European

I love all kinds of Italian fish soups, having sampled countless versions of zuppa di pesce, served with just enough tomatoey sauce to slurp up with a spoon, as well as brodo di pesce, a flavorful fish stock usually with nothing but rice. A new discovery for me, though, was this Molisano version of brodo di pesce, with chard and peppers floating between chunks of seafood in a savory broth. Served with grilled bread or a slab of grilled polenta, it is indeed a complete meal. Relish it with a glass of crispy white wine from the region’s distinctive Falanghina grape varietal, and you can taste Molise beckoning you.

Slowly braised meats are a specialty of cooks in the high country of Abruzzo. With a fire always burning in the hearth or on a stove, it makes sense to keep a pot stewing. And from the ubiquitous flocks of sheep there’s always some mutton or lamb that will benefit from long cooking. Here’s a typically tasty example: a leg of lamb, bone removed, laid open in a flat slab (what we call “butterflied”), then slathered with a savory bread filling, rolled and tied up, and cooked for hours in a savory tomato sauce. This is a great dish for a festive occasion, because a big leg will easily serve eight or more. To savor it Italian-style, I encourage you to present this in two courses, using the sauce to dress maccheroni alla chitarra or other pasta for a primo (first course), and serving the sliced lamb leg as the main course. Mashed potatoes and braised broccoli or chicory would be excellent accompaniments to the meat. Keep the recipe procedure in mind when purchasing boneless leg of lamb. You want a leg that’s been butterflied but preferably left untied. However, do ask the butcher for a length of the netting, or meat stocking, that slips over a rolled leg to hold it in shape; this will come in handy once the meat is stuffed and ready to cook. If the butcher is accommodating, specify that you want the leg butterflied to lie flat with an even thickness, so you can coat the meat generously with the bread seasoning and roll it up neatly. Should you end up with meat that is too thick in places, you can flatten it yourself with a meat mallet, or by butterflying, that is, sliding a knife into the thick muscle and opening it up.

This special dessert is so good—and so much fun to prepare and serve—I hope you’ll be persuaded to make and keep scrippelle (crêpes) on hand all the time, as they do in the kitchens of Abruzzo. Here, you slice the scrippelle into strips (they look like fresh fettuccine!) and toss them in a hot caramel, apricot, and citrus sauce that you’ve got bubbling in a skillet. Serve the beautifully glazed ribbons still warm, with whipped cream melting on top. This recipe calls for a full batch of the thin pancakes (the same ones used for the savory Crespelle with Spinach, page 234), but it is easy to adjust the amounts to make a larger or smaller dessert. Even if you have only a couple of extra scrippelle in your freezer, you can still transform them, with this basic technique, into a treat for two. Let your creativity loose: Just like pasta, scrippelle ribbons can be dressed for dessert in countless ways. Add rum or liqueur to this caramel sauce, or vary it with other fruit preserves or juices. Shape the ribbons into a little nest for a scoop of ice cream. Or drizzle melted chocolate over the warm ribbons, sprinkle with chopped toasted hazelnuts, and top with a dollop of whipped cream.

This is a lovely, careful way to prepare thick lamb chops—quite different from the usual fast grilling approach—and it makes them extraordinarily flavorful and tender. The chops brown gradually in a heavy skillet over relatively low heat, steadily building the flavors of caramelization, and then cook covered with a small amount of liquid and seasoning elements. This short period of moist cooking doesn’t draw the meat juices into the liquid (as it would in long stewing or braising) but instead brings the seasoning flavors more intensely into the meat itself. Here, lemon, olives, and oregano give the chops the tangy taste of Abruzzo. For a great winter meal, accompany them with something cozy, like polenta, mashed potatoes, or smothered cabbage or cauliflower. In summer, a tossed green salad is all you need. Either rib chops or loin chops are suited for this recipe, though my choice is the loin chop, which offers portions of both the loin and the tenderloin muscles (like a T-bone steak). You could use lamb shoulder chops, too, but they’d need nearly twice as much time to cook covered. They wouldn’t be as amazingly tender as loin or rib chops, but they would be delicious (and cost a lot less). With any kind of chop, a heavy cast-iron pan is perfect here, because of its steady heat-retaining qualities, but it must be well seasoned, so the meaty caramelization is not lost on the pan bottom.

