Stuffed Artichokes
Italians love their artichokes in a thousand ways, and stuffed with seasoned bread crumbs is a favorite. This recipe is an Italian American rendition, much richer and with more stuffing and ingredients than the one found in Italy. It was often an appetizer on the menu of Italian American restaurants in the 1950s, ’60s, and ’70s, and most likely the first way that many Americans tasted artichokes Italian-style. And I am sure the charm of it was the discovery of how to eat this curious thistle with not much pulp but lots of flavor.
SERVES 6
Juice from 2 lemons
Zest of 1 lemon
6 large artichokes
1½ cups fine dry bread crumbs
½ cup grated Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano
½ cup toasted pine nuts, coarsely chopped
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons chopped fresh Italian parsley
½ cup plus 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 large hard-boiled eggs, finely chopped
¾ teaspoon kosher salt
1 cup dry white wine
⅛ teaspoon peperoncino
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Zest one of the lemons, and set aside.
Clean and prepare the artichokes for stuffing as detailed.
For the stuffing: Mix together the bread crumbs, grated cheese, and pine nuts in a bowl. Stir in ½ cup of the parsley, ½ cup of the olive oil, the eggs, ¼ teaspoon salt, and the reserved lemon zest. Toss with a fork until all the crumbs are moistened with the olive oil.
Remove the cleaned artichokes from the water, and drain them upside down on a kitchen towel. Spread the leaves of an artichoke open, and fill the center with stuffing. Continue to work outward, sprinkling and packing stuffing into the rows of leaves as you separate them. Put the artichoke in a baking dish that will hold all six snugly. Repeat with the remaining artichokes.
Pour the wine and 1 cup water around the artichokes in the baking dish, and add the lemon juice and artichoke stems. Season the liquid with the remaining salt and the peperoncino. Drizzle the remaining 3 tablespoons of olive oil over the artichokes. Tent the dish with foil and bake for about 30 minutes. Uncover, and bake until the artichokes are tender all the way through and the crumbs are browned and crusty, about 20 to 30 minutes more (depending on the size and toughness of your artichokes). If the cooking juices are too thin, pour them into a small pot and boil for a few minutes to reduce. Stir in the remaining 2 tablespoons of chopped parsley. Serve the artichokes in shallow soup plates, topped with the cooking juices.
Stuffed Tomatoes, Fried Zucchini, Stuffed Artichokes, and Meat-Stuffed Eggplant
You might be used to breaded and fried zucchini cut in French-fry fashion, but when my mother fried zucchini, she would always cut them in rounds or slices. I liked them that way: they made great sandwich stuffers, especially when the flavors and moistness of the zucchini seeped into the bread. For over-the-top flavor, add a few slices of Swiss cheese and melt under the broiler or in a sandwich press. The perfect Italian lunch.
SERVES 6 TO 8
Vegetable oil, for frying
4 large eggs
Kosher salt
2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint
2 cups all-purpose flour
3 cups fine dry bread crumbs
1 cup grated Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano
2 pounds medium zucchini, sliced into ¼-to-½-inch-thick rounds on the bias (see note)
NOTE Cut slices ¼ inch thick if you like crispier slices, or ½ inch thick if you like meatier slices.
Heat 1 inch of the vegetable oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Beat the eggs in a bowl with a pinch of salt, and stir in the mint. Put the flour in one shallow bowl, and mix the bread crumbs and grated cheese in another.
Dredge the zucchini, in batches, in the flour, then the egg, then the bread crumbs, shaking off the excess. Let the rounds rest on sheet trays while you finish all of the zucchini. When the oil reaches about 365 degrees (or when a piece of zucchini sizzles on contact), slip a batch of zucchini into the oil. Fry, turning occasionally, until crisp and golden all over, about 2 minutes. Drain the zucchini on paper towels, and season with salt. Let the oil return to temperature between batches, and repeat with the remaining zucchini, seasoning with salt as soon as they come out of the oil.
Italians will stuff anything, but when it comes to a nice summer tomato, this is the recipe. It is good just out of the oven, and delicious at room temperature. Wonderful as an appetizer, a vegetable, and also a main course, this dish is popular at Italian family gatherings and festivities, and it looks great on the buffet table.
SERVES 8
1¼ teaspoons kosher salt
2 fresh bay leaves, or 3 dried bay leaves
¾ cup Arborio rice
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
8 firm-ripe medium tomatoes
¾ cup fresh mozzarella cut into small cubes
2 ounces ham, cut into small cubes
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons grated Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano
10 large fresh basil leaves, chopped
½ teaspoon dried oregano
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
Bring 2 cups water with ½ teaspoon of the salt and the bay leaves to a boil in a small pot. Stir in the rice and 1 tablespoon of the olive oil. Bring to a simmer, and cook, uncovered, until rice is al dente and liquid is almost all gone, about 10 minutes. Scrape into a bowl to cool.
Remove any stems and leaves from the tomatoes, then slice off the tops and set them aside. Scoop out only the inner center flesh and seeds of the tomatoes with a spoon, leaving an outer flesh shell intact. As you work, put the scooped-out flesh in a strainer set over a bowl, to collect the juices. Once all of the tomatoes are scooped out, season the insides of the tomatoes with ½ teaspoon of the salt.
Chop the strained tomato flesh, and put in the bowl with the rice. Add the mozzarella, ham, ½ cup of the grated cheese, the basil, the oregano, and the remaining ¼ teaspoon salt to the bowl. Toss to combine.
