European

In the coastal areas of Basilicata, the varied catch of the day is the basis of this uncomplicated yet very tasty fish soup. Here I recommend using monkfish and grouper fillets, both with firm texture, so they won’t fall apart in the zuppa. Halibut is another good choice. Indeed, many varieties of fish and shellfish can be prepared this way, as long as you adjust the cooking time so the flesh remains intact and avoid overcooking. If using clams or mussels, use a wider pot, so the shells do not break the meaty fish as they open. For a more substantial dish, place a slice of grilled or toasted country bread, or a few slices of spicy potato, Patate Lessate con Diavolicchio (page 302), in each soup bowl before ladling in the zuppa di pesce.

Like many traditional Lucani dishes, this one is fashioned from the handful of ingredients one would find even in the most humble peasant pantry: dried peppers, yesterday’s bread, a chunk of hard cheese, olive oil, and garlic. Minimal yet delicious. The fire in fiery maccheroni, of course, comes from dried diavolicchio, the hot chili peppers so beloved in Basilicata and other southern regions. Here, whole dried peperoncino pods are soaked until soft, then puréed into a pesto to dress the pasta. Toasted bread crumbs play an important role in this dish, too, when they’re tossed in just before serving. They pick up the paste and garlicky olive oil, cling to the strands of pasta (preferably bucatini or perciatelli), and give crunchy, fiery sparks of flavor to every enjoyable bite.

Small ditalini and well-cooked broccoli di rape are all you need to make a delicious, warm, nourishing, and comforting dish—moist and almost soupy in consistency. Of course, you need the basic seasoning of the Basilicata cook, too: olive oil, garlic, lots of peperoncino, and pecorino. If you feel the need to add more to this simple dish, slivers of chicken breast can cook right in the pot with the ditalini and will give a meaty substance. Another natural addition would be cubes of provola just before serving (see Wedding Soup, page 299, for tips on adding provola to a soupy dish).

Lentils and pasta are a traditional pairing in Italian cooking, and most of the regions in the southern part of the boot enjoy pasta con lenticchie in some form, usually in soups. In this dish, which I was served in Basilicata, the lentils were cooked with other vegetables into a sauce that served as a delicious dressing for rigatoni. It was excellent that way. This sauce seems to me even more delightful as a dressing for whole-wheat or barley pasta.

The trio of seasonal vegetables here lends a distinctive flavor and texture to this skillet-cooked vegetable dish. Crisp and soft at the same time, it is a deluxe version of home fries, with the artichokes and favas adding color and excitement to the familiar flavor of pan-fried potatoes. It’s a great dinner vegetable dish, as well as a terrific accompaniment to eggs at a springtime breakfast or brunch. (If you are watching your carbs, omit the potatoes and increase the amounts of other vegetables by half.)

This recipe makes a wonderful tomato-and-sausage sauce for pasta. Typical of Basilicata, it is uncomplicated yet yields a complex and delicious flavor. It is important to use the best sausage, preferably a mix freshly made by a real Italian butcher. If there’s one available to you, ask for sweet, all-pork sausage, preferably a medium grind of meat with some texture, rather than a fine grind, which tends to be pasty. To save work, since you want the meat to be loose, ask for the sausage mix before it is put in the casing. As for the pasta, I recommend bucatini, which is what I first had in Basilicata. But I like spaghetti with this, too—a whole-wheat spaghetti would be especially nice.

Potatoes will never taste the same after you have tried this dish. This preparation captures the beauty of the cooking of Basilicata: straightforward, simple, but full of brilliant flavor. Even if you are not so passionate about hot pepper, I encourage you not to be timid with the peperoncino in this dish. Of course, this kind of simple cooking depends on fine ingredients. Excellent olive oil and good potatoes are key. I like russets, but Yukon Gold or waxy varieties would work, too.

The deep flavor and delightfully varied textures of this pasta dressing develop in the oven, where you bake the cherry tomatoes coated with bread crumbs just before you toss them with pasta. Roasting them this way intensifies their flavor, and the bread crumbs become crunchy. It is a lovely dish to make when sweet cherry tomatoes are in season, but it is also good with the lesser cherry-tomato varieties you get in winter; these can be used successfully here because of the concentration of taste and texture during baking. This dressing is suitable for almost any pasta, but I particularly like it with spaghetti, gemelli, or penne. Because the tomatoes are at their best as soon as they come out of the oven, the dressing and pasta should be cooked simultaneously, and I have written the recipe to ensure that you will have your pasta and baked tomatoes ready for each other at the same time.

In the dialect of the Lucani (as natives of Basilicata are known) maritare means “to wed,” and I have always thought that this wonderful soup was so named because it was customarily served at wedding celebrations. Recently, however, while doing some research, I came upon another explanation of why it is called maritata—because it weds vegetables (in the soup base) with meat (in the polpette), and with this added protein it becomes a complete and balanced one-course meal. I like both interpretations of the name and believe they’re compatible. Certainly a young couple, on the brink of their first night as newlyweds, can use this fortifying nourishment! There are many ways to prepare and serve a soup with multiple elements like this one, and you can of course play around with the recipe here. One variation is to fry the meatballs rather than poaching them. Though it takes a bit more work, it does give another layer of flavor (see my recipe for Meatballs in Broth in the Umbria chapter, page 196, for instructions on frying little meatballs for soup). Another option is to add cubes of provola to the soup just before serving. If you can get a good-quality Italian provola (mild provolone), this embellishment is superb. I’ve included instructions for this step at the end of the main recipe.