On my recent visits to Abruzzo, I have been impressed as never before by the region’s Adriatic coast, with its picturesque trabocchi, the little fishing shacks that hover over the water at the end of long wooden piers, and by the fresh coastal cuisine we enjoyed, meal after meal. Here’s a recipe inspired by the delightful lunches of that visit, which we sometimes ate in view of the trabocchi, where the smoke rising from the ends of the piers told me the fishermen were cooking lunch, too. It is just the kind of fresh-from-the-sea dish they make, lots of shellfish quickly cooked in garlicky tomato sauce, then tossed with a pasta that traps the nuggets of fish and sauce in its hollows. My choice are the fat tubes called paccheri, a sort of giant rigatoni. In my opinion, there is no greater gustatory experience than the marvelous squirting that fills your mouth when you bite into paccheri full of sauce and juicy seafood. This pasta di trabocchi also has the distinctly Abruzzese touch of saffron (picked in the high plains of Navelli) to add complexity and depth to the sauce. And for me, saffron has a magical effect on the palate, creating the illusion of distant, mystic places. It’s a fitting flavor in a dish of the sea, and a symbol for those that travel the sea, the mariners of the Abruzzo coast.

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.

I love ground-meat sauces that cook slowly for hours, allowing an exchange of flavors between the meat, cooking liquids, and seasonings and concentrating them into a dense, delicious dressing. Emilia-Romagna is famous for such sauces, the classic Ragù alla Bolognese (page 382) and Ragù di Carni Bianche (page 137) among them. This Abruzzese sauce is quite similar in its procedures, though it uses only pork rather than a mixture of ground meats. It also has some of the typical flavoring touches of the region, notably a generous dash of peperoncino and a greater volume of tomatoes, rendering it a bit more acidic and definitely more lively than a conventional, mellow Bolognese. It’s a great dressing for homemade maccheroni alla chitarra, and wonderful with other pastas, too. At home, whenever I’m preparing a dish like this that takes a long time—and yields such delicious results—I make more of it than I need for one occasion. Another great, effortless meal is a good reward for the hours and effort devoted to cooking the sauce. That’s why I have formulated this recipe to yield enough ragù to dress a pound of maccheroni or other pasta on the day it is cooked, with an equal amount to pack away in the freezer.

Agro means “sour,” and in this refreshing and fast pasta sauce, there’s plenty of lively acidity: white wine, freshly squeezed lemon juice, and grated lemon zest. These are nicely balanced with butter and cream, and all the cooking takes barely 5 minutes—less than the time you need to cook your maccheroni alla chitarra. Be sure that all your ingredients are ready—and the pasta water is at the boil—when you start cooking the sauce. Best with maccheroni alla chitarra, this dressing is also delicious with fresh tagliatelle or dry spaghetti or linguine.

In this recipe, careful cooking brings out the wonderful flavor of fresh zucchini to make a lovely dressing for maccheroni (or other pasta). Select small, firm zucchini, though—preferably right from the garden!—and if you can, pick, or purchase, zucchini flowers at the same time. They make the dish especially festive. As the name all’Aquilana suggests, this has distinctive touches of the cooking of Aquila, a city in the high inland province of Abruzzo: you can’t miss the fragrant presence of saffron (presumably the splendid zafferano d’Aquila; see page 243), and the sauce’s final enrichment with egg yolks is a typical embellishment in regional kitchens. All together, this is a flavorful and satisfying first or main course. It’s thoroughly vegetarian—though you can use poultry stock in place of water for a somewhat richer dish.

This wonderful country-style pasta dish requires almost no cooking, but fresh, flavorful ingredients are essential. Most important is to find fresh whole-milk ricotta (not the processed, packaged variety), often sold in good Italian markets and whole-food stores. If you can find artisan-made sheep’s- or goat’s-milk ricotta, that would be best of all. Another key ingredient is dry pasta made from farro, a kind of wheat berry usually cooked as a whole grain (try my Farro with Roasted Pepper Sauce, page 167). Farro pasta is quite popular in Abruzzo and is manufactured there, in many shapes, by both small artisanal pastifici (pasta factories) and the big pasta companies. Look for it in your market, or order it online (see Sources, page 387); either ziti or spaghetti would be my choice for this dish. It is delicious, nutritious, and moderately priced. You’ll also need tender rucola (arugula), good grated pecorino, and excellent extra-virgin olive oil. Once you have all your ingredients, the preparation is fast and easy.

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.