Pour the reserved tomato juices into the bottom of a 9-by-13-inch baking dish. Spoon the stuffing evenly into the tomatoes. Arrange the reserved tomato tops, cut side down, in the baking dish, and place a stuffed tomato on each top, so it is being held up as if on a pedestal. Depending on the size of your tomatoes, you may have a little leftover stuffing; if so, roll it into “meatballs” and place in the open spaces of the baking dish. Drizzle the tomatoes with the remaining tablespoon of olive oil, and sprinkle the tops with the remaining grated cheese. Bake until tomatoes are soft and juicy and stuffing is browned on top, about 20 to 25 minutes.
What makes this dish truly good is the old bread soaked in milk. Not only is it flavorful and mellow, but the traditions are steeped in preserving and respecting food: waste not, want not. It makes for a great vegetarian main course. With some old bread and whatever was growing in the garden, the Italian immigrants could make a delicious meal.
SERVES 8 OR MORE AS AN APPETIZER, OR 6 AS A MAIN COURSE
4 cups 1-inch cubes of day-old country bread
1½ cups milk
3 medium zucchini
3 large stalks celery, peeled
2 red bell peppers
2 sweet onions, such as Vidalia or Walla Walla
1 cup finely chopped scallions (about 1 small bunch)
2 cups grated Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano
4 ounces provola, cut into small cubes
½ cup chopped fresh Italian parsley
1 tablespoon kosher salt
10 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Pour the milk over the bread in a bowl, and let sit for 20 minutes, pressing the bread into the milk.
Prepare the vegetables for stuffing: Halve the zucchini crosswise, then lengthwise, to make twelve pieces. Scoop out the centers to make “boats.” Finely chop the scooped-out centers, and put them in a large bowl. Cut the celery stalks into 4-inch lengths. Cut each bell pepper into four segments, at the natural breaks in the ribs, and remove stems and seeds. Peel onions, halve them crosswise, then cut each in half crosswise again, to get eight rings in all. Remove the inner pieces of onion, to make onion boats. Set the boats aside, and chop and reserve the smaller inner parts of the onions.
Squeeze the excess milk from the bread. Combine the bread with the chopped zucchini. Add the scallions, 1 cup of the grated cheese, the provola, the parsley, and 1 teaspoon of the salt. Mix well.
Season the vegetables to be stuffed with ¼ cup olive oil and the remaining 2 teaspoons salt. Brush two large baking dishes with 3 tablespoons olive oil each. Scatter the chopped onion in the bottom of the baking dishes. Fill the vegetables with the stuffing, and put the stuffed zucchini and peppers in one dish, the onions and celery in another. Sprinkle the tops of the vegetables with the remaining 1 cup grated cheese. Cover the baking dishes with foil, and bake until the vegetables release their juices and are almost tender, about 30 minutes. Uncover, and bake until vegetables are tender and the stuffing is browned and crispy, about 30 minutes more. (The peppers and zucchini may be done before the onions and celery; check them after 20 minutes.) Serve warm or at room temperature.
Italians love the chicory family of vegetables, of which escarole is a member. Escarole was one of the abundant leafy green vegetables that they could readily find in the States. Today it has fallen out of favor, but when I opened Buonavia, my first restaurant, in 1971, we were cooking escarole by the bushel. We served it in soups, braised with garlic and oil as a side dish, in salads, and for an appetizer; or we would stuff it, as in the recipe below. In Italy, stuffed greens served with beans would often have been the whole meal, not just a side.
SERVES 4 TO 6
1 large head escarole
3 cups cubes of day-old country bread
2 garlic cloves, crushed and peeled
7 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
¼ cup chopped oil-cured black olives
½ cup finely shredded provola
3 tablespoons drained tiny capers in brine
3 tablespoons toasted pine nuts
½ teaspoon dried oregano
¼ teaspoon kosher salt
½ cup grated Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.
Bring a large pot of water to boil for blanching the escarole. Separate the escarole into leaves, and blanch in the boiling water until the leaves are limp, about 2 minutes. Remove the leaves with tongs, reserving the cooking water. Cool the leaves in ice water, and pat dry. Set aside the twelve largest leaves (or combine two smaller leaves to make one large one if necessary) for stuffing, and chop the rest of the escarole. Squeeze any excess water from the chopped escarole and set aside.
Pour about 2 cups of the hot escarole cooking water over the bread cubes in a bowl. Let soak for a few minutes, then strain the bread. (Weight the top of the strainer with a bowl and some heavy cans, and let the bread drain and cool.)
Cook the garlic with 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a small skillet over medium-high heat. Once the garlic is sizzling, add the chopped escarole, and sauté for a few minutes to cook off any residual moisture, then add the olives. Cook and toss a few minutes, then transfer to a large bowl to cool slightly.
When the escarole has cooled, add the soaked, drained bread, the provola, capers, pine nuts, and oregano, and stir to combine. Spread the twelve escarole leaves flat on your work surface. Place the stem part of one flattened leaf closest to you, and evenly distribute the filling among the leaves, spreading the filling out on the leaf but leaving an inch or so of border all around. Fold the sides in over the bowl, then begin rolling from the side closer to you till you have rolled it up completely. Flip the tip of the leaf up snugly around to make a tightly stuffed escarole roll. Repeat with the remaining leaves. Brush a 9-by-13-inch baking dish with 3 tablespoons olive oil, and arrange the rolls, seam side down, in the dish. Sprinkle the tops of the rolls with the salt and grated cheese. Drizzle the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil over all. Cover the baking dish with foil, and bake 20 minutes. Uncover, and bake until the tops of the rolls are browned and crusty, about 15 minutes.
