Dairy

The popular version of fish tacos—as opposed to those made with grilled fish, native to Mexico—is believed to have originated in Southern California, where there is a strong Mexican influence on cooking and plenty of coastline for reeling in fish. They are garnished with a variety of piquant salsas and relishes and usually crema, the Mexican equivalent of sour cream; these are topped with a sour cream–based sauce, spiked with smoky chipotle chiles.

Next time you want to welcome guests Southern-style, cook up a batch (or two) of crisp fried chicken. It’s hard to imagine anything else that exudes both down-home appeal and true culinary wizardry. The recipe here is for one chicken, but you can easily double the ingredients to fry two. Whenever you are preparing a mixture for dredging, start off by whisking together only half the amounts called for; then, if you find you need more, whisk together the rest. Many recipes call for more dredging ingredients than you’ll need, and the excess must be discarded because it came into contact with raw meat. Or, you can whisk everything together, transfer some to the bowl for dredging, and then freeze any unused (and untainted) portion in a resealable plastic bag. When pan-frying most foods, you do not want to crowd the pan. But fried chicken is an exception. Placing more pieces in the pan helps to stabilize the temperature of the oil during frying so that it does not spike as much or as quickly. The chicken can be soaked in ice water overnight in a covered dish in the refrigerator to remove any blood or impurities; be sure to change the water a few times. If you prefer a thicker crust, double dredge: coat the chicken in the flour mixture and let sit for 15 minutes, then dredge in the flour again, tapping off excess.

Polenta, a staple of northern Italian cooking, is coarsely ground cornmeal that is cooked very slowly simmering on top of the stove (or in the oven). Because of the frequent stirring and the incremental additions of liquid, the cooking method is very similar to that used for risotto. Polenta can be served right away, as in the recipe that follows, or allowed to set and then cut into shapes and fried, grilled, or baked. Water is the most common liquid, but for a richer, more flavorful polenta, replace all or some of the water with chicken stock (page 41) or vegetable stock (page 56), reducing salt accordingly, if necessary. Or substitute half the water with milk (preferably whole) for a creamier consistency. This recipe calls for two pots of water for cooking the polenta: one for the initial stage when the cornmeal is whisked into hot water, and the other for additional water that is added gradually while the polenta cooks to reach the desired thickness. Having less water in the first stage helps the cornmeal reach a creamier consistency earlier in the cooking process, so lumps are less likely to form. Once you become familiar with the method and know the thickness you prefer, you won’t need to measure the amount in the second pot. The longer the polenta cooks, the creamier and tastier it becomes (up to a point). The recommended cooking time here is merely the minimum required for the polenta to cook through. If you choose to cook it longer, simply add small amounts of hot liquid as necessary to achieve the desired consistency, making sure that you let the polenta absorb all of the liquid before adding more. The method described below can be used to cook other types of meal, including semolina (coarsely ground durum wheat often used to make puddings) and grits (coarsely ground corn, also known as hominy grits).

Perhaps the best known cold pureed soup, vichyssoise is a simple puree of potato and leeks that is traditionally enriched with cream; adding a bit of buttermilk along with the cream gives this version a pleasant tangy flavor. Here, leeks serve as both an aromatic, replacing the onion, as well as one of the base vegetables. Garlic is typically not used. The amount of stock or water called for is also reduced, since both cream and buttermilk are added. If making the soup for company, buy an extra leek to prepare the Leek Frisée (page 75) for the garnish.

