purchase a prepared pastry crust, to settle for that is to miss the flaky, unctuous mouth delight of a homemade one. A food processor provides a quick, simple, and almost hands-free way to make an exceptional crust. A removable-bottom tart pan, such as the type the French would use for quiche and sweet dessert tarts, makes it easy to present the pie standing alone rather than in a dish, which is more awkward to serve from.

Why Pittsburgh? Because James Potenziani, known to all as “Chooch,” is Italian American and grew up in Pittsburgh. He was the master behind the sausage machine at Pig-by-the-Tail. He is also a football person (he always roots for the Steelers), and he devised the Pittsburgh sausage sandwich to celebrate on Super Bowl day. It became a year-round favorite at Pig-by-the-Tail.

The fennel-spiked sausage that turns up in such favorite Italian American preparations as pizza, meatball sandwiches (page 38), custardy casseroles, and savory pies has so captured the heart of American cooking that it can be found in supermarkets and deli cases from the Atlantic seaboard to the Pacific Northwest and everywhere in between. Not only is it one of the tastiest and most popular sausages, but it is also one of the easiest to make at home because it doesn’t require a casing. In fact, most recipes call for taking it out of its casing. If you want to serve the sausage as links, stuff it into hog casing. The recipe yields a larger amount than the other recipes in the book because this sausage is so versatile that I like to have some on hand in the freezer.

On my brief sojourn in the Toulouse area, I traveled to many local villages and towns acclaimed for their charcuterie. Among them was Castelnaudary, a small village built of stone, close by the fairy-tale-like medieval castle of Carcassonne. The castle was a thrill; even more so was the cassoulet I enjoyed in Castelnaudary, known as the cradle of cassoulet. I mustered the nerve to ask the chef what his secret was. He graciously shared his version of “the cassoulet secret”: The kind of beans you use is crucial. They should be lingot beans, also called white kidney beans or cannellini beans, or coco beans, which resemble slightly elongated navy beans. Both are sweetly buttery and cook up soft and tender enough to soak up juices, but still hold their shape. Then, the beans must be allowed to cool completely in their cooking liquid before assembling the cassoulet. Overnight is best. Stuffed whole duck legs (drumstick and thigh combination) make a delectable sausage star for a faux cassoulet. To sidestep the lengthy process of curing the duck overnight then braising it in duck fat to make confit, the whole legs are sprinkled with a salt and herb seasoning and refrigerated for a few hours to allow the seasonings to imbue. The sausage is then stuffed under the thigh skin, making a single package of sausage and duck meat.

I opened Pig-by-the-Tail because I wanted to bring to the American marketplace the charcuterie I had fallen in love with on sojourns to France, Spain, Italy, Germany, and Austria. Two years after its debut, I decided it was time to put some “bones” onto that passion. I traveled to France to learn from M. Roger Gleize, the charcutier in the small town of Revel in the Haute-Garonne just outside of Toulouse. It was an eye-opening experience to watch him use a hand grinder to grind pounds and pounds of perfectly succulent pork, not too lean, not too fat, for the region’s specialty Toulouse sausage. He seasoned the meat with salt, peppers, and a dash each of nutmeg and sugar, and then added a soupçon of water to moisten the mixture for easier stuffing. He fitted the same manual machine with a sausage-stuffing funnel and proceeded to turn out a seemingly endless supply of fresh Toulouse sausages. Everything he made was quickly purchased by local households to use for their daily meals and by local restaurants to include in the renowned cassoulet of the region. From that sojourn, I carried home a deep admiration for simply, yet perfectly done ways with food, and Toulouse sausage became one of my go-to household sausages. For this book, I have modified the recipe to call for bulk sausage, rather than links. But, if you would like to follow tradition, use hog casing.

Omelet, frittata, egg tortilla—all are different words for essentially the same thing: eggs mixed with vegetable and/or meat bits and cooked into a cake or pancakelike round. The advantage of this version is that it follows the Spanish or Italian custom of baking the assembled dish. That means no intimidating calisthenics to flip the cake to cook the second side. I serve this informal dish in its cooking skillet, but it’s also easy to lift it out onto a platter.

Season: August to September. For me, tomato passata is an essential pantry ingredient. I use it as a base for my roasted tomato ketchup (see p. 187), as well as for pasta sauces and curries. The best time to make this preserve is when tomatoes are at their cropping peak–smelling strong, sweet, and aromatic when picked from the vine. This recipe uses 4 1/2 pounds of fruit but, if you are using bought tomatoes as opposed to homegrown ones, I suggest you negotiate a good deal with your local grower and buy a boxful or two. You certainly won’t regret it. You can’t buy passata like this one!

Season: June to October. This is also known as officer’s jam, but it’s really not a jam at all. The German name, Rumtopf, seems far more appropriate for what is actually a cocktail of rum-soaked fruit. The idea is that the mixture of fruit, alcohol, and sugar is added to gradually, as different fruits ripen throughout the growing season. This preserve is usually prepared with Christmas in mind, when the potent fruity alcohol is drunk and the highly spirited fruit can be served on its own or with ice cream and desserts. You will need a large glazed stoneware or earthenware pot with a closely fitting lid and a small plate, saucer, or other flat object that will fit inside the pot and keep the fruit submerged.

Season: Autumn to winter. The Italians use fiery-hot mustard oil to add a bit of passion to their classic fruit preserve mostardo di cremona. However, mustard oil is pretty well impossible to purchase in this country, so I have used mustard seeds and powder to pep up the dried figs in my own interpretation of the dish. Serve it with hot or cold meat, with oily fish dishes, or with cheese in sandwiches.

Season: Pretty much all year round. I’d like to introduce you to a group of cordials with a name inspired by a British fruit juice beverage called Ribena. These can be prepared throughout the year and are an excellent way of using fruit that’s too ripe for jam making. I’ve made rhubeena with rhubarb, berrybeena with summer berries, plumbeena with plums–and currants work very well too. Use these fruits alone to make single-variety ’beenas or, for a lighter and more economical cordial, use 50 percent cooking apples. Because the fruit pulp will be strained, you needn’t be too fastidious with its preparation. Rhubarb should be cut into chunks. Strawberries should be hulled. Plums are best halved, but it’s not necessary to remove the pits. Apples should be stemmed and coarsely chopped, but there’s no need to peel or core them.

Mandelbrot comes from the German words for “almond” (Mandel) and “bread” (Brot). Our variation contains pecans instead of almonds. As with biscotti, the dough is partially baked, sliced, and baked again.

These anise-flavored molded cookies originated hundreds of years ago; today, replicas of the traditional European molds are available in hundreds of designs. The cookies are made with lots of eggs, whose leavening effect may have given them the name springerle, which means “little jumper” in German.

The snowy sugar surface contrasts with the peppery flavor of these German spice cookies. Pfeffer means “pepper” in German; Nuss means “nut,” and refers more to the shape than to the ingredients.

The name for these pressed cookies comes from the German word spritzen (“to squirt”); they can be quickly formed with a cookie press. Although they have a very fine crumb, the wreaths are sturdy enough for packaging (see page 342 for a gift idea).