European

Cleaning, rolling, poaching, and slicing the sweetbreads can be done in advance, but wait until the last minute to cook them and make the sauce. Two whole sweetbreads will serve six people—perfect if you’re preparing this recipe for sweetbread lovers. If your circle of sweetbread fans is smaller, simply make this recipe with one sweetbread and cut the rest of the ingredients in half. Veal sweetbreads are the thymus gland of young calves, which, when cooked, have a delicate flavor and a somewhat firm texture. Look for large, plump pairs of sweetbreads and trim off most of the outer membrane before you cook them, keeping enough intact to hold the sweetbreads together as they poach. (You can always trim more off after they cook.) My method of shaping and poaching the sweetbreads first, then pan-searing them just before serving, helps the sweetbreads keep their shape and reduces the amount of last-minute cooking. Save any less-than-perfect slices and the trimmings from the end of the sweetbread “sausage” as a treat for the cook, or as a first course for another meal. (If you can’t get to enjoy them right away, wrap them tightly and freeze them until you can.) Brown the sweetbread nuggets in a mix of butter and oil until crispy, remove them from the pan and drain them. Sauté some sliced mushrooms in the same pan, then toss the sweetbreads and mushrooms with a green salad dressed with lemon and oil.

Texture is a very important part of the gustatory pleasures of tripe. Tripe should be soft and yet resilient; you do not want it mushy. In this recipe, as I do when making many long-simmered sauces, I keep a pot of hot water near the tripe as it simmers. From time to time, I check the tripe, ladling in water if the sauce has cooked down and some of the tripe isn’t covered. At the end of cooking, there should be enough sauce so the tripe is nice and juicy but not watery.

“Frenching” the chops—cleaning up the bone—prevents the “eye” of the meat, which is pounded out, from overcooking before the meat next to the bone is cooked, and it does make the finished chops look pretty. It is something I do for guests in my restaurants, and it is easy enough for you to learn and do at home. You can, of course, prepare this recipe without Frenching the chops; just be careful that the meat next to the bones is fully cooked before you serve the chops. You can prepare most of the ingredients—even bread the pork chops—in advance, but don’t fry the pork, slice the onion, or toss the salad until the last minute. Without the mozzarella in the salad, these chops are perfect for lunch or a light dinner. With the mozzarella, they are more substantial. You can use balsamic vinegar in place of all or part of the wine vinegar if you like. As always, dress the salad first with olive oil to coat the leaves, then sprinkle in vinegar to taste.

When searing meats or fish, the size of the skillet is important. A roomy skillet will retain more heat after you add things to it, and will climb back to searing temperature much more quickly than a smaller skillet. Once you put the slices of liver in the pan, let them sit undisturbed, giving them a chance to form a caramelized crust. If you like your liver rare or medium-rare, as I do, the second side should always cook less than the first—about half the time. If you like more well-done meats, reduce the heat under the pan after you have flipped the meat over to prevent it from scorching, then cook it to your liking. Salt draws liquids and juices from meats, and that is why I season the liver after it is cooked.

This sauce is traditionally simmered for hours, until a finger’s width of oil floats on top. Typically that oil was then reincorporated into the sauce. In true Italian family style, pass platters of the meat with some sauce spooned over them, and bowls of pasta dressed with the sauce around the table. Buon appetito.

Peppers with a slight kick to them, like the cubanellas or banana peppers suggested at left, are wonderful for this dish. If you can’t find those, choose the long, thin-skinned peppers often sold as “Italian frying peppers” in supermarkets. You can serve the peppers alone or with a side of rigatoni, dressed with some of the sauce from the stuffed-pepper baking dish, grated Pecorino Romano cheese, and a drizzle of olive oil. This is a favorite dish at Becco, our restaurant in New York’s Theater District.

Let as much liquid as possible drain from the tomatoes by cutting out the cores and allowing the juices and seeds inside to escape, and then squeezing them gently with your hands. If the tomatoes are too wet, the crust won’t cook properly. Whether you choose a food mill or food processor to grind the tomatoes, make sure they stay a little chunky. As with all the measurements for seasoning in this book, the amount of oregano I call for is a guideline. If you like a pronounced flavor of oregano, by all means add more.

You may be used to the large, pizzeria-size version of calzones, but I’m offering you this more typical Neapolitan version. Once you have the knack of making and filling the dough, the rest is easy. You can put whatever you like inside. Just make sure the fillings are drained of most of their excess liquid—the way I drain the ricotta overnight or squeeze the excess moisture from the spinach.

In the cantine or kitchens of Naples, you’re likely to see, hanging from strings, clusters of pomodorini (cherry tomatoes) put there at summer’s end to preserve their flavor for the cold winter months ahead. Because of their dry texture, these pomodorini are ideal for topping pizzas. If you’d like to approximate the texture and taste of cantina-dried pomodorini, cut ripe cherry tomatoes in half, arrange them, cut side down, on a baking sheet, and dry them overnight in the oven with only the pilot light lit. If you’re using regular or plum tomatoes, be sure to slice them thin and not to cover them with slices of mozzarella, or else they won’t dry and will make the crust soggy and undercooked.

If you want a really crispy, evenly baked crust, take the time to squeeze the tomatoes of excess liquid when you make the sauce (see following recipe) and drain the mozzarella briefly in a sieve before you put the pizzas together.

If you have beautifully ripe fresh plum tomatoes, peel and seed them for the sauce. If it isn’t tomato season, opt for canned tomatoes, but include a few fresh plum tomatoes to give the sauce a taste of freshness. I like the sweetness of jumbo lump crabmeat in these agnolotti, but if that is not available, substitute any type of fresh, sweet crabmeat, or even fresh sea or bay scallops cut into 1/2-inch pieces.