ARUGULA, PEAR, AND GRANA PADANO SALAD
ASPARAGUS AND GOAT CHEESE FRITTATA WITH ARUGULA SALAD
CHEESE-FILLED ARTICHOKE BOTTOMS
PROSCIUTTO-WRAPPED FIGS WITH GOAT CHEESE
MY GRANDMOTHER’S FRIED EGGPLANT
CLAMS AND MUSSELS WITH CHERRY TOMATOES IN WHITE WINE BROTH
FRIED MIXED SEAFOOD WITH MARINARA SAUCE
The definition of an antipasto is something that comes before the pasta, but it is really anything that you would start the meal with. My mother’s artichokes filled with cheese and the figs wrapped in prosciutto are a couple of my favorite antipasti, perfect little bites to get you excited about your meal. With my seafood antipasti you will get a taste of the flavors you’d find on a trip along the Adriatic coast from Trieste to Venice, and if you close your eyes when you make the clams and mussels brodetto, you can think you are in a restaurant on the beach with your feet in the sand. My grandmother’s fried eggplant and sweet-and-sour sardines takes me back to her kitchen.
The antipasto sets the tone of your meal. When I eat at a restaurant, I try to make my food choices flow from one to the next: If I order a plate of raw fish for an appetizer, I most likely will choose a fish as my main course, but if I start with something heavier and more flavorful, I will certainly pick a meat dish as my secondo. I do the same when choosing menus to cook for my friends and when I compose my Dinners with Luca. In this chapter there’s something for every season and taste, all full of flavor and designed to lead you in to the next tasty dish as you build a multi course Italian dinner. Or simply enjoy them on their own!
ARUGULA, PEAR, AND GRANA PADANO SALAD
Insalata di Rucola, Pere e Grana Padano
This is something my mother would serve on a hot summer day. It’s a classic pairing of Italian ingredients and a great way to highlight first-of-season pears. It’s easy to put together, refreshing, light, and absolutely delicious.
1 1/2 teaspoons grated lemon zest
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup (60 ml) extra-virgin olive oil
1 large Bartlett pear, halved, cored, and very thinly sliced lengthwise
FIRST, WE’LL MAKE THE VINAIGRETTE:
Combine the lemon zest, lemon juice, mustard, salt, and pepper in a small bowl, then slowly add the oil and whisk until it’s incorporated.
In a large bowl, toss the arugula and pears together; add the vinaigrette and toss to coat.
Arrange the salad on a large oval serving plate with most of the arugula in the center and the pears scattered around the plate. Using a vegetable peeler, generously shave cheese over the top. Serve immediately.
Arugula: A Stand-Up Salad Green
You’ll notice that my salad recipes inevitably call for arugula. Well, what do you expect? I’m Italian! But more than that, to me, arugula, with its pungent, peppery flavor, has more personality than any other lettuce or mixed greens. I like a salad that does more than just show up; it should stand up to complement the main dish, and arugula never fails me, no matter what I serve it with.
ASPARAGUS AND GOAT CHEESE FRITTATA WITH ARUGULA SALAD
Frittata con Asparagi e Caprino con Rucola
When I got married, eggs became a much bigger deal in my life, especially for breakfast. Scrambled, sunny-side up, omelets, cheese-and-egg sandwiches; I’m sure you are all very familiar with these American morning favorites. But did you know that in Italy we almost never serve eggs for breakfast? A typical Italian breakfast is cereal with milk or coffee and cookies; when I’m back home in Aviano, Friuli, my favorite is a trip to the local pastry shop, Pasticceria da Stradella, for cappuccino with a chocolate croissant or a German-style cream- or chocolate-filled doughnut called krapfen, the kind without the hole in the middle. (At home in Astoria, I get mine at Gianpiero Bakery on 30th Avenue, which, back in the day, was a superfamous New York Italian street.)
Anyway, this recipe is not about breakfast or sweet treats, but rather about showing you how we like to use eggs in Italy. A frittata, an open-faced omelet or quiche without the crust, is one of our favorite ways to serve our eggs (and a frittata, made with tomatoes and potatoes, was what I made for my first MasterChef Mystery Box dish). I would not suggest making this recipe for breakfast; instead, serve it with a fresh, leafy salad for a simple and tasty lunch, which will be noticeably tastier if you seek out and use local and organic eggs.
