Root Vegetable

Making a whole fish is so cinchy that it’s almost not fair. It looks like you’ve put so much time and effort into it, and it’s so elegant and beautiful on a serving platter, but really, all you have to do is jam a fish full of herbs and lemon and toss it in the oven until its eyeball pops out! I think this is the coolest part—Mother Nature’s own pop-up timer—I bet that’s how they invented the pop-up turkey timer!

When I was working in Tuscany I made this dish every day. It’s a traditional osso bucco, but instead of using cross-sections, it uses the whole shank. I love it this way—big and meaty—but if you want to make these into individual portions, have the butcher cut the shanks into cross-sections for you. Because it’s a basic braise, you get started the way you would with any braise—by browning the meat really well and then browning the veggies. The big difference here is I’ve added apples to the soffritto for a little something special. SWEET!

I grew up hating pork chops. My mom used to make pork chops that were about as fat as a piece of paper (that’s all that was available back then), and she would cook them for a really long time—until they were dry and flavorless. Sadly, today so much commercially raised pork has so little fat in it that even if you cook it correctly, it can still be like eating your shoe. That’s why I love this brine—it infuses the pork with moisture and flavor, so you end up with a succulent and delicious chop. Then I crust it with one of my super-secret flavor weapons—fennel pollen. I discovered fennel pollen when I was working in Tuscany; it’s expensive but is so worth it. (If you can’t find it or don’t want to fork out the cash, toasted ground fennel seed is an acceptable substitute.) This is such a great combination of flavors that you will never think of pork chops the same way again!

My mom used to make stuffed peppers, but I don’t like peppers. What I liked was the stuffing. So I’ve taken my mom’s recipe, tweaked it, and stuffed it in cabbage instead. I’ve also added chicken livers. The livers add an earthy richness that makes this dish super-special. If you don’t like chicken livers—or think you don’t—this is one time where you should get beyond the ick factor, accept that they’re worth adding, and move on . . . because this dish rocks.

In Italy they don’t eat spaghetti and meatballs. Instead they have what they call polpettini, or little meatballs (page 47). And when they want something bigger, they make polpettone—meatloaf. I figured, if they make little ones and a big one, why not make a medium-size one and throw it on a bun? This size is just right, and if I could have a burger this good every time I wanted one, I’d be a happy, happy girl.

In Tuscany, every town has a market day. This is when trucks carrying all kinds of delightful edibles pull into the center of town, open up their sides, and become little grocery stores on wheels. Of course my favorite truck was always the porchetta truck—who doesn’t love a truck that sells a delicious crispy pork product? Traditionally, porchetta is a whole pig that’s been boned and cooked for hours, until the skin gets totally brown and crunchy and the meat becomes wonderfully tender. It’s most often seasoned with garlic, sage, and black pepper—and while pepper is not usually how I roll, it’s appropriate in this dish to keep the classic flavors intact. What is totally unique in my version is to cook the pork on a bed of autumn vegetables—they soak up the lovely porky juices and help create the ultimate one-pot dinner for a crowd. Be sure to save some leftovers for a sandwich the next day!

I first encountered this sauce while working in Umbria, and it’s one of my favorite summertime pastas. To me, this is Mother Nature’s last blast, her crescendo before fall. This is where you take everything she has to give, all those glorious summer ingredients, and toss them together to let the wonderful flavors marry. Then you just barely heat everything up, never actually letting the veggies cook, so they maintain their fresh flavors. Punctuate this with a salty grate of ricotta salata and say, “Mmmmm . . .”

I used to go to Lupa, Mario Batali’s Roman trattoria on Thompson Street in Manhattan, and eat preserved tuna belly with beans. It was SOOOOO good! The tuna belly—which is a highly underrated ingredient—becomes succulent and delicious when it’s slow-poached, and that’s exactly how I cook it. I use it in a pasta sauce that’s full of tomatoes, fennel, and lots of garlic to create a wonderful tomato-y, perfume-y, olive oil-y dish that just screams of Sicily. One of the great things about tuna belly is that because it’s considered the throwaway part of the fish, it’s really cheap. You have to spend some time cleaning it, but usually if you pay a bit more you can get it already prepped from your fishmonger (much easier!). If you can’t find tuna belly or don’t feel like making it, a good substitute is Sicilian tuna packed in olive oil.

