Zucchini

Ratatouille calls for a fairly specific list of vegetables: eggplant, tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, and usually onions. These are cooked slowly, together, with a lot of olive oil and some garlic. The dish is finished with fresh basil; how could it be bad? Needless to say, ratatouille is best in midsummer, when the vegetables are at their peak. It can be served hot or at room temperature and is delicious both ways. It’s especially good with grilled sausage.

Like Tempura (page 91), the Fritto Misto batter and technique can be used with almost any morsel of food. An old-fashioned Fritto Misto might have bits of veal or other meat, frog’s legs, cock’s combs, artichoke hearts, chanterelles or other mushrooms, zucchini or other vegetables, pieces of cheese, and, of course, fish. These days, it seems most people—including me—like a fish-based Fritto Misto, with perhaps a few pieces of vegetable thrown in. I have some suggestions here, but please use whatever you like. Because you’ll have to fry in batches, and because it’s good only when very hot, it’s best to serve Fritto Misto as an appetizer and usually only to those guests who are willing to stand around in the kitchen. I don’t think Fritto Misto needs more than fresh lemon as a “sauce,” but you can use aïoli or even a light tomato sauce if you like.

Tempura is not the only batter-fried appetizer in the world; in fact, many cuisines have a similar dish, and some of these recipes follow. But tempura is very light, easy to make, and pretty much foolproof; chances are you’ll get it right even on your first try. Shrimp is the most common seafood, and probably the best, for use in tempura, but there’s no reason you couldn’t use other shellfish or even finfish. As for vegetables, it’s a matter of whatever is on hand. Harder vegetables, like winter squash and carrots, should be cut into thin slices so they become tender at about the same time they are browned. More tender vegetables—zucchini, eggplant, mushrooms, and the like—can be made larger or even, in the case of mushrooms or green beans, kept whole. Tempura, like most fried foods, must be served immediately. It will hold in a low oven for a few minutes, but as we all know it’s at its best the second it’s done. As long as you’re comfortable with your guests, serve each piece as you make it, in your kitchen. For frying, use a light, clean oil; grapeseed is probably best, but the more common (and cheaper) corn and safflower are good too. A frying or instant-read thermometer is a good idea, and temperatures of 330–350°F will work well for both vegetables and fish. If you don’t have a thermometer, put a drop of batter into the oil when you think it’s ready; it should neither sink to the bottom (too cold) nor immediately dance on the surface (too hot), but sink slightly beneath the surface and then rise to the top and skitter a bit.

You can make eggplant into fritters, seasoned with almost anything you like, but my taste here runs to Parmesan; the combination is magical. Fritters are usually deep-fried, but it isn’t necessary in this case. Here they are made into flat, pancake like forms and cooked in far less oil. Like most fried foods, these are best hot; but, as with most fritters, they’re acceptable up to a half hour after they’ve been made (and, though I wouldn’t serve them to company this way, they’re pretty good cold).

This tart calls for the same procedures as the Tomato Tart (preceding recipe), with a different but equally summery—and, with its bit of curry powder, more unusual—topping.

The slices of this Provençal custard are gorgeous, a yellow-and-green mosaic enhanced by the tomato coulis (a fancy word for “sauce”). Best warm or at room temperature, but not as good if it sees the inside of a refrigerator, so serve—as an appetizer or a main course for a light meal—within three or four hours. With thanks to Marie Martin.

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.

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.

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.

Vegetables are often used together with fish in traditional Italian cooking. This recipe is over the top and seems to have every available vegetable cooked with shrimp; to me it resembles jambalaya without the chicken and sausages, and it is great served over steamed rice or pasta.

This soup has weathered well among the generations of the Italian immigrant families that have cooked it. As I travel through America and look for the flavors and recipes the Italian immigrants brought with them, this recipe is almost always remembered fondly. It is still cooked with nostalgia and reverence, and at holidays, particularly in the homes of immigrants from southern Italy. It is a dish usually served when the whole family is at the table. Even if the “marriage” mostly likely refers to the marriage of the ingredients, the soup is also thought to give strength to a newly married couple for their wedding night.

Every region of Italy has its version of minestrone. The Italian American version seems always to have diced carrots, celery, potatoes, beans, and cabbage, rendering it distinct, with a touch of sour aftertaste. Variations include vegetables that were readily available in the small gardens Italian immigrants kept in their backyards or window boxes. Italian Americans love their minestrone so much that in 1949, Progresso Quality Foods began selling minestrone, as well as pasta e fagioli, in cans as a convenience food. At first the soup was available only in Italian American markets, but soon enough it hit mainstream America.

These pancakes are delicious with a dollop of sour cream.

The flavor improves with age and the bread keeps well frozen. You can also substitute pumpkin for zucchini.

What’s wrong with zucchini in a sandwich? Since my mother made these all the time for my brother and me, I’ve always considered it a perfectly normal idea. So, when Joe and Tanya were little, I’d make them each a lovely sandwich of a crusty roll filled with egg-battered zucchini strips for lunch at school. Years later, they confessed to me that they were ashamed to take such a peculiar sandwich out of their lunchboxes—so they threw out the zucchini before other kids could see it! Now, of course, they love the combination of crisp bread and moist, flavorful zucchini, and regret all the empty rolls they had to swallow. I tell Olivia, Lorenzo, and Miles to eat whatever they like, and forget about what other kids think.

You may be surprised to find recipes with chicken, veal, and pork cutlets in my vegetable chapter. But the inspiration for this distinctive group of dishes is the vegetables that cover and surround the small portions of meat. When zucchini, eggplant, and (especially) tomatoes are at their best in the summer—and when I’ve an abundance of fresh tomato sauce in the refrigerator and freezer—I cook these beautiful one-pot dinners. I call these “skillet gratinati” because a large skillet or sauté pan is an essential part of the cooking. First you sauté your vegetables (in some instances) in the skillet; then you gently brown the meat cutlets in the skillet; then you layer lovely individual servings in the skillet; and then you develop your sauce in the skillet. Finally, you place the whole skillet in a hot oven, where the meat and vegetables cook until tender, the sauce thickens, and the crowning layer of grated cheese turns into a golden, crisp gratinato. (The whole cooking process takes little more than half an hour.) The first stage, on top of the stove, is the most fun, when you create your main dish and sauce in one pan in minutes. Having all your components ready and staying close to the pan will ensure success with this simple dish. The gratinati here are similar in technique but offer different ideas for ingredients. The most detailed instruction is in the main recipe that follows, with briefer descriptions in the equally delicious variations (page 315 and page 317). Once you understand the process, do experiment, using different meats, vegetables, herbs, and sauces—make the skillet-gratinate technique your own.