I love this simple method for cooking whole octopus so it explodes with flavor. You just put it in a heavy pan and let it cook very slowly (with only olive oil, sliced onions, and olives to season it) for a couple of hours. As it cooks, it releases all of its natural, tasty water, which serves as a braising liquid. Though the meat loses some volume, its flavor is retained in the liquid, which naturally cooks into a great dressing for spaghetti or other pasta. In this recipe, the meat is cut into chunks that are tossed with the spaghetti and cooking juices. For a special occasion, though, you can serve the whole octopus, uncut (or two smaller octopuses, as called for here). If you dress the spaghetti with the juices alone and set the octopus on top, with the tentacles curling around and under, it makes a beautiful presentation. You can also serve this delectable cephalopod—either whole or cut into pieces—over freshly cooked soft polenta or slabs of grilled polenta. And any leftover octopus meat or sauce can be incorporated into a terrific risotto; with so much flavor in them, just a small amount of leftovers is all you’ll need to make a great risotto for two.

This is one of those bountiful braises that you make when you want to delight a big table of family or friends, offering them an assortment of tender meats and pasta dressed with the braising sauce. Like other slowly cooked braises, this gives you two courses from one saucepan. Serve pasta dressed with the meaty-tasting tomato sauce as a first course—there’s enough to dress 2 pounds of rigatoni. And then serve the pork, veal, and sausage as a second course. Of course, you don’t have to serve it all for the same meal. Use half the sauce to dress a pound of pasta, freeze the rest, and you have a future meal all ready to go. And after serving the ragù, take any leftover bits and pieces of meat, shred and chop them up, clean the meat from the veal-chop bone, and blend all of it in with any leftover sauce. I bet you’ll have enough sauce with meaty morsels for a lasagna or other baked pasta—yet another meal from that one big braising pan.

For me, there’s no better way to dress spaghetti than with a fresh seafood sauce. And this sauce, from the old fishing port of Termoli in Molise, is as simple and delicious as any. In the restaurants by the docks in Termoli (near the old citadel called Tornola), just-caught seafood is served in a brodetto. You eat the seafood, and then the kitchen will toss spaghetti into the sauce you’ve left in your bowl. In my version of spaghetti di Tornola, the calamari, scallops, and shrimp are part of the pasta dressing, but you can eat the brodetto in separate courses, Termoli-style, if you like. In summer, I use my mother’s home-grown, sun-ripened cherry tomatoes to make an exceptional sauce, but in winter, a couple of cups of canned plum tomatoes make a fine substitute.

The Italian title calls for John Dory as the fish, and by all means use it if you can find it, but otherwise sea bass will be just as delicious.

In this dish, the cavatelli are dressed with a sauce of fresh fava beans, always a great treat in season. Another special ingredient here is ricotta salata, or salted ricotta, a marvelous product made from fresh sheep’s-milk ricotta that is pressed, dried, and aged for a few months, until fairly firm, retaining the mild, milky taste of fresh ricotta yet with more complexity. It is a traditional accompaniment to fresh favas—a delicious pairing you will taste here—but ricotta salata is a great final seasoning on many other pastas as well. As I instruct in this recipe, ricotta salata is best grated on top of the pasta just before you serve it. Put a chunk of it on the table with the grater, and let people shower on more ricotta salata as they dig deeper into their bowls.

The second recipe for cavatelli with cauliflower, casareccie vruocchele e vredocchie, has a bit more complexity with toasted almonds and bread crumbs. Typically, this kind of dish is made with fresh home-made pastas like cavatelli—casarecce means “homemade”—but a short dried pasta such as gemelli can be substituted.

Life in the hilly inland of Molise was for centuries a pastoral existence, and the traditional staples of the pastoral table are still essential elements in cooking alla Molisana. Ricotta, a nutritious and always available by-product of cheesemaking, thus appears on the table in many forms, such as gnocchi, with pastas and vegetables, and in soups—or eaten just plain, with bread. Here’s one of the most delicious ways that ricotta can be enjoyed: drained, shaped in small pieces, breaded, and fried, ricotta fritta gains new dimensions of texture and flavor. Serve these fried ricotta morsels as a savory appetizer or main course, in a puddle of tomato sauce or on top of braised vegetables. On the other hand, if you top them with some poached peaches or peach preserve or fruit jam with a dollop of whipped cream, you have a glorious dessert.

Cauliflower is one of my favorite vegetables, and I regret that many people don’t sufficiently appreciate its unique flavor and nutritional value. This is not the case in Molise, where it is cooked often and creatively, as exemplified by the following two simple vegetarian pasta dishes. The first recipe, maccarun ch’i hiucc, is zesty with garlic and peperoncino.