½ bunch (about 7 ounces/200 g) asparagus, woody ends trimmed (see Note, this page)
½ cup (4 ounces/115 g) soft fresh goat cheese, crumbled
¼ cup (25 g) freshly grated Grana Padano
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
1 cup (150 g) cherry tomatoes, halved
½ red onion, very thinly sliced
½ cup (20 g) thinly sliced fresh basil leaves
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
FIRST, WE’LL MAKE THE FRITTATA:
Fill a large bowl with ice and water to make an ice bath. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add the asparagus and cook for about 3 minutes, until slightly softened and bright green in color. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the asparagus to the prepared ice bath. Let cool for a minute, then, using a slotted spoon, remove the asparagus and pat dry with a paper towel. Chop the asparagus.
Beat the eggs in a large bowl. Add the cream, goat cheese, Grana Padano, mustard, Sriracha, thyme, salt, and a nice amount of pepper and whisk to incorporate the ingredients.
Melt 2 tablespoons of the butter in a large nonstick pan over medium-high heat, swirling it so the butter coats the entire surface of the pan as well as the sides. Spread the asparagus in an even layer on the bottom of the pan, then pour the egg mixture over the asparagus. Cook for 3 minutes without touching it, then use a spatula to make a few holes in the bottom so any still-raw egg can get to the bottom of the pan. (This must be done up front, not later, because now is when you need to make a nice, even base for your frittata.) Reduce the heat to low, cover the pan, and cook for about 10 minutes, until the bottom is set. Once the bottom is set, it’s time to turn over your frittata. Place a large round plate upside down on top of the pan. Turn off the heat, then very rapidly invert the pan and the plate together so the frittata ends up on the plate.
Return the pan to the stove and melt the remaining 1 tablespoon butter, swirling it to coat the bottom of the pan. Slide the frittata back into the pan. Cover and cook until the second side is set, about 5 minutes.
Rinse the serving plate you used to flip the frittata, return the frittata to the plate, and cut the frittata into slices.
In a large bowl, combine the arugula, tomatoes, onions, and basil. In a small bowl, whisk the oil into the vinegar and season with salt and pepper. Toss the dressing into the salad and serve alongside the frittata slices.
You can make the frittata with any number of fillings, and it’s a great way to make use of leftover vegetables. I love mine with mushrooms, cooked as I do on this page; sausage and peppers, or spinach simply sautéed with garlic are also good options.
LUCA’S TIP: For a perfect frittata, you absolutely need a good nonstick pan and a bit of patience while the bottom cooks into a nice, even crust and the egg gently comes together until it is just set.
NOTE: Save the woody asparagus ends for making stock for the Asparagus and Lemon Risotto on this page.
CHEESE-FILLED ARTICHOKE BOTTOMS
Cuori di Carcioficon Formaggio
The last time I was back in Italy with my wife, Cate, it was artichoke season, and we were lucky enough to be served this dish at my mother’s table. Whenever I eat it, I’m reminded of the magical flavors my mother brings to the plate using the simplest of ingredients. Mom uses creamy, pale yellow Montasio cheese, which is typical of Friuli, but you can use any medium-soft, not-too-aged cheese such as Fontina, Fiore Sardo, Asiago, or even Caciotta.
At the produce markets in Italy, vendors will have artichoke bottoms prepped and ready for you to use. I’ve never seen this here in the States, so I guess you will have to learn how to clean an artichoke! But don’t worry; it’s not really all that difficult if you follow the directions I’ve given here. OK, maybe it is sort of a pain in the neck, and I know some of you are wondering how the heck you actually eat them, but after a few artichokes, you’ll learn fast. Then it becomes another easy recipe you have under your belt with a very tasty reward at the end of your labor.
1 tablespoon whole peppercorns (black, pink, or rainbow)
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ to ¾ cup (5 to 8 ounces/140 to 210 g) finely chopped Montasio cheese, or other medium-soft cheese
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
Preheat the oven to 400°F (205°C).
