Root Vegetable

You may be surprised to see that there is no stock or wine in this dish. I prefer to let the sausages and vegetables simmer in their own juices. The flavors blend and mellow a little, but still stay intense. The key to making really wonderful sausage and peppers is to caramelize each ingredient separately, then to pile them into a baking dish and finish them in the oven.

The sugar in the honey helps to caramelize the pork, onion, and pears as they oven-braise. It is a technique that works well with other roasted meats and birds as well. Just mix a little honey with the pan juices and baste or brush the roast with that during the last 10 minutes or so of roasting. For some dishes, you want the onions cut fine, so they almost disappear. Here, I cut the onions large—and the pears, too—so they keep their shape and don’t fall apart. Even when ripe, Bosc pears stay firmer than most, making them just right for this dish.

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.

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.

It isn’t hard to make featherlight gnocchi. The main thing to keep in mind is this: the less flour you add and the less you handle the dough, the lighter the gnocchi will be. The less moisture there is in the potatoes before you start adding flour, the less flour you will need, so the following tips for making light gnocchi all have to do with removing as much moisture from the potatoes as possible: Don’t overcook the potatoes—their skins will pop open and the flesh will soak up water. Rice the potatoes while they are still quite warm and steaming—rubber gloves help. Spread the riced potatoes out in a thin layer so the steam rising from them has a chance to escape. Once you form gnocchi, they must be cooked or frozen immediately or they turn to mush. To freeze them, pop the tray with the gnocchi on them right into the freezer. When they are solid, scrape them into a resealable plastic bag.

Traditionally, in Italian-American restaurants, garlic bread entailed lots of chopped garlic mixed with butter and a little oil. This version, struffinato—or rubbed—with a smashed garlic clove, is more subtle, and is the right match for the Arugula and White-Bean Salad (page 60) or the Escarole and White-Bean Soup (page 86).

Olive oil perfumed with garlic is a very handy thing to have in the kitchen. But it must be handled carefully: there is a slight chance that uncooked garlic that is steeped for too long in olive oil could be a breeding ground for the organism that causes botulism. However, if you handle the garlic and oil carefully—and don’t let it steep too long—the risk is virtually nonexistent. If you are concerned about botulism, make the infusion with blanched or roasted garlic. It might not be as pronounced, but you will still have the flavor of garlic-infused olive oil.

This, like bean- and potato-based soups, can be made ahead, but will thicken a lot. The best bet, if you plan to make the soup in advance, is to reheat it slowly, adding water or stock as needed to restore the soup to its original thickness. And always check the seasoning of reheated soups before you serve them.

Sprinkling the onions with salt as they cook not only seasons them, but extracts some of the water and intensifies their flavor. Keep the water hot before adding it to the soup, as described below, and you won’t interrupt the cooking—it will flow smoothly from start to end. Remember this when braising meats like the short ribs on page 218, or when making risotto. You can use the method outlined below—bringing the beans to a boil, then soaking them in hot water for an hour—anytime you want to cook beans without soaking them overnight, or anytime you’ve forgotten to soak them a day in advance. It works especially well here because, by soaking the pork along with the beans, you kill two birds with one stone. (I soak the dried or cured pork to remove some of the intense curing-and-smoking flavor. If you like it intense, just rinse the pork under cold water before adding it to the soup.)

Spaghettini is very similar to vermicelli, and both are somewhere between capellini and spaghetti when it comes to thickness. Because they cook quickly, it’s best to remove them from the boiling water when they are still undercooked, and to let them finish cooking in the sauce. I find this pasta very delicate but zesty and wouldn’t serve it with cheese. But if you love cheese in your pasta, have it.