To salt or not salt the water, that is the question. I used to boil vegetables in salted water, but I found that if I boiled them in unsalted water they would retain more of their natural flavors. After draining them, but while they are still steaming hot, I toss them with some coarse salt, to enhance their natural goodness. Does it really make a difference? Indeed it does.
Instead of making a saline solution out of the boiling water, which permeates the vegetable throughout, salting later allows the vegetable to retain its pure flavor. In addition, the sprinkled salt adds another dimension by seeping into the vegetable while it is still hot.
While the word parmigiana literally means “from Parma,” a town in northern Italy, this dish is clearly Sicilian in origin. Here you have the traditional eggplant-parmigiana recipe that everyone loves. This versatile dish can be made in advance and baked when your guests arrive. It reheats well as a leftover and makes a great sandwich as well. In Italy, sometimes it is not even baked, but assembled with sauce and a generous sprinkling of grated Grana Padano, eliminating the mozzarella, and eaten straightaway. And at Roberto’s, on Arthur Avenue in the Bronx, I found alternating layers of eggplant and zucchini—delicious.
SERVES 8
2½ pounds medium-size, firm eggplant, sliced lengthwise ½ inch thick
1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons kosher salt
3 cups dry bread crumbs
4 cups grated Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
4 large eggs
½ cup milk
1½ cups all-purpose flour, for dredging
3 garlic cloves, crushed and peeled
14 ounces fresh spinach, washed and trimmed
5 cups marinara sauce
1 pound low-moisture mozzarella, shredded
Salt the eggplant slices all over with 1 tablespoon kosher salt. Layer them in a large colander set in the sink. Lay a plate over the eggplant and weight it down with cans to help press out excess liquid. Let drain about ½ hour, then rinse and pat dry.
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Toss together the bread crumbs, 2 cups of the grated cheese, and 1 cup of the olive oil in a large shallow bowl. Season with ½ teaspoon salt. Beat the eggs and milk with a pinch of salt in another shallow bowl. Spread the flour on a plate.
Dredge the eggplant slices in flour, then the eggs, then the bread crumbs, pressing the crumbs in to make sure they adhere. Lay the eggplant slices on parchment-lined baking sheets, making sure they are not touching. Place in the oven, and bake the eggplant, rotating the sheets halfway through baking, until it is cooked through and the crumbs are crisp and golden, about 25 minutes. Remove, and let cool slightly.
Heat the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the crushed garlic, and sauté until just golden, about 1 to 2 minutes. Toss in the spinach with any water clinging to the leaves, season with remaining salt, then cover and cook until wilted, about 3 to 4 minutes. Check occasionally to make sure the bottom of the pan is not dry, adding water a tablespoon at a time if necessary. Once the spinach is wilted, uncover, and cook until spinach is tender and excess water is gone, about 4 minutes.
To assemble the eggplant: Spread ³⁄₄ cup of the marinara sauce in the bottom of a 10-by-15-inch baking dish. Make a layer of half of the baked eggplant in the dish. Spread 1 cup of the marinara sauce over it, and sprinkle on ½ cup of the grated Grana Padano and half the shredded mozzarella; spread all of the spinach in one layer on top. Cover with 2 more cups marinara, and sprinkle on the remaining shredded mozzarella and ½ cup grated Grana Padano. Top with an even layer of the remaining eggplant. Spread the remaining sauce on top, and sprinkle with the remaining grated Grana Padano. Tent the baking dish with foil so it is not touching the cheese, and bake until bubbly, about 30 minutes. Uncover, and bake until the cheese is browned and crusty and sauce is bubbling all over, another 15 minutes. Let cool and set 5 to 10 minutes before cutting and serving.
Ripe and ready for picking—deep purple eggplants at the Maugeri farm in Swedesboro, New Jersey
Potato croquettes are not served much in Italy, except around Rome. When I first began working in Italian American restaurants, potato croquettes were always paired with a vegetable as a side dish. I grew fond of the dish, I guess, because it combines two things Americans love: mashed potatoes and fried things.
MAKES ABOUT 24 CROQUETTES
2 pounds Yukon Gold potatoes
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
½ cup finely diced prosciutto
4 large eggs
1 cup grated Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
1½ teaspoons kosher salt, plus more as needed
¼ cup whole milk
1 cup all-purpose flour, for dredging
1 cup fine dry bread crumbs
¼ cup sesame seeds
Vegetable oil, for frying
Put the unpeeled potatoes in a saucepan with water to cover by an inch. Bring to a simmer, and cook until tender, about 20 to 35 minutes, depending on the size of the potatoes. Drain, and when cool enough to handle, peel, and pass the potatoes through a ricer into a large bowl.
Heat the olive oil in a small skillet over medium heat, and toss in the diced prosciutto. Sauté the prosciutto until the fat is rendered and the prosciutto is slightly crisp, about 3 to 4 minutes. Remove from heat, and let the prosciutto cool, then add to the bowl with the potatoes. Beat one egg and add, plus the grated cheese, parsley, and 1½ teaspoons salt.
Using about 3 tablespoons per croquette, form the potato mixture into twenty-four 2-inch cylinders, and place on a baking sheet lined with parchment. Refrigerate the potato mixture until firm, about ½ hour.
Whisk together the remaining eggs and the milk in a wide, shallow bowl. Spread the flour on a plate, and mix the bread crumbs and sesame seeds on another plate. Season each dish with salt. Working in batches, dredge the croquettes in flour to coat them lightly, and tap off the excess. Dip the croquettes into the eggs, turning well to coat evenly. Let the excess egg drip back into the bowl, then dredge the croquettes in bread crumbs. Turn to coat all sides well, pressing gently with your hands until the bread crumbs adhere. For easier frying, refrigerate ½ hour after breading.