Fill a large bowl with water and squeeze in the juice from 1 of the lemons. Add the squeezed lemon halves, too. (This makes acidulated water into which we’ll toss the artichokes as they are prepped to keep them from oxidizing, or browning.)
Cut away the end of the stem of an artichoke, leaving about 1 inch (2.5 cm). Working from the bottom of the artichoke head and moving around and upward, grasp and break off the tough outer leaves to reveal the soft inner leaves. Grab these inner leaves and remove them, watching out for their sharp tips, to reveal the fuzzy choke (which is inedible; we’ll get to that in a minute). Trim away any outer leaves remaining by holding a paring knife at a 45-degree angle and turning the artichoke against the knife. The bottom should now be bare, smooth, and flat. Peel the stem and scoop out the fuzzy choke by inserting the tip of a paring knife just below the surface of the fuzzy layer and making small turns of the artichoke to slice off the choke (alternatively, you can scoop the choke out with a kitchen spoon). You’ll see a dimpled layer under the choke; scrape this off until a smooth white surface is revealed. Immediately place the artichoke in the lemon water, then repeat with the remaining artichokes.
Fill a medium saucepan with water and add the remaining 2 lemon halves, the peppercorns, garlic, and bay leaves and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Add the artichokes, reduce the heat to medium, and simmer for about 5 minutes, until tender. Lift out the artichokes and pat dry with paper towels.
Heat the oil in a large ovenproof sauté pan over medium-high heat. Season the artichokes with salt and pepper and place them stem-side up in the pan. Sear for about 2 minutes, until nicely colored. Flip the artichokes and sear for 2 minutes more, or until nicely colored on the second side. Pour the wine into the pan and turn off the heat.
Fill each artichoke bottom with 2 to 3 tablespoons of the Montasio, depending on the size of the artichoke. Don’t worry if it seems like a lot, because the cheese will melt down when you cook it. Sprinkle some Grana Padano on top of each artichoke. Place the pan in the oven and bake for 8 to 10 minutes, until the cheese starts to melt.
Transfer the artichokes to four individual plates and sprinkle evenly with the parsley. Drizzle some of the juices from the pan on top and serve.
Seared Artichokes: After you’ve cleaned and simmered the artichokes, instead of filling and baking them, simply chop and sear them in some olive oil in a screaming-hot pan until browned all over. Finish with a sprinkle of salt and pepper, fresh basil, a dusting of cheese, and a squeeze of lemon.
PROSCIUTTO-WRAPPED FIGS WITH GOAT CHEESE
Fichi con Prosciutto e Caprino
I’m crazy about figs—there are few things I enjoy more than eating a freshly picked fig. This fig mania comes from my father. When my parents bought a new house in Friuli more than ten years ago, my father completely redid the yard. The only trees he didn’t touch were the old cherry tree, the hazelnut tree, and the kiwi tree. As my mother was coming up with a wish list of flowers and plants for the garden, my father wanted just one thing: a fig tree. The first year, his fig tree grew super-fast but produced no fruit. The second year, it grew even more and gave us one fig. My father warned us: “No one is allowed to eat that fig. That’s my fig.”
Figs are one of the first signs that summer is almost over and we are heading into fall, my most anticipated food season of the year. There are three fig trees on the street on which I live in Astoria, Queens, and I am sorry, neighbors, but I’ve eaten every one of their figs since I moved in seven years ago.
The first time I ate figs wrapped with prosciutto was at a restaurant in Sydney, Australia, but it’s a classic recipe that you can find just about anywhere. The typical Italian version calls for Gorgonzola, but I find milder goat cheese gives a better balance and just the right amount of creaminess. Ask your butcher for very thin slices of prosciutto that are 7 to 8 inches (17 to 20 cm) long; if they are shorter, you may need a couple of slices per fig.
¼ cup (2 ounces/55 g) soft fresh goat cheese, at room temperature
12 very thin slices prosciutto di San Daniele or prosciutto di Parma
Extra-virgin olive oil for sautéing
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup (60 ml) extra-virgin olive oil
2 cups (300 g) cherry tomatoes, halved
Drizzle of Balsamic Glaze (this page)
Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C).
