Prosciutto

“Straw and hay,” as the name of this pasta recipe translates, is a common dish in Italy, especially in northern Italy, Emilia-Romagna, the heart of fresh pasta making. It always includes a little prosciutto, the sauce is cream-based, and it needs lots of grated cheese. Here I added some chopped scallions for freshness, although the dish always has peas. It is best if made with fresh pasta, but dry fettuccine will still yield a perfectly delicious dish.

Pork meat, which is nutritional and economical, is used a lot in Italy. Using the tenderloin for this dish guarantees a tender result, but one can use boneless shoulder or leg meat instead, cutting it into thin slices. You can also make this dish with chicken breast or boneless chicken legs. The sun-dried tomatoes bring a lot of flavor to the dish; I use them whole, or sometimes purée them in a processor and spread the paste on the meat, but in this recipe I slice them.

This sandwich was my grandfather’s favorite sandwich for merenda, the midmorning snack. My grandmother would use the prosciutto scraps with bits and pieces of fat, and when there was no prosciutto, she would use pancetta.

Salumeria Italiana is the place to go in the North End of Boston to buy Italian specialty foods. The store is small but meticulously furnished with some of the best of Italian imported and domestic products. For nearly five decades, the Martignetti family has upheld the time-honored tradition. It was early on a rainy morning when Tanya and I, camera and notepad in hand, paid a visit to the Salumeria. The workers were beginning to set up the products and sandwich of the day, getting ready for lunch. The resident salumiere, a timid elderly gentleman, repeatedly skirted the lens of our camera, but we did get some really good close-ups of the Salumeria panino of the day. No one was willing to share the recipe, either, so here is my rendition of what we saw and tasted; it is simple and simply delicious. Don’t miss out on visiting Paul Revere’s house, almost around the corner!

With its developed flavor and moist, saucy consistency, risotto is still special the day after—it’s not just cold rice. Riso Sartù is a dish I always enjoy when visiting my cousin Clara Pacelli in Naples. It is one of the most wonderful ways I know to transform cooked risotto into something new. The risotto is blended with meat sauce, green peas, and lots of grated cheese and packed into small molds with morsels of egg, prosciutto, and mozzarella hidden inside. Baked and then unmolded, the cakes are crisp and crunchy outside—as you can see in the photo below—and creamy and chock-full of treats inside. This recipe makes six cakes with 2 1/2 cups of risotto and a cup of Ragù alla Bolognese (page 143) as the meat sauce. It is easy to multiply the formula if you have more risotto and sauce, and ovenproof cups to serve as molds. This dish might be made today with leftovers, but traditionally it was the specialty of the Neapolitan aristocracy, and risotto was made expressly for it.

Salsa arrabbiata—literally, “angry” sauce—is a tomato-based pasta sauce made in countless versions in Italy, sometimes with meat, sometimes without, but always with some kind of hot pepper. I like bits of meat in my sauce, either thick bacon or, even better, prosciutto “end” (see below). The heat here comes from small whole pickled peppers, packed in jars of vinegar, labeled peperoncini or peperoncino (the same term I use for red pepper flakes). Though these are milder than pickled “cherry” peppers, they provide plenty of spice—especially peperoncini Toscano, which I hope you can find. The sauce should have a pleasing play of textures as well as tastes, providing nice and distinctive bites of all the ingredients. Cut the onions, peperoncini, and prosciutto (or bacon) thick enough so that they don’t get lost, or lose their shape in the tomato sauce.

This gratin of fennel wedges and strips of prosciutto drizzled with butter and topped with Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano, then baked until golden, is rich, aromatic, and irresistible. It’s also quite convenient, since you can set up the baking dish hours ahead, keep it refrigerated, then pop it into the oven just before dinner. You can make this without prosciutto or substitute bacon, and it will be delicious, but it’s even better with prosciutto. Keep in mind that the cooking of prosciutto and cheese concentrates the saltiness, but the sweetness of the fennel brings it all into balance. Serve hot for best results.