When you are ready to fry, heat ½ inch vegetable oil in a large skillet over medium heat; it is ready for frying when the end of a croquette sizzles. Fry the croquettes in batches, turning on all sides, until golden, about 2 to 3 minutes per batch. Drain on paper towels, seasoning with salt while still hot. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Italians love fennel, finocchio, but Americans are just getting familiar with it. It is terrific raw, and in Piedmont is dipped raw into hot oil with anchovies. It is also great served solo as a braised vegetable. I love the hint of anise flavor in it, as well as the crunchy crack under my teeth when I eat it raw as a snack. The crumbled sausages make this a very flavorful vegetable dish that can also be used to dress pasta. It can be made in advance, keeps well, and reheats well. What more could you ask of a vegetable?
SERVES 4 TO 6
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, sliced ¼ inch thick
8 ounces sweet Italian sausage without fennel seeds, removed from casing
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2 medium fennel bulbs, trimmed, cored, cut into 1-inch chunks
1 teaspoon kosher salt
Pinch peperoncino flakes
Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot, sauté the onion and sausage, crumbling the sausage with the back of a wooden spoon, until the meat is no longer pink, about 3 to 4 minutes.
Push the sausage and onion to the sides of the pan to create a clear spot in the center, and plop in the tomato paste. Let the tomato paste toast for a minute or two, then stir it into the vegetables. Toss in the fennel, and season with the salt and peperoncino. Lower the heat, cover the skillet, and cook, stirring occasionally, until the fennel is tender and caramelized, about 15 to 20 minutes. Uncover, and increase the heat to cook away any excess liquid in the pan, if necessary.
I recall having a version of this dish in Greece, and I am sure the Greeks brought it to Sicily, and I am sure the Sicilians brought it to America. I have found it at weddings and on the menus of Italian restaurants across America. It is a great dish for a large party and for a buffet table. I like it best hot out of the oven, but it is also good at room temperature. “Eggplant” is a misnomer: the vegetable is neither white nor shaped like an egg. However, the first eggplants to arrive in Europe were a rare oval-shaped white variety, and the name stuck. When buying eggplants, look for even color and firm feel. The eggplant should be heavy relative to its size; when you pick it up at the market, it should be firm and crisp, not spongy, to the touch.
SERVES 6
6 small eggplants (about 2 pounds total)
½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 pound ground beef
⅓ cup dry white wine
1 red bell pepper, finely chopped
2 teaspoons kosher salt
2 cups cubes of day-old country bread
1 cup milk
1 cup grated Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano
½ cup chopped fresh Italian parsley
1 hard-boiled egg, chopped
2 plum tomatoes, seeded and chopped
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
Cut the eggplants in half lengthwise. Scoop out the flesh to make a shell about ½ to 1 inch thick. Finely chop the flesh and set aside.
Heat 4 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Toss in the onion, and cook until it begins to soften, about 3 to 4 minutes. Crumble in the ground beef, and pour the wine over the meat. Cook, breaking up the beef with the back of a wooden spoon, until the meat releases its juices and they then cook away, about 6 or 7 minutes. Add the bell pepper and chopped eggplant, and season with 1 teaspoon of the salt. Cover, and cook until the vegetables are tender, about 10 minutes. Scrape into a bowl to cool.
Pour the milk over the bread cubes in a small bowl. Once the bread has softened, squeeze out the excess milk and put the bread in the bowl with the cooled meat filling. Add the grated cheese, parsley, egg, and tomatoes, and mix well.
Put the eggplant halves in a large baking dish, and drizzle with the remaining 4 tablespoons oil. Sprinkle with the remaining teaspoon salt, and toss well to coat all of the eggplant with the oil. Fill the eggplant halves with the filling, and arrange snugly in the baking dish. Cover the dish with foil, and bake until the eggplant is tender all the way through, about 40 to 45 minutes. Uncover, and bake until the top of the filling is browned and crispy, about 10 minutes more.
SERVES 4
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
6 garlic cloves, sliced
2 anchovies, chopped
1 large head broccoli, cut into 1½-inch florets
¼ teaspoon peperoncino flakes
¼ teaspoon kosher salt
Heat the olive oil in a large straight-sided skillet over medium-high heat. Toss in the garlic; once the garlic is sizzling, add the anchovies. Cook and stir until the anchovies dissolve and sizzle in the oil, about 1 to 2 minutes.
Add the broccoli to the skillet, and season with the peperoncino and salt. Pour ½ cup of water into the skillet, bring to a simmer, cover, and cook until the broccoli is tender, about 4 to 5 minutes. Remove the lid, and increase heat to high to boil away any excess liquid. Serve.
Fresh garlic just harvested at LJB Farms in San Martin, California
I found versions of this dish on menus across America, Italian and non-Italian. I guess everybody loves its appealing flavors. It is delicious made with frozen peas, but when I was a child, my grandma made it only with the sweetest first pods of peas. I also remember that it was my job to shell them, and I ate quite a few of those raw peas.
Pancetta is pork belly cured with salt, pepper, and other seasonings, then made into a roll, but not smoked like bacon. You can substitute bacon or Canadian bacon for the pancetta, and substitute fresh peas for frozen.