Cut the stems off the figs and cut them down the middle almost but not all the way through. Make an indentation in the middle of each fig half for the goat cheese to fit in nicely. Scoop 1 teaspoon of goat cheese, roll it with your fingers into a ball, and put it in the indentation you made in the fig. Close the fig. Do the same with the remaining figs. Wrap one slice of the prosciutto around each fig. Set aside on a plate.
Combine the vinegar, honey, mustard, garlic, Tabasco, salt, and pepper in a small bowl, then whisk in the oil until emulsified.
Drizzle just a little oil in a large sauté pan and heat it over medium-high heat until screaming hot. Add the figs (you may need to cook them in batches) and cook until crisp on all sides, turning the figs with tongs, about 4 minutes. The fat will render and the prosciutto will get crisp very quickly, so make sure you turn the figs before the prosciutto starts to burn. Transfer the pan to the oven and bake for 2 to 3 minutes, until sizzling hot all over.
WHILE THE FIGS ARE IN THE OVEN, WE’LL GET THE SALAD READY:
In a salad bowl, combine the mixed greens and tomatoes, add enough of the vinaigrette to coat, and toss.
Divide the salad among four plates, centering it in the middle, and arrange 3 figs per plate around the salad. Drizzle the figs with a little Balsamic Glaze, and serve.
Prosciutto-Wrapped Figs with Goat Cheese Sauce: Instead of filling the figs with goat cheese, make a sauce out of the goat cheese by melting it in a small saucepan with a little cream to thin it. Pour the sauce over the figs and serve the salad on the side.
MY GRANDMOTHER’S FRIED EGGPLANT
This recipe, a very easy tempura-style eggplant that makes the most of the flavor and texture of the vegetable, is a tribute to Nonna Anita. My grandmother would use large globe eggplants for slices as big as steaks; my preference is for baby eggplant or Italian eggplant for a sweeter, less-bitter flavor. Both will be winners if you follow the frying tips I’ve shared with you below.
1 pound (455 g) baby eggplant, Italian eggplant, or light purple eggplant
1 quart (960 ml) peanut or vegetable oil, for frying
1 tablespoon grappa (optional)
1 1/3 cups (165 g) all-purpose flour
Line a baking sheet with paper towels.
Take a vegetable peeler and run it in a circle around the bottom of the eggplant to remove the peel from the base of the eggplant. Leave about ½ inch (12 mm) of skin in place directly above the spot that you just peeled. Then run the peeler around the eggplant again above the unpeeled spot. Repeat, going up the eggplant, leaving you with a striped eggplant. Now take a knife and make ½ inch (12 mm) cuts the length of the eggplant to make half-peeled–half-unpeeled pieces of eggplant. Place the eggplant on the baking sheet and sprinkle with salt, cover with another layer of paper towels, place another baking sheet on top, and place a heavy object like a can of tomatoes on top to weight the eggplant. The salt and the weight will help release the water from the eggplant. Set aside for 2 hours.
Heat the oil in a deep-fryer or in a shallow saucepan over medium-high heat, until a deep-fry thermometer registers 350°C (175°C). Rinse and dry one of the baking sheets and line it with paper towels.
In a shallow bowl, whisk the eggs with the milk and grappa, if using. Add a pinch of salt, then gradually incorporate the flour, whisking the whole time.
Dip the eggplant slices in the batter one at a time, coating them on both sides and then lifting them a few inches above the bowl to drain excess batter. As each is coated, place it in the oil. Be especially careful with the first slice, as the oil may splash a bit.
If you are using a deep-fryer, take the basket out, then drop the eggplant slices directly in the oil, press them down into the oil with a spoon for 10 seconds, and then set the basket on top of them so they’ll be completely submerged in the oil. (If you’re using a saucepan, just add the eggplant slices directly to the oil.) Turn after 3 to 4 minutes; when they are golden brown all over, remove them from the oil using tongs or a slotted spoon and rest them on the lined baking sheet. Season with salt and pepper when still super-hot and serve immediately.