Although these savory, salty little bundles are a little too fat to truly resemble cigars, rolling the crabs in the prosciutto does employ a technique used by skilled workers in Cuba. It might also seem familiar to you if you’ve ever hand-rolled anything in papers. For directions on cleaning the soft-shell crabs, see page 32. Make sure you go easy on the salt in this dish because the prosciutto already contains plenty.

The fragrant, filling, dripping-with-oil muffuletta is New Orleans’s beloved version of a hero or hoagie. The sandwich originated at Central Grocery in 1906, and people still line up out the door to buy them there. In a traditional muffuletta, a sesame seed-speckled round loaf of crusty Italian bread is stuffed with slices of provolone, salami, mortadella, and a pungent olive salad (which ranks alongside hot sauce and beignet mix as the best souvenirs from the Quarter). A muffuletta is a cousin to one of the great street foods of Nice, the niçoise-salad-on-a-roll known as pan bagnat. The sandwich, which literally translates as “bathed bread,” is so named because the crusty bread is “bathed” in the rich oils from olives and tuna. With this preparation in mind, I created a tuna-driven version of the classic New Orleans sandwich. I think it’s a happy combination.

This recipe is an adaptation of a dish from the Troisgros Brothers, a famous restaurant in Lyon. The “gâteau” is a stack of delicate crêpes layered with creamy béchamel sauce, Gruyère or Comté cheese, ham, and prosciutto. There are countless variations to this elegant dish. You can use plain crêpes or herbed, as I do here. I sometimes make a more “locally flavored” version by folding crayfish and spinach into the béchamel (and omitting the hams). The key is cooking the assembled gâteau until it’s bubbly and brown. I like to serve this with a deeply flavored Smoked-Tomato Butter (p. 63), but this dish is great on its own. For a quick assembly, make the sauce and the crêpes a day or two in advance. Wrap the crêpes in plastic wrap and freeze until needed.

Saltimbocca, a classic Roman dish, provided the inspiration for this recipe. In our variation we replaced the traditional veal cutlets with chicken.

This is one of the quickest and most satisfying pasta recipes you can make. Prosciutto is easier to slice when it’s cold; stack slices, and cut crosswise with a sharp knife.

In Italy, prosciutto and melon are combined in a traditional first course. Here, cool, silky bocconcini and torn mint leaves are added to make a refreshing salad—just the thing to begin a meal on a warm summer night.

Here is that American favorite, Chicken Cordon Bleu, deconstructed. This gorgeous dish pulls the soggy ham and cheese out of the stuffing, layering them instead over a crisp, juicy chicken cutlet. The rich triple cream cheese begins to melt when it hits the panko-crusted chicken, which then anchors the paper-thin slices of cured ham to them both. Baby arugula is tossed in a bright, acidic vinaigrette of Dijon mustard and red wine vinegar before being placed atop the dish. The peppery arugula and mustardy vinaigrette cut through the richness of the cheese and complement the salty ham. I serve this at lunch, but it would be wonderful at dinner as well.

The thought of this dish came to me when I saw new varieties of individually sized cantaloupes, about the size of grapefruits, at my local farmers’ markets. As a single cook, I’m drawn to anything with that single-serving thing going for it. But if you can’t find any of these little ones, use 1 cup of the flesh from a larger cantaloupe and save the rest for breakfast or a snack the next day. Now, I can imagine what you’re thinking: pasta with cantaloupe? Seriously? I first read about it in Giuliano Hazan’s Thirty-Minute Pasta and knew I had to downscale it—and add prosciutto, such a natural thing to pair with cantaloupe.

Meme loved asparagus, which she called “asparagus salad,” although there wasn`t anything to preparing it other than opening the familiar shiny silver can. Even though I know the flavor of canned asparagus (really, there isn’t any) cannot compare to freshly cooked, I enjoy that taste memory. The ends of fresh asparagus can be tough and woody. I prefer to slice off the last inch or two of the stem instead of snapping it off where the spear breaks naturally. Not only is it more visually appealing when all the spears are exactly the same size, but they will also cook at the same rate. As these are best fried at the last minute, I suggest you serve them as a first course at a small dinner, not as an hors d’oeuvre at a large party.