SERVES 4
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 ounces pancetta, finely chopped
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 pound frozen peas, thawed, or 1 pound fresh peas blanched for 5 minutes
¼ cup pine nuts, toasted
Combine the olive oil, pancetta, and onion in a large skillet over medium heat. Cook until the pancetta fat is rendered, about 5 to 7 minutes.
Pour in the peas. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion and peas are tender and flavored with the pancetta. Stir in the pine nuts. Cook and toss for a minute, then serve.
Sautéed Escarole
Escarole is a big ingredient in the Italian American pantry, so one will see it frequently on an Italian American table. Escarole has always been abundant in American markets, whereas the dark-green vegetables such as chicory and broccoli rabe made their appearance much later. The usual recipe for sautéed escarole is scarola strascinata, “dragged” in the pan with garlic and oil. In this rendition, the addition of anchovies and black olives makes it more festive and gives the dish more complexity.
SERVES 4
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
4 garlic cloves, crushed and peeled
3 anchovy fillets
1 large bunch escarole, about 1 pound, leaves trimmed, separated, and washed
¼ teaspoon kosher salt, plus more as needed
¼ cup pitted oil-cured black olives
Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the garlic and anchovies, and cook, stirring, until the anchovies dissolve, about 2 minutes.
Add the whole escarole leaves to the skillet, with a little water from washing still clinging to them, and season with the salt. Stir in the olives. Once the escarole begins to wilt, cover the skillet and cook until the leaves are tender, about 8 to 10 minutes. Check occasionally to make sure the pan is not dry; if it is, add a few tablespoons of water and re-cover.
Once the escarole is wilted and tender, uncover and cook for another minute or two to evaporate any excess liquid. Season with salt (keeping in mind that the anchovies and olives contain salt), and serve warm.
Everything tastes better with bacon, and so does spinach. The Italians often use rendered pieces of pancetta or prosciutto to flavor their vegetables, especially the winter vegetables such as chicory, kale, Savoy cabbage, cauliflower, and the like.
SERVES 4
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
6 garlic cloves, crushed and peeled
6 ounces pancetta or regular bacon, cut into ¼-inch pieces
Two 10-ounce bags fresh spinach, washed and trimmed
¼ teaspoon kosher salt
Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. When the oil is hot, toss in the garlic. Let the garlic sizzle for a minute or two, then add the pancetta. Sauté until the pancetta fat is rendered and the pancetta is crisp, about 4 to 5 minutes.
Add the spinach, ½ cup water, and the salt. Cover, and cook until the spinach is tender, about 4 to 5 minutes. Uncover, and increase heat to high to cook away excess liquid, about 1 minute. Serve immediately.
I grew up on Swiss chard, but in the United States it has only become a popular part of the leafy-vegetables section in markets during the last ten years. I love the vegetable: I love cooking with it and using it in soups, as well as in pastas, risottos, and fish dishes. To me, everything is good when served with Swiss chard. This simple dish is a family recipe my grandmother made for us, and it is still a favorite at our table. The children love it as well.
SERVES 6
1 tablespoon kosher salt, plus more for the pot
2 pounds large russet potatoes, peeled
2 bunches Swiss chard (about 2 pounds), trimmed (see note) and coarsely shredded
⅓ cup plus 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
6 garlic cloves, crushed and peeled
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
½ cup sliced almonds, toasted
NOTE If you buy young Swiss chard, cook the stems and leaves all at the same time. If you buy Swiss chard with larger leaves and stalks, trim the stems from the leaves and cook them for 10 minutes before adding the leaves.
Fill a large pot with cold salted water, and add the whole peeled potatoes. Bring to a simmer, and cook the potatoes about halfway, about 15 minutes. Add the shredded chard, and cook until the leaves are very tender, 15 minutes or more, depending on the size. Drain well in a colander.
Wipe out the pot, and return it to the stovetop. Pour ⅓ cup of the olive oil and the crushed garlic into the pot set over medium heat. Cook until the garlic is light golden, about 3 to 4 minutes. Slice in the butter; once it has melted, add the drained potatoes and chard. Drizzle with the remaining 3 tablespoons olive oil, and season with 1 tablespoon salt. Mash coarsely with a potato masher. Let cook a few minutes to remove any excess liquid, stir in the almonds, and serve hot.
The love Italians have for the artichoke is evident at the table. It is also evident as you visit markets in Italy, when you search through the pickled and canned vegetables in the Italian section of specialty stores in America, and when you consider the endless number of recipes dedicated to this thistle.
SERVES 4
2 pounds baby artichokes (about 16)
8 garlic cloves, crushed and peeled
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint
2 tablespoons chopped fresh Italian parsley
¾ teaspoon kosher salt
¼ teaspoon peperoncino flakes
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1½ cups dry white wine
1 tablespoon dry bread crumbs
Clean and prepare the artichokes as detailed.
Combine the artichokes, garlic, lemon zest and juice, mint, parsley, salt, and peperoncino in a saucepan of the size in which the artichokes will snugly fit in one layer. Nestle the artichokes in the pan with the ingredients, drizzle with the olive oil, and dot with the butter. Pour 3 cups water and the wine into the saucepan. Bring to a simmer, cover, and cook until the artichokes are tender all the way through, about 40 minutes.
Uncover the pan, sprinkle with the bread crumbs, and simmer until the bread crumbs dissolve and thicken the sauce, just a minute or two.