Many people are intimidated by frying, but it’s really not that hard to do at home. Here are some pointers to help you get the best results: Avoid overheating the oil—when the oil reaches the burning point, it begins releasing free radicals (not good!), so if you see smoke rising from the pot, carefully discard the oil and start all over again. One way to avoid smoking your oil is to make sure you have a light coating of flour on whatever you’re frying. Shake off all excess before it goes in to fry, as too much flour can make your oil burn. Equally important is bringing the oil back up to the frying temperature, in this case 350°C (175°C), between batches to keep each new addition just as crisp as the first.
You don’t often find scallops on the shell in restaurants in the States, so it’s an appetizer that I often order when I find myself in a seafood restaurant back home in Italy. This is a quick and easy recipe, but at the same time it’s elegant enough to serve to any discerning guest. You will need to buy fresh scallops in the shell for this dish, so call your fish market a few days in advance and ask them to order some for you.
Why thirteen scallops? I always make an extra one for tasting at the moment the timer rings, as scallops are something you want to get exactly right: medium-rare, translucent, meltingly tender. When you have it, stop right there and take them out of the oven. Leave them in any longer and they will be overcooked and rubbery, so be sure to stay close to the kitchen for those important twelve minutes!
13 medium scallops in the shell
⅓ cup (40 g) fine bread crumbs
3 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley, plus more for serving
3 tablespoons freshly grated Grana Padano, plus more for sprinkling
1 tablespoon finely grated lemon zest
¼ cup (60 ml) extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Preheat the oven to 400°F (205°C).
Before anything else, we’ll prep our scallops. Make sure all the scallops are tightly closed; if any are open, do not use them. Have a bowl of cold water ready, and line a plate with paper towels. With a clean dish towel, pick up a scallop and hold it in one hand. With the other hand, insert a paring knife or oyster knife, if you have the latter, into the front of the scallop shell, scraping along the top of the shell and turning the shell as you move the knife to open it. Carefully remove the top shell and discard it. Use a small spoon to gently scrape the scallop from the shell, setting the bottom shell aside. Gently tear off the membrane skirt from the scallop and place the scallop into the bowl of cold water to wash away any grit. Using your knife, remove the muscle from the side of the scallop. Place the scallop on the paper towel–lined plate and repeat with the remaining scallops. Rinse the reserved bottom shells very well in hot water and pat them dry with paper towels. Place the shells on a baking sheet and return the scallops to the shells.
To make a coating for the scallops, combine the bread crumbs, parsley, cheese, lemon zest, wine, garlic, oil, and salt and pepper in a food processor and process for about 1 minute, until the ingredients are well-incorporated.
Cover the scallops completely with the bread-crumb mixture, dividing it evenly among the shells. Sprinkle some extra cheese on top; it will give the topping a nice au gratin look. Bake for 12 minutes. Take one scallop out of the oven and cut it in half. You’re aiming for medium-rare, when the inside of the scallop is translucent. When you’re there, immediately remove the scallops from the oven. You may want to move the scallops to the broiler for the last minute to make sure they are nicely browned on top.
Arrange the scallops on four individual plates (be careful when you handle them, as the shells will be very hot), sprinkle some parsley on top, and serve.
When I’m not baking my scallops, I cook them as Chef Gordon Ramsay taught me. If you follow him at all, you know that he loves his scallops. You might remember the MasterChef challenge where Natasha had the assignment of making Chef Ramsay’s signature seared scallop salad with confit potatoes and black truffles—not an easy one to pull off (but she did an amazing job!). The secret to seared-scallop perfection is to cut the scallops in half, season them, and cook them in a drizzle of olive oil in a screaming hot pan for not even 2 minutes per side, until they are medium-rare and translucent inside, and then serve them as soon as they come out of the pan.
This is a classic Venetian dish going way back. There are references to it in novels from the 1300s and the eighteenth-century poetry of Carlo Goldoni, and it’s still wildly popular in twenty-first-century Venice, where you’ll often see sardines arranged in a glass bowl marinating on the counter of a wine bar. The name comes from the Venetian dialect and translates to “sardines in flavors”; a sweet-and-sour sauce is poured on top of fried sardines, and the sardines are left to marinate for several hours. The longer you marinate your sardines, the better they will taste, so be sure to plan your sarde in saor in advance.