Italians have many local and regional names for crespelle (what the French, and most Americans, call crêpes) and innumerable ways to enjoy them. In Abruzzo, these traditional thin pancakes are called scrippelle and are the versatile foundation for both savory and sweet dishes. Here’s a typically simple casserole of spinach-filled scrippelle, lightly dressed with tomato sauce and a shower of grated cheese. Serve bubbling hot from the oven as an appetizer or a fine vegetarian main dish (even meat-lovers will be satisfied). The batter for these scrippelle is a bit thicker than the usual crespelle batter, but it is easy to work with and produces a pancake with fine texture. The Abruzzesi use them in all sorts of creative ways: layered with cheeses and sauce like a lasagna or a pasticiatta, rolled and stuffed and baked like manicotti. A popular technique is to stack and slice the scrippelle into thin, tagliatelle-like ribbons. These ribbons are often used as a soup garnish (see box), or in clever desserts, as I show you later in this chapter (page 261).

A minestra paesana of humble ingredients, this is a delightfully satisfying and flavorful soup. The soup base is built on a pestata, a bit of tomato, and, if you have one, a piece of hard rind left from grating cheese. (I hope you save these! They are a great addition to almost any soup or stock.) One of my favorite vegetables, celery—and lots of it—gives the soup a delicate yet distinctive taste. And just before serving, a few handfuls of ditalini (or other short pasta) cook in the broth, to provide texture and substance. Don’t add the pasta until you are almost ready to serve, because it becomes soft and soggy left in the soup. In Abruzzo, as elsewhere in Italy, only al dente pasta should grace a soup bowl—and that’s what this recipe will give you.

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.

These crispy, savory balls, simmering in tomato sauce, are delicious and surprising: though they have all the texture and flavor that a meatball-lover would ask for, there’s not a bit of meat in them—just eggs, grated cheese, and bread crumbs plus garlic and basil. They are certainly a testament to the ingenuity of Abruzzese cooks, who have fashioned the simplest staples of a rustic kitchen into a treat for all occasions. Serve the polpettine as a special snack or party hors d’oeuvre—when they’re freshly fried and crispy, you won’t even need any sauce. And with the sauce, they make a delightful primo or vegetarian main course. A good-quality pecorino for grating is essential here and will give you the most authentic flavor. If you’ve found one you like, use it exclusively in the polpettine and for serving. If your pecorino is sharp and/or salty, substitute Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano for half the cheese in the recipe.

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.

Legumes are a specialty of growers in L’Aquila, the big inland province of Abruzzo, and the pride of the region is the small, tender lentils grown in the mountain village of Santo Stefano di Sessanio. Since my recent visit to this remote, rugged settlement, I have had no doubt that it was in just such a place that this hearty and warming winter soup, thick with lentils and chestnuts, was created. These native foods, so good together, can surely sustain one through long cold winters in the high country. Unfortunately, the delicious lenticchie of Santo Stefano di Sessanio are a limited commodity and not available here. Instead, I recommend using lentils from Castelluccio in Umbria (see Sources, page 387) in this soup. Ordinary lentils are fine as well, though some larger types may need soaking or longer cooking time. Chestnuts, grown along the length of the Apennines, are also essential to Abruzzese cuisine. In season, they’re enjoyed in everything from pastas to desserts, and then, like lentils, dried for winter cooking or milled into flour. Though this soup can be made with fresh (or frozen) chestnuts, I use dried chestnuts, as is often the case in Abruzzo. These are available year-round and spare you the work of peeling. I also like the way they cook slowly without disintegrating, giving the soup a particularly nice texture. They do require an overnight soak, however, before you start cooking.

Here is another gem from the treasure of pork dishes I found in Umbria, especially around Norcia. Like the preceding recipe for sausages and grapes, this calls for a leisurely approach to cooking, slowly caramelizing the pork and building a fantastic glaze for the chops, with the mingled flavors of lemon, peperoncini, capers, and wine. I always prefer chops on the bone, but you can make this recipe with boneless pork-loin cutlets as well. Since they are usually thinner, they’ll need less cooking time, though gentle and slow browning is still called for. I like to accompany these with an intensely flavored vegetable such as braised broccoli di rape or mashed parsnips (or both!).

This recalls for me the chocolate-and-bread sandwiches that sometimes were my lunch, and always a special treat. And it is another inventive way surplus is used in Umbrian cuisine, with leftover country bread serving as the foundation of an elegant layered dessert. Though it is soaked with chocolate and espresso sauce and buried in whipped cream, the bread doesn’t disintegrate, and provides a pleasing textural contrast in every heavenly spoonful.

Panmelati are a delightful and surprising confection. Sweet, chewy, orange-infused, and crusted in nuts, they could be mistaken for fancy candy balls, but they are actually a kind of no-bake cookie, fashioned from a simple dough of bread crumbs cooked in honey. A great way to recycle old bread, these are quickly made, fun to roll, and a delicious treat with tea, coffee, or a dessert wine.