Pancetta

Brussels sprouts are a member of the cabbage family—and, in fact, they really do look like miniature cabbage. I think Brussels sprouts got a bad rap from the bad-cooking epidemic that seems to have swept America in the mid-twentieth-century: boiling veggies for so long that they became mushy, flavorless, and colorless. This is bad for nearly any vegetables, and particularly awful for the cabbage family, whose crisp texture (when cooked properly) is wonderful, especially when paired with the crisp, salty pancetta. Try this recipe, and see why the Belgians are proud to lend their capital’s name.

There’s only one thing I can say about this dish: It’s so good you won’t believe it.

Curry powder isn’t a traditional Italian ingredient, but over time it has found its way into Italian cuisine simply because of Italy’s geographic location and influences from its neighbors. I love the flavorful blend of spices in curry powder, which marries well with mayo and chicken. The radicchio adds a touch of bitterness and the pancetta a perfect crunch.

A crostata is a free-form tart that can be served as a dessert or, like these two, filled with savory ingredients as an elegant starter.

The same principle I use to bring out the cauliflower’s sweetness in this sauce—cooking raw cauliflower in olive oil—works well if you’d like to make cauliflower as a side dish. In that case, cut the cauliflower into individual florets rather than small pieces. You might want to use a little fresh oregano here, but parsley fits right in. Finishing this dish, like the Linguine with White Clam and Broccoli Sauce on page 122, is a bit of a balancing act. Bread crumbs will continue to thicken the sauce as it simmers, so be careful—it’s easy to end up with a sauce that’s too thick. On the other hand, if you don’t add enough bread crumbs, the sauce will be too watery. If either of these is the case, remember, you’re in control. Simply add a little hot stock or pasta-cooking water if the sauce is too thick. If it’s not thick enough, add bread crumbs—a little at a time, because it takes a few seconds for them to do their thing.

This classic and delectable pasta dish originated in the region of Abruzzi, in the little town of Amatrice, northeast of Rome, where it was traditionally prepared without tomatoes. But it is the Roman version of pasta all’amatriciana, with tomatoes, that I share with you here—the version that is best known and deservedly popular. Lots of onions; chips of guanciale (cured pork cheek, now available in the United States, see Sources, page 340), pancetta, or bacon; and San Marzano tomatoes are the essential elements of the sauce, Roma style. Note that the onions are first softened in water, before olive oil is added to the pan—a traditional but unusual step that is said to make the onions sweeter. The standard pasta used is bucatini or perciatelli (spaghetti are only tolerated). The long, dry strands of perciatelli resemble very thick spaghetti but are hollow like a drinking straw. When cooked, they are wild and wiggly, so you might be tempted to cut them. Do not—once you’ve got them on your fork, they’re delicious and fun to eat. It is quite all right to slurp them. Indeed, as kids we would suck them in so fast that the end of the noodle would whip us in the nose, splattering sauce all over our faces. What a wonderful memory!