This dish brings back memories of Nonna Anita, who used to prepare it all the time when I was growing up. She would remove the bones from the sardines with her fingers, fry the sardines, and leave them to marinate for what seemed like forever. Though I was never the biggest sardine fan, I always loved her sarde in saor—part of it must have been the anticipation of waiting for the moment Nonna gave the OK to dig in!
1 quart (960 ml) vegetable or peanut oil, for frying
12 whole fresh sardines, cleaned and deboned
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 large white onions, thinly sliced
¾ cup (110 g) golden raisins, soaked in water to cover for 30 minutes, then drained
2 cups (480 ml) apple-cider vinegar or white-wine vinegar
1 cup (40 g) finely chopped fresh parsley
In a deep-fryer or a shallow saucepan over medium-high heat, heat the vegetable or peanut oil until a deep-fry thermometer registers 375°C (190°C). Line a baking sheet with paper towels.
While the oil is heating up, season the sardines with salt and pepper and dust them with flour. Working in batches of four, gently place them in the oil, one at a time. Cook for 5 minutes, turning them once, until crisp. Remove them from the oil using a slotted spoon, lay them on the lined baking sheet, and immediately season them with salt. Season and fry the remaining sardines and set aside on the baking sheet.
In a medium saucepan, bring 2 cups (480 ml) water to a simmer. Adjust the heat as needed to maintain a simmer.
In a large sauté pan, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the onions, season them with salt (it’s best to salt them right away to get their moisture out), and cook until they have begun to caramelize and are just a tiny bit burned in places (don’t be afraid of a little char— this adds a lot of flavor!), about 20 minutes. When the pan gets very dry, add enough of the hot water to cover the onions, and stir to release the browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Keep on cooking, adding more water as needed, for about 10 minutes, until the onions are very soft.
Stir in the raisins and nuts, then add the sugar and vinegar and stir constantly until the sugar has dissolved, about 5 minutes, adding more hot water if the mixture starts to stick to the pan. Give it a taste and add some salt, if needed—remember, we are going for a good balance of sweet and sour. Remove from the heat and let cool completely.
Coat a small glass casserole dish with a thin layer of the onion mixture, then add a layer of 4 sardines. Continue layering the remaining onions and sardines, finishing with a layer of onions. Cover and refrigerate for at least 8 hours or overnight. Remove from the refrigerator about 1 hour before serving to bring the sardines to room temperature; sprinkle with the parsley just before serving.
The sardines are great served on toasted baguette slices as crostini. If you visit Venice’s wine bars, you will find them everywhere!
LUCA’S TIP: If possible, ask your fish market to clean and debone the sardines for you. If not, it is very easy for any home cook to do: Cut the sardines in half lengthwise, rinse them well, and, using a small knife, cut around the spine and pull it out with your fingers, and open up the sardines like a book.
CLAMS AND MUSSELS WITH CHERRY TOMATOES IN WHITE WINE BROTH
Cozze e Vongole al Vino Bianco
This is one of my favorite seafood appetizers, one we’ll always order back home on the Adriatic coast after a long day at the beach. The recipe gives instructions for plating into individual serving bowls, but it also could be served in one big bowl, family-style, for everyone to hungrily dig into.
I confess, my favorite thing about the dish is the bread. I hurry to eat all the seafood so I can get to the broth-soaked crostini at the bottom of the bowl, and when that’s devoured, I start dipping in more and more bread until all the broth is gone. When I’m finished, I feel like I’ve eaten three bowls of pasta and am about to blow up! (If I want to lighten things up, I’ll just drink the rest of the broth from the bowl.) At home, be sure the mussels and clams are completely cleaned of sand; a mouthful of sand as you slurp up the juices can turn one of the best possible appetizers into one of the worst!
Bring out the largest pot you have for making this dish, as you’ll need plenty of room for the mussel and clam shells to open as they cook. For the wine, I like a nice pinot grigio, chardonnay, or Tocai Friulano from my native Friuli region—finish the bottle at the table or sip it stove-side to get the party rolling before you’ve left the kitchen.