A well-made risotto is a culinary feat: Small, firm grains of rice float, suspended, in a rich, creamy sauce. When scooped onto a shallow plate or bowl, a good risotto should have a loose consistency, rippling into a tight pool on the plate (it should not be soupy, though). As the Italians say, it should be all’onda, or “with waves.” Unfortunately, many cooks (home and professional) make risottos that are too thick and dense, more like a porridge. But preparing a successful risotto is actually easier to accomplish than you may imagine. It involves no special tricks, just careful observation (and a lot of stirring). Allow your senses—taste, sight, and smell—to tell you when it’s done. The type of rice is critical to the dish. Italian rices, such as Arborio, Carnaroli, or Vialone Nano, are the best choices for the particular composition of starches risotto requires. During cooking, the soft starch on the outside of the grains readily dissolves to form the intrinsic creaminess, while the inside remains al dente (firm “to the tooth”), giving risotto its characteristic bite. Because its flavor will permeate the dish, the liquid used is equally important, and what you use should depend on what else is being added to the dish. Many recipes call for chicken or vegetable stock, but these can prove too overpowering, especially when the dish will be simply seasoned with a handful each of cheese and herbs, as in the recipe below. So instead, the recipe calls for a simple broth that incorporates some of the ingredients used to flavor the dish, here celery, carrot, onion, garlic, and parsley. Likewise, for a shrimp risotto, you could make a broth by combining the shells with lemons and herbs; or you could sauté or roast the bones from meat, fish, or chicken and then simmer them with water. If you prefer deeper flavor, follow this same principle to enrich existing chicken or vegetable stocks for using in risotto. Making a risotto is a lot like making a stew: First, you begin by sautéing an aromatic ingredient. Then the rice is stirred in and toasted to give it a nutty flavor (similar to pilafs) and to loosen some of its starch. After a few minutes, as you stir, the grains eventually become slightly more translucent and they begin making a clicking noise, which tells you it’s time to add the wine. When the wine is stirred in, the rice releases a bit more starch, turning the liquid slightly milky, a sign of the creaminess to come. Once the wine is absorbed, the stock is added, ladleful by ladleful. Near-constant stirring will ensure that the rice cooks evenly and helps release the soft starch on the outside of the grains. The final step of any great risotto is to “mount” it with butter, which gives the risotto richness, and to add in any final seasonings (in this case, grated cheese, freshly ground pepper, and parsley), just before serving. In certain regions of northern Italy, the risotto method is used to cook other grains, such as farro, an ancient grain with a nutty taste. It will produce a dish with a slightly chewier and less creamy texture (see the farro variation with wild mushroom see below).

Vegetable stock is an essential ingredient in many vegetarian soups, but it also provides incomparable flavor to many well-loved vegetable (but not necessarily meat-free) soups such as this one. Minestrone has become so familiar in the American kitchen that it might be easy to forget its Italian origins. But the name—minestre is the word for soup, while the suffix (-one) indicates bigness—hints at its universal appeal as a simple pantry-based soup that is also hearty and substantial. The foundation of flavor, called a soffritto, is a common element in soup-making: a trio of celery, carrots, and onion is sautéed first, then stock and more vegetables are added and slowly simmered to coax out their flavors. Beans are what distinguish minestrone from other vegetable soups; the type varies by region, as does the addition (if any) of pasta or rice (this version has neither). The beans are also what give the soup such heft, making it a good option for a meatless one-pot dish (if you leave out the prosciutto) that can stand as the centerpiece of any casual dinner. The beans need to soak overnight in the refrigerator, so plan accordingly. Then they need to boil for at least a half hour, so use that time to prepare the rest of the ingredients for the soffritto and soup.

One of the best reasons to make your own basic brown stock is that it means French onion soup from scratch is within easy reach. (You can also make the soup with white beef stock, page 42.) Like many other bistro classics, French onion soup has humble origins as a staple of thrifty households, where a pot of stock—itself born of frugality—was the foundation for many family meals. Even those with limited resources could make soupe a l’oignon since it calls for little else: pounds of inexpensive and readily available onions, a crusty baguette (providing a way to use up day-old bread), and a chunk of sharp Gruyère cheese, grated to turn a little into a lot. Because there are so few components, each one is enhanced in some way to contribute to the final dish. The homemade stock provides both color and robust taste, as well as ensuring a silky consistency. Caramelizing the onions gives them a wonderful sweetness (and more dark brown color). Toasted bread adds a textural note, while gratinéed cheese introduces another pleasing component. Similar to the burnt-sugar shell atop crème brûlée, the molten, golden crown invites tucking into with a spoon. This recipe can be halved, but since the soup freezes well, it is worth making the full amount.

This is a wonderful example of a vegetarian dish that isn’t at all compromised by its lack of meat. We scatter artichoke leaves over the surface of the pizza so you get the flavor of artichoke in every bite. The mild flavor of the stracchino contrasts nicely with the bitterness of the artichokes.

In the Pizzeria kitchen we refer to this as the “breakfast pizza” because of the traditional combination. We don’t cut through the egg because the whole egg looks pretty in the center of the pizza when we bring it to the table. And that way our customers can have the thrill of breaking the yolk themselves.