Holding a flowering artichoke at Pezzini Farms in Castroville, California
After investigating the canning industry in San Diego, Tanya and I took a ride north to San Clemente, and along the highway, I could not help noticing field upon field of artichokes. I wanted to stop, but we were heading to meet Nic Roma, an advertising executive who gave it all up to become a farmer and return to his earthy Italian roots. His family came from Tricarico, Basilicata, in 1909. “My people didn’t bring valuables with them, they brought values.” His passion and quest is to work the land as his ancestors did, while making use of all the technical innovations today. He is not an immigrant, but, rather, an American with Italian roots. He wants to spread an appreciation for the Italian varietals of vegetables, and with them his ancestors’ respect for the land.
A delicious merenda (snack) awaited us when we greeted Nic at VR Green Farms in San Clemente. Under the pergola (entryway), we were surrounded by exemplary Mediterranean species of vegetables, from artichokes to fava beans. We walked through orchards of olive trees, and munched on fresh pecorino cheese drizzled with mango honey. We dunked our crunchy multigrain bread into olive oil made in the nearby hills, and popped local almonds into our mouths.
Nic is committed to bringing Italian varietals of vegetables and fruits to California. I promised him that I would send him some seeds and together we would start a radicchio-zuccherino salad revolution in America.
We were well fed on our way north to Salinas Valley, and arrived bright and early one morning at the immense fields of the D’Arrigo Brothers’ farm. The broccoli rabe was still moist from the morning dew—I had never seen so much broccoli rabe in one place, or, for that matter, such a quantity of any vegetable in one place.
Stephen and Andrew D’Arrigo, two brothers originally from Messina, Sicily, had moved to California in the early 1900s from Boston, and invested in a small farm growing fennel and broccoli in 1925. They had the vision that their compatriots would appreciate their native broccoli rabe, and brought some broccolini rapini (as the broccoli rabe is called in Italy) seeds from Sicily in the 1950s. They began growing it and renamed it broccoli rabe.
The vegetable’s popularity spread like wildfire. Andy Boy (the D’Arrigos’ company) is now the largest producer of broccoli rabe in the United States, but they also cultivate broccoli, cauliflower, and romaine lettuce. Now another generation of D’Arrigos run the farm—Andrew, and his son and daughter John and Margaret. As I walked the fields with Margaret, I noticed that besides the broccoli rabe there were endless fields of prickly pears, their Sicilian heritage prevailing again. Margaret’s twin sons were not too far behind us, playing hide-and-seek. Even while playing, the fourth generation of D’Arrigo farmers are being groomed.
With Margaret D’Arrigo in the abundant fields of broccoli rabe at Andy Boy Farms
Our next stop was the Royal Rose Radicchio growing company, and here the Italian story is quite different. Lucio Gomiero and Carlo Boscolo are Italian businessmen, both from the Veneto region of Italy. Lucio has a successful construction business in Italy and produces wine; the Boscolos are Italy’s largest growers of radicchio. Fate brought them together on a construction project, and they became friends; in 1988, Lucio took a gamble and proposed to Carlo that they had a real opportunity to grow radicchio in California. After extensive research on the Salinas Valley, they bought twenty acres and began farming. They now sell more than ten million pounds of radicchio a year and even export it to Italy. Clearly, this was a story of Italians with ambitions looking for their own opportunities, rather than looking for work under someone else.
The Salinas Valley in California, one would say, is a second Italy, it is so similar in climate. Missing the products from their home, immigrants transported seeds and knowledge, and developed one of the largest agricultural communities growing Italian produce: garlic, artichokes, purple asparagus, and red radicchio, just to name a few. There is almost no professional chef who does not use some of this Italian American–grown produce. When we came to the farm, a sea of radicchio heads lay before us. Most of them were of the round, cabbagelike Chioggia varietal, although farmers here also grow the Treviso varietal and are beginning to grow the Rosa di Castelfranco—a radicchio that looks like a rose—a radicchio of red and yellow. The bittersweet quality of these salads of the chicory family is much loved and enjoyed in Italy, and it seems that the American palate is following closely behind.
The next morning, we were at the Pezzini Farms in Castroville bright and early, where there were silvery-green artichoke plants as far as the eye could see. Artichokes are one of the oldest foods known to humans: the Greek philosopher and naturalist Theophrastus wrote of them being grown in Sicily in 300 B.C. However, the Italians were not the first to bring the artichoke to the American shores. It was the French, who brought it into New Orleans in 1806, and from there the Spaniards took it to California. Andrew Molera, a landowner in the Salinas Valley, decided to lease his land (previously dedicated to growing sugar beets) to Italian farmers who were growing the new vegetable. In the 1920s, it was the Italians who turned most of the cornfields of California’s Central Coast into a garden of artichokes. As a result, today we have Castroville, the Artichoke Capital of the World. Every May, the Artichoke Festival takes over the town, and visitors are offered field tours and are able to taste artichokes cooked in every method imaginable. There is an antique-car show, a show of agro art (three-dimensional artworks made of produce), and also a run and walk through the artichoke fields.
Guido and Tony Pezzini and me in the fields at Pezzini Farms—home of nine different sizes of artichokes
California accounts for 99.9 percent of the artichokes grown in the United States, and the cooler coastal climate allows them to thrive, growing like little palm trees planted in rows. The Pezzini Farms are known for Green Globe artichokes, a varietal much sought after by chefs and home cooks alike across America, and they offer these artichokes in nine different sizes. Tony Pezzini claims that each artichoke is picked and packed by hand, and that each is unique in flavor and texture.
We were met by three generations upon our arrival at the farm: the grandfather Guido, his son Tony, Tony’s wife, Jo Lynn, their son Sean, and a beautiful all-black shepherd guard dog. Guido explained that it was his father, an emigrant from Lombardy, who started the farm, and then Guido began to specialize in the artichoke. There is nothing mechanical about farming artichokes: everyone in the Pezzini family has to work hands-on, and they even have a well-supplied stand where they sell fried artichokes.