10 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
2 cups (480 ml) fish stock, homemade (this page) or good-quality store-bought
2 cups (480 ml) dry white wine
2 pounds (900 g) small fresh clams, cleaned (see this page)
2 pounds (910 g) mussels, cleaned and debearded (this page)
2 cups (300 g) red cherry tomatoes, halved
2 cups (300 g) yellow cherry tomatoes, halved
1 tablespoon red pepper flakes (optional)
1 cup (40 g) chopped fresh parsley, plus more for serving
Slice the bread on the diagonal into 4-inch-wide (10-cm) by ½-inch-thick (12-mm) slices. You will need at least 48 slices of bread (4 per serving), and you’ll have plenty of extra for sopping up the juices.
In a large sauté pan, heat 1 tablespoon of oil over medium-high heat. Arrange 8 slices of bread in the pan and toast them for about 4 minutes, until golden brown and crisp. Sprinkle another tablespoon of oil over top of the bread slices, then flip them and toast until golden brown and crisp on the second side, about 4 minutes more. The idea is to soak the bread in olive oil, then crisp it up on the outside so the bread is crunchy outside and nice and moist inside. Repeat with the remaining bread slices, 8 at a time. Set the toasted bread aside on a plate.
Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the garlic and cook for about 5 minutes, until golden brown, stirring often so it doesn’t burn. Raise the heat to high, add the stock, wine, clams, mussels, tomatoes, and red pepper flakes, if using, and bring to a boil. Cover and cook until the clams and mussels open, about 5 minutes, shaking the pan often (you may need to stir a couple of times to make sure you rotate all the clams and mussels from the bottom of the pan with the ones on top). Take care not to overcook, which will make the clams and mussels rubbery, and be sure to discard any mussels or clams that don’t open. Add the parsley, season with pepper, then taste the broth and season with salt, as needed.
Place 2 slices of bread on the bottom of each of eight shallow bowls. Spoon some clams, mussels, tomatoes, and broth into the bowls. Top each serving with 2 more slices of bread and a sprinkle of parsley. Serve any extra bread alongside.
Spaghetti alla Pescatora: Cook the clams and mussels as above; when they have opened, remove them from the pan and set them aside in a bowl. Cook a box of spaghetti, and while it is still al dente, use tongs to transfer the spaghetti directly to the broth, tossing it well and cooking it for a couple of minutes to let it soak up some of the broth. Add a little more parsley, then place the clams and mussels on the bottom of the serving plates, top with the spaghetti, and serve.
LUCA’S TIPS: I personally love to eat cooked whole garlic cloves (you may have noticed the generous amounts I’ve used in my recipes so far!), but some people don’t. If this is the case for you and your guests, use the cloves for flavoring and remove them before serving.
I like to use Vongole Veraci clams imported from Italy—they are on the small side and have a great flavor—but any variety will be fantastic here.
Nowadays, many varieties of clams and mussels you buy at the fish market are farmed and do not need to be cleaned of sand, just quickly scrubbed and rinsed. If your shellfish is wild and needs cleaning, soak it in water to cover for about an hour, drain, and repeat once or twice until all the sand is removed, then scrub the outside with steel wool, pull off any beards that are attached to the mussels (the beards are what the mussels used to cling to the rocks in the water, so they can take a little work to pry off), and you’re good to go.
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 fish heads and bones (get these from your fish market when you buy a whole fish for filleting)
1 whole leek, cleaned well and roughly chopped
1 large white onion, cut into chunks
2 celery stalks, roughly chopped
2 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
Makes about 2 1/2 quarts (2.5 L)
Heat the oil in a large stockpot over medium heat. Add the fish heads and bones and cook for 5 minutes, then add the leeks, onions, celery, carrots, and garlic and cook, stirring, for 5 minutes to soften the vegetables slightly and bring out the flavors of the aromatics. Add 2 1/2 quarts (2.5 L) water, bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer, uncovered, for 5 minutes. Skim off and discard any foam that rises to the surface. Reduce the heat to low, cover with foil, and cook at a bare simmer for 1 hour.
Strain the stock through a fine-mesh strainer into a large container. Discard the solids left in the strainer. If you’re not using the stock right away, let it cool completely, then refrigerate until ready to use. It will keep for up to 3 days.