When I’m in the mood for tomato sauce, Amatriciana is my go-to. It’s all about onions, spicy tomatoes, and pork products. Guanciale—cured pork jowl—is the key here. It has a sweeter, more interesting flavor than bacon. In a pinch, pancetta can be substituted, and in a double pinch bacon will suffice (though it does add a smokier flavor, so be warned). What else can I say? This sauce makes me want to dive into the bowl head first with my mouth wide open!

When I was working in Tuscany during porcini season I always wanted to go foraging for mushrooms, but the Italians are so secretive about where they find their prized porcini that I could never convince anyone to take me with them. So, while I never got to go hunting for fresh porcini, I did learn how to use dried ones to make this gorgeous sauce. If you’ve never used them before, dried porcini are a fantastic way to add a huge bump of mushroomy goodness to almost anything. And, because you have to soak them first, you get the added benefit of the fastest, most flavorful vegetarian stock ever; one that you can then add to your sauce to give it an even richer, earthier boost of flavor—just like I do here.

Years ago, I was working at a tiny restaurant in Tuscany. This is where I first learned to make ragù—an unbelievably delicious sauce that I would let cook for hours and hours. But in the beginning, no matter how long I let it simmer, the owner would come over, taste it, and tell me the vegetables were raw! In my head I remember thinking, are you freaking kidding me? But he was right. I was skimping on an essential step—I was rushing the browning of the soffritto: the early stage in a ragù’s life cycle when the flavor begins to build and deepen. Now, of course, I’m super-sensitive to this step, and when I taste a ragù in a restaurant, I can tell instantly if the chef has taken a shortcut at the browning stage. So be patient—if you’re taking the time and effort to make this spectacular sauce, don’t rush it; brown it and enjoy!

I’ve had a lot of bad gnocchi in my life. You know the kind I’m talking about: You eat three and suddenly your belly expands and you feel like balls of bread dough are rising in there. Gnocchi should be light and airy, like clouds! Over time I’ve perfected the secrets to great gnocchi and if you follow this recipe, even as a beginner, you will be successful EVERY time.

Chicken soup is so comforting on so many levels, and it’s a cinch to whip up a pot of your own rather than opening a can (which is not that healthy, by the way). And here’s a tip: If you’re going to make a little, you might as well make a lot and toss the leftovers in the freezer.

Everyone makes a big production over roasting beets when the truth is that you can literally throw them in the oven—no foil, no nothing, totally naked—and let them do their thing. Combine those beautiful beets with lovely fresh herbs and you get a gorgeous salad with different flavors in every bite. Who knew beets could be so exciting?

I love this soup because it’s my favorite color and the garnishes bump up the fancy factor! It’s also totally seasonal—what could be more autumnal than a pretty pumpkin soup with spiced whipped cream and crispy leeks?

When soft-shell crabs are in season, it’s the one time of year I like being crabby! I adore these guys perched on a delicious veggie salad with garlic mayo. The beauty of the soft-shell crab is you can eat the whole shootin’ match—on a salad, in a sandwich, however. Who says being crabby isn’t fun?

I don’t think there’s anything terribly exciting about grilled scallops—but I do think you can put them together with interesting ingredients and make them exciting. That’s why I pair scallops with—wait for it—watermelon! I know, who would think of putting scallops with watermelon, let alone three kinds (watermelon, watermelon rind pickles, and watermelon radishes)? It may seem wacky, but the sweetness of the watermelon offset by the bitterness of the dandelion and the sharp red onion makes this a spectacular combo. And, if you’re thinking ahead (like we always try to do!), make the pickles a day (or a week) in advance and keep them in the fridge. These pickles make anything taste tangy and delicious; I keep a jar on hand for whenever a salad or sammie needs an extra little pickle-y punch!

Mussels are the unsung heroes of the shellfish world; they’re cheap, fast, and satisfying. (I wish more things in life were like this!) My favorite part of making a big pot of mussels is dipping a hunk of crusty bread in the broth. That’s why I add this lovely aïoli to the mix right before serving. This sexy sauce drips down into the mussel juice, giving it a spectacular flavor and the illusion that it’s a cream sauce. It’s super-dunkable!

I’m always looking for new things to do with calamari. It’s inexpensive, and if you buy it already cleaned—which I HIGHLY recommend—it’s super Q&E (quick and easy) to use. This recipe is fun because it takes minimum effort and you get maximum kudos at the dinner table.

This is not your ordinary bean dip. A lovely combo of beans, veggies, rosemary, and prosciutto makes this a simple but sophisticated twist on an old standby—and, while I recommend cooking your own beans, popping open a can instead is totally acceptable in a pinch.