To cook all of these great Italian vegetables, you need garlic, lots of garlic, and at the LJB Farms in San Martin we found just that. Mounds upon mounds, braid after hanging braid of garlic. The LJB Farms are run by a fourth generation of garlic farmers: Louie and Judy Bonino and their sons, Brent and Russ, work very hard at growing garlic. But with the competition from China, they had to diversify. So they have set up a bountiful farm stand where they sell deliciously succulent tree- and vine-ripened fruits and vegetables. The fifth generation, Jeremy and Anthony, were at the farm as well. When they talked about their plans, the future did not include garlic growing, but becoming a pilot and a fireman. Still, I have the feeling that the business of their grandfather and father will beckon them at some time. We left with handfuls of garlic braids, and the aroma of garlic wafted as a delicious reminder of the salad of tomato, cucumber, onion, basil, and garlic that was prepared for us by Judy.
With the Bonino family at LJB Farms (left to right): Brent, Luci, Louie, Tanya, Judy, Jeremy, Lidia, Russ, Raquel, and Anthony
As we made our way northward, we took a detour to Modesto, where Dino and Tom Cortopassi, a delightful Italian American family I have known for years, make olive oil and grow and can some of the best Italian plum tomatoes in this country. Used mainly in the food-service industry, their tomatoes are of the highest quality. They believe that if you use the highest-quality ingredients your dish is bound to be good. The Cortopassi packing facility is fast-moving, with tomatoes whizzing by twenty-four/seven, and they pack everything fresh. They must complete their entire yearly production and get it packed within the three-month growing season. In their freshness of taste, the Cortopassis’ tomatoes reflect the commitment to quality in the three generations of passionate farming.
It was time to head for the airport and fly to Seattle, where I was to meet my son-in-law Corrado Manuali. Seattle does not have a big Italian American population, but Italian food and wine are doing well there. One of the men to be credited with spreading the flavors of the Italian table in Seattle is Armandino Batali, with his famous Armandino’s Salumi, at 309 Third Avenue South. His daughter Gina now runs this popular eatery, where at lunchtime the line wraps around the block. But I have an in with the family, and get privileged access—for, after all, his son Mario Batali is a dear friend and partner with my son Joseph and with me in several restaurants.
In the tradition of the farmers and entrepreneurs we have met through our travels, in October 2010 we opened Eataly, a new retail-restaurant complex, bringing the Italian food experience in America ever closer to Italy. It is so much like the Italian shopping experience that people leave the 50,000-square-foot complex saying, “It feels and tastes like Italy in there.” Americans are ever more knowledgeable and appreciative of traditional Italian food and products, and at Eataly we deliver just that: the authenticity of Italian products, Italian cooked meals, and the Italian lifestyle. Most of the products are Italian and are chosen under the guidance of the Slow Food philosophy, designed to enhance the rich experience of beautifully made food. Other goods such as our breads, desserts, and mozzarella are made on the premises by Italian masters collaborating with American talent. We have also incorporated local American artisanal meats, vegetables, fruits, dairy and egg products, all selected here in America with the same criteria as the Italian products are selected in Italy. At Eataly, the best of two great cultures come together at the table, just as they have in restaurants and homes across America.
Sam Maugeri holding lusciously ripe Roma tomatoes at the family farm in New Jersey
Cauliflower braised in tomato sauce is not a new recipe, but I had this delicious rendition, which I share with you here, at Torrisi.
SERVES 4 TO 6
5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
6 garlic cloves, crushed and peeled
1 large head cauliflower, cut into 2-inch florets, and any tender leaves coarsely chopped
¼ cup pitted oil-cured black olives, halved
½ teaspoon dried oregano
½ teaspoon kosher salt
¼ teaspoon peperoncino flakes
28-ounce can Italian plum tomatoes, preferably San Marzano, crushed by hand
¼ cup drained tiny capers in brine
8 large fresh basil leaves
Heat 3 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot, add the garlic, and let it sizzle for a minute. Toss the cauliflower florets and leaves, and stir to coat with the oil.
Sprinkle in the olives, oregano, salt, and peperoncino, and stir. Pour in the tomatoes and capers, and bring the sauce to a rapid simmer. Cover, and cook 10 minutes. Uncover, and simmer until the cauliflower is tender and the sauce has thickened, about 10 to 12 minutes. Drizzle with the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil, and tear the basil leaves into the skillet. Stir to combine, and serve hot.
This dish exemplifies Sicilian cooking, especially in the late-summer months, when eggplant, tomatoes, and peppers are at their best. The same kind of summer-vegetable preparation also appears in French ratatouille. But the difference is that the Sicilians make it agrodolce, sweet and sour: cooking some vinegar and sugar, then tossing with the vegetables. The acidity in the vinegar hinders spoilage, and in hot New Orleans summers, this dish keeps well without refrigeration.
Caponata requires a lot of preparation, but once done it keeps well in the refrigerator for up to ten days, and freezes well, so it makes sense to make a big batch. It is a very versatile dish—as an appetizer with some cheese, as a side dish, or as a delicious sandwich stuffer. Actually, it improves if left to steep for a while. I love it at room temperature with a piece of grilled meat or fish.