FRIED MIXED SEAFOOD WITH MARINARA SAUCE
Fritto Misto con Salsa alla Marinara
I’d never been a big fan of fried food, but in the past few years, I’ve discovered just how good fried food can be when it’s done right, and nothing demonstrates the art of frying better than a good Italian fritto misto (see this page for tips on perfecting your frying). It’s a dish you’d eat on the Adriatic coast and all over Italy, and I can’t count how many plates of fritto misto I’ve served in the past decade working in Italian restaurants here in the States. It’s a family-style dish—no need to worry about individual plating. Here I use squid, but you can also use shrimp, octopus, or even lobster, adjusting the frying time, as needed. I use the whitebait that are readily found all over the Adriatic coast, which in my region are called bianchetti, or “small white.” If you can’t find whitebait, you can use the smallest sardines available at the fish market or smelt.
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 (14.5-ounce/415-g) can chopped San Marzano tomatoes (with juice)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
10 fresh basil leaves, julienned
1 quart (960 ml) vegetable or peanut oil, for frying
14 ounces (400 g) fresh squid, cleaned
All-purpose flour, rice flour, or semolina flour
10 ounces (280 g) whitebait, very small sardines, or smelt, rinsed
¼ cup (10 g) chopped fresh parsley
Heat the olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook until lightly browned, about 2 minutes. Add 1 tablespoon water and let it sizzle. Add the tomatoes (with juice) and cook for 5 minutes. If the sauce is too thick, add a little water. Season with salt and pepper and remove from the heat. Add the basil. Set aside until ready to serve. Reheat just before serving.
In a deep-fryer or in a shallow saucepan over medium-high heat, heat the vegetable or peanut oil until a deep-fry thermometer registers 375°F (190°C). Line three baking sheets with paper towels.
While the oil is heating, prep the ingredients for frying. Rinse the squid and cut them in ½-inch (12-mm) rings. Put them in a bowl and pour in enough milk to cover them completely. This will help tenderize the squid. (You could do this several hours or even a day in advance; cover and refrigerate the squid in the milk until you’re ready to fry.) Cut the potatoes into ⅛-inch (3-mm) slices.
Add the potatoes to the hot oil in batches and fry for 4 minutes, transferring each batch to one of the baking sheets with a slotted spoon and letting the oil come back up to temperature before adding the next batch. Repeat until all the potatoes have been fried.
Put some flour in a shallow bowl and season it with salt. Drain the milk from the squid rings and dredge the rings in the flour, shaking off any excess. It is important to start cooking the squid right after you dust them; otherwise they’ll stick together. Place the squid in the oil in batches, adding them one at a time and making sure not to overcrowd the oil, and fry for about 5 minutes, until golden brown and crisp. Transfer each batch to one of the baking sheets with a slotted spoon and let the oil come back up to temperature before adding the next batch. Heavily salt the squid. Repeat until all the squid has been fried.
Dust the whitebait, sardines, or smelt in the flour, shaking off any excess, and place them in the oil in batches, adding them one at a time and making sure not to overcrowd the oil. Fry for about 5 minutes, until golden brown and crisp. Transfer each batch to one of the baking sheets with a slotted spoon and let the oil come back up to temperature before adding the next batch. Heavily salt the fish. Repeat until all the fish has been fried.
Working in batches, fry the potatoes a second time, until golden brown and crisp, about 4 minutes. As they are ready, return them to the baking sheet (you might want to set up a fresh layer of paper towels), pat off the excess oil from the top with paper towels, and heavily salt them. Let the oil come back to temperature before you add the next batch of potatoes.
Arrange the seafood and potatoes on a large oval plate and sprinkle with the parsley. Serve with the marinara sauce and the lemon wedges alongside.
The MasterChef Calamari Challenge pitted three contestants, Krissi, James, and Bri, against one another for the best fried squid. As I watched from upstairs, the first thing I saw they were doing wrong was adding eggs to the calamari batter.
Remember this: Italian fritto misto uses just flour, nothing else! If you see recipes for fried seafood that call for eggs, beer, or whatever else, that’s a tempura batter, not a classic Italian fritto misto. The Italian way of frying seafood is about simplicity and elevating its natural flavor, not covering it up, so plain and simple flour, be it all-purpose flour, rice flour, or semolina for a little extra crunch, is, to me, the surest way to perfectly fry squid.