The richness of peperonata contrasted with the mild flavor of ricotta is so perfect we found a way to offer it in both the Pizzeria and the Osteria (see Peperonata with Ricotta Crostini, page 87). We use buricotta, which looks pretty because the cheese holds its shape when it’s baked, but if you can’t get buricotta, the pizza will be equally good made with quality fresh ricotta. In a perfect world your ricotta will get blackened in places like a perfectly roasted marshmallow.

This is a basic three-cheese pizza, the only surprise being the truffle-infused sottocenere cheese. Friend-of-Mozza Michael Krikorian orders this pizza with Fennel Sausage (page 137) on top. His version has become so popular that regular customers now know they can order the same thing if they ask for the “Michael.”

Years ago I discovered a little place in San Francisco that made the most delicious green onion focaccia that I loved and never forgot. When the Pizzeria was conceived, I knew I wanted to offer one with green onions in memory of that one. In trying to invent my green onion pizza, I remembered my days at Spago, where they made a goat cheese and red pepper pizza that was really popular. Goat cheese and bacon is a great combination, as is goat cheese and browned garlic. And then there were those green onions . . . That mishmash of inspirations is how this pizza came to be. The garlic is the same that we use in the Olives al Forno (page 37). While you’re at it, you might want to make enough for both, since the olives would be a great accompaniment to a pizza party.

If we were one of those pizzerias that give wacky names to each pie, this mixed mushroom pizza would be called “The Vegas Guys,” or “Peter’s Pizza.” Our editor, Peter Gethers, has a group of guys he goes to Las Vegas with every year for some sort of guy reunion weekend. They meet in Los Angeles and the tradition is that they choose a different restaurant to eat dinner in the night before they leave for Vegas. I’m flattered that for the last few years, they’ve quit chowing around and held their dinner consistently in the private dining room in the Pizzeria, called the Jack Warner Room. They were particularly excited about this pizza. It’s a pretty straightforward mushroom pie, but the fact that we roast the mushrooms before adding them to the pizza, and the combination of taleggio and fontina cheeses that top it, make it especially flavorful.

Long-cooked broccoli is one of my all-time favorite vegetable preparations, so I had to find a way to work it onto a pizza. Normally I don’t like broccoli on pizza because whenever I’ve seen it, it’s just been dropped onto the pizza raw, and often with a whole mix of other uncooked vegetables that don’t go with each other or with pizza. Here, the broccoli is cooked until it has a buttery texture, so it works with the crust instead of just sitting on top of it. We use a mix of mozzarella and caciocavallo cheese, a Sicilian cheese similar to mozzarella that has been dried and aged for a few weeks, so it has a funky aged flavor that goes well with the broccoli. If you can’t find caciocavallo cheese, look for scamorza, or use all mozzarella in its place.

This is my number-one favorite Pizzeria Mozza pizza, and it’s a direct rip-off of the Norcia pizza they serve at Pellicano. Sausage and panna, or cream, is a classic combination in Umbria. The summer I discovered this pizza I ordered it every time I went to Pellicano, in an effort to figure out what was in the white sauce that was smeared on the crust. When I asked, they told me “panna.” I knew panna was cream, but I couldn’t understand how they could put cream on pizza. Finally, I went back to the kitchen to see for myself, and what I saw was that the cream had been whipped, making it spreadable. Whipping cream for a pizza was such a foreign idea to me that when I started playing with pizzas for the restaurant, I tried to avoid it. I made this pizza with crème fraîche and later with mascarpone—anything not to put whipped cream on a pizza—but the whipped cream was definitely the best.

Clam pizza, a Connecticut tradition, is one of the specialties at Lombardi’s in New York City, and having my first clam pie there is one of my most memorable pizza-eating experiences. We use a combination of Parmigiano and pecorino to finish this pizza, but if you want to use only one, pick your favorite.

This was one of the original ten pizzas we served at the Pizzeria. I knew I wanted to offer a potato pizza, and I love the combination of potatoes and Gorgonzola.

No matter how creative we like to be with our pizzas, we also have a big place in our hearts for the classics such as this—essentially a pepperoni pizza with roasted chiles added for extra kick.