SERVES 8 TO 12
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 large red onion, cut into ¾-inch chunks
1 fennel bulb, trimmed, cored, cut into ¾-inch chunks
4 stalks celery, peeled if necessary, cut into ¾-inch chunks
2 red, yellow, or orange bell peppers, seeded, cut into ¾-inch chunks
2 teaspoons kosher salt, plus more as needed
2 fresh bay leaves, or 3 dried bay leaves
1 cup vegetable oil
2 small, firm eggplants, cut into ¾-inch chunks
2 medium zucchini, cut into ¾-inch chunks
2 tablespoons honey
12 oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes, drained, cut into strips
½ cup drained tiny capers in brine
1 teaspoon dried oregano
Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onion, fennel, celery, and peppers, season with 1 teaspoon salt, and drop in the bay leaves. Toss a few times to coat the vegetables in the oil, then cover and let sweat over low heat until tender, about 10 minutes.
Heat ½ cup of the vegetable oil in another skillet over medium-high heat. Slide in the eggplants and cook, turning to brown all sides, about 6 to 7 minutes. Drain the eggplants on a paper-towel-lined baking sheet. Add the remaining ½ cup of oil to the skillet, and repeat with the zucchini, browning on all sides, about 6 to 7 minutes. Remove the browned zucchini, and let it drain along with the eggplant.
Meanwhile, bring the vinegar and honey to a boil in a small saucepan, and cook until syrupy and reduced by about half, 2 to 3 minutes.
When the onion, fennel, celery, and peppers are tender, uncover and add the sun-dried tomatoes. Cook, uncovered, to evaporate excess liquid, about 2 to 3 minutes more. Sprinkle in the capers and oregano. Pat the eggplants and zucchini dry, and season with ½ teaspoon salt. Add the eggplants and zucchini to the skillet with the other vegetables, and toss to combine. Drizzle in the reduced vinegar mixture, season with remaining ½ teaspoon salt (or as needed), and toss for a minute or two, just until the vegetables are glazed. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Me in the eggplant fields at the Maugeri farm in southern New Jersey
Cauliflower, a good vegetable especially in the winter, can be prepared in many ways. I sometimes like just to boil it and while the cauliflower is boiling, add an egg or two to boil as well. When the cauliflower and the eggs cool, I peel the eggs, then toss the cauliflower and eggs into a great salad, dressed just with olive oil and vinegar. But the following is a recipe I got from Torrisi in New York, a deli-looking place set up with sixteen seats for dining. The cauliflower I had was delicious, and the bread crumbs used were made by Progresso, which was started by Italian immigrants in New Orleans in 1905.
SERVES 4
6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
6 garlic cloves, sliced
1 large or 2 small heads cauliflower, cut into 2-inch florets
½ teaspoon kosher salt
¼ cup dry bread crumbs
¼ cup grated Pecorino Romano
Heat 4 tablespoons oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Toss in the sliced garlic, and cook until sizzling, about 1 to 2 minutes. Add the cauliflower florets, and toss to coat in the oil. Season with the salt. Cover, and cook until the cauliflower is tender, about 15 minutes. Stir occasionally, adding up to ½ cup water if the skillet starts to dry out or burn.
Mix together the bread crumbs and grated cheese in a small bowl. When the cauliflower is tender, uncover, and sprinkle with the cheese crumbs. Drizzle with the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil and serve. For a crispy finish, bake in a preheated 375-degree oven for 15 minutes.
Try this recipe for a delicious Italian rendition of mashed potatoes. I recall that my grandma would fork-mash boiled potatoes, drizzle some extra-virgin olive oil, and sprinkle with coarse sea salt. Here I added some roasted garlic cloves, very much an Italian American favorite.
SERVES 4 TO 6
2 heads garlic
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 teaspoons kosher salt
2½ pounds medium russet potatoes
1 cup whole milk
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Cut off the tips on each garlic head, then place each garlic head on a square of foil, drizzle with olive oil, and wrap the foil to seal. Roast in the oven until the garlic is tender throughout (about 30 to 40 minutes, depending on the size of the garlic head). Let cool slightly, then squeeze the garlic cloves into a small bowl and mash with the remaining olive oil and the salt.
Meanwhile, put the potatoes in a pot with water to cover by 1 inch. Bring to a simmer, and cook until tender all the way through—about 15 to 20 minutes, depending on size. Let the potatoes cool slightly, then peel and set aside. In the pot used to cook the potatoes, warm the milk over low heat. Add the potatoes and garlic paste, and coarsely mash with a potato masher. Serve hot.
Everybody loves roasted potatoes, and these have a Mediterranean twist—lots of garlic and rosemary.
The aroma of roasted rosemary in my mind conjures up images of big roasted meats and holidays, so whenever I make this dish it feels like a holiday to me.
SERVES 4 TO 6
¼ cup plus 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons fresh rosemary
4 garlic cloves, sliced
1 tablespoon chopped fresh Italian parsley
2 pounds russet potatoes, cut lengthwise into 1-inch wedges
1 teaspoon kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.
Combine ¼ cup of the olive oil, the rosemary, garlic, and parsley in a large bowl. Let this marinade steep while the potatoes roast.
Spread the potatoes on a rimmed baking sheet, then season with the salt and toss with the remaining 3 tablespoons olive oil. Place on the lower rack of the oven, and roast until golden on one side, about 10 minutes. Flip the potatoes, and roast until golden on the other side, cooked through, and very crispy, about 10 minutes more.
Immediately dump the hot potatoes into the bowl with the garlic-rosemary mixture, and toss to coat. Season with black pepper, and use tongs to crush the potatoes lightly, so they absorb the flavored oil better. Toss again to let the exposed parts of potato get coated with oil. Serve right away. (You can pick out some or all of the rosemary and garlic before serving, if you like.)