Meal Prep

This rich dressing spikes through the creamy goodness and answers that “why doesn’t my dressing ever taste this good?” question. This recipe works as well with Mini Buffalo Chicken Balls (page 9) as it does ladled over a thick wedge of iceberg lettuce topped with a few olives, carrot shavings, and crumbled bacon to create a more-than-satisfying classic salad. This dressing will keep for up to five days in the fridge.

Addictive and easy, this is our version of a quick Asian-inspired sauce that we serve with Thai Balls (page 45). However, we also think it’s a smashing success alongside fresh-cut veggies as a crudités dipping sauce. Alternatively, try mixing a few tablespoons in with your next stir-fry or thinning it with water and serving it over Asian noodles. This sauce will keep for up to two weeks in the fridge.

Since everyone has his or her version of this sauce, we spent a lot of time getting this one right. No surprise, the best results came from using the best ingredients. When it comes to tomato sauce, using poor-quality canned tomatoes can leave an acidic or tinny taste in your mouth. So while it is a bit more expensive, we like to use Pomi brand chopped tomatoes (you know, the ones that come in the box). The sauce starts with a careful “sweating” of onions (cooking them slowly, until translucent but not brown, to extract as much flavor as possible), and the flavor continues to build from a nice, long, low-heat simmering after the tomatoes are added.

The highland sheep of Scotland and Ireland graze in rugged terrain with sparse vegetation. Fittingly, the seasoning for a lamb sausage one might find in those northern isles is somewhat understated. A few well-chosen aromatics, along with salt and pepper, suffice to make a tasty sausage that evokes that landscape and its restrained fare.

Water chestnuts are an underwater corm, and as you might imagine if you consider their natural environment, they are plump with water and crunchy. Their taste, on the other hand, is hard to pinpoint: it’s a cross between jicama and sugarcane with a hint of nuttiness, all diluted with water. In other words, it is somewhat bland. They are often used in Chinese and Southeast Asian dishes, mainly in stir-fries, for their snappy bite. That is also what they contribute to this sausage, which features Asian tastes. I use the sausage for stuffing wontons (page 55), for making small balls to top steamed rice, for mixing into udon noodles, or for wrapping in lettuce leaves as the Thai and Laotians do with minced meats (page 119) and the Vietnamese do with savory meatballs (page 60). Fresh water chestnuts are rarely found in markets, even those geared to an Asian clientele. They are seasonal and as much of a chore to peel as tree chestnuts (not a relative, despite the name). Canned water chestnuts fill that niche. They are available in grocery stores where even only a small amount of space is devoted to Asian ingredients. This sausage recipe calls for much less than what you get in a 6-ounce can, usually the smallest size sold. The remainder can be stored covered with fresh water in the refrigerator and used in homey stir-fries, salads, and slaws.

There’s almost no turn in Tuscany that doesn’t provide some sensory joy. Driving its curvy roads through low hills gently swelling up from narrow, verdant valleys, you discover olive groves that produce some of the world’s finest olive oil and vineyards that yield some of the world’s most renowned wines. Exploring the region’s old towns and cities on foot, you wind your way through dozens of museums full of famous artworks and wander into back-alley churches and quaint shops stacked with Tuscan treasures. And everywhere, there is fabulous food. The Tuscans have long produced delicious salumi, that special form of pork cookery, called charcuterie in France, that comprises prosciutto, mortadella, soppressata, salamis and other cured meats, along with fresh sausages particular to the region. In this recipe, sundried tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella flavor fresh pork sausage to deliver the taste of Tuscany.

The fennel-spiked sausage that turns up in such favorite Italian American preparations as pizza, meatball sandwiches (page 38), custardy casseroles, and savory pies has so captured the heart of American cooking that it can be found in supermarkets and deli cases from the Atlantic seaboard to the Pacific Northwest and everywhere in between. Not only is it one of the tastiest and most popular sausages, but it is also one of the easiest to make at home because it doesn’t require a casing. In fact, most recipes call for taking it out of its casing. If you want to serve the sausage as links, stuff it into hog casing. The recipe yields a larger amount than the other recipes in the book because this sausage is so versatile that I like to have some on hand in the freezer.

I opened Pig-by-the-Tail because I wanted to bring to the American marketplace the charcuterie I had fallen in love with on sojourns to France, Spain, Italy, Germany, and Austria. Two years after its debut, I decided it was time to put some “bones” onto that passion. I traveled to France to learn from M. Roger Gleize, the charcutier in the small town of Revel in the Haute-Garonne just outside of Toulouse. It was an eye-opening experience to watch him use a hand grinder to grind pounds and pounds of perfectly succulent pork, not too lean, not too fat, for the region’s specialty Toulouse sausage. He seasoned the meat with salt, peppers, and a dash each of nutmeg and sugar, and then added a soupçon of water to moisten the mixture for easier stuffing. He fitted the same manual machine with a sausage-stuffing funnel and proceeded to turn out a seemingly endless supply of fresh Toulouse sausages. Everything he made was quickly purchased by local households to use for their daily meals and by local restaurants to include in the renowned cassoulet of the region. From that sojourn, I carried home a deep admiration for simply, yet perfectly done ways with food, and Toulouse sausage became one of my go-to household sausages. For this book, I have modified the recipe to call for bulk sausage, rather than links. But, if you would like to follow tradition, use hog casing.

Contrary to what you might think, making a fine vegetable broth is not a matter of tossing any vegetable matter into a pot and boiling it up. The vegetables you start with need not be picture perfect, but starchy vegetables, such as potatoes, should not be part of the mix or the broth will turn out murky, and brassicas, like cabbage and broccoli, are also not good to use or the broth will not be clear tasting. Then, don’t stint on the amount of vegetables for the amount of broth you would like to wind up with. One tomato and one chard leaf do not a tasty broth make. There should be enough water so that the vegetables barely float, but not any more. Cook the broth until the vegetables are very soft but not disintegrating; this helps make a clear broth. Following is a mix and method I use to make a good-size batch of vegetable broth that is rich enough to serve on its own as a bouillon or use as a base for any soup.

These are dead easy to make and have endless applications in the kitchen. Use them to baste or brown ingredients and they will add pizzazz and excitement to stews and roasts. Likewise, they will jazz up a panful of onions or other vegetables for a soup or sauce and impart character to fish dishes. Herb oils come into their own when drizzled over summer or winter salads; they are also excellent used in mayonnaises and dressings. The basic principle is to choose robust flavorings and leave them for long enough to impart their mighty characters to the oil. Always use a good-quality oil as your base (see pp. 30–31). In all cases, to prevent the oil from becoming rancid, store in a cool place and use within 6 months.

Season: more or less anytime. A good vegetable bouillon or stock can be the making of many a soup, risotto, or sauce. Preparing your own stock from scratch is easy enough–but it does take a little time, so an instant alternative is often welcome. The choice of vegetable bouillon powders and stock cubes on the market is pretty limited. There are one or two good products, but if you use them frequently, you might find an underlying uniformity creeping into your cooking. This is my solution. Whip up your very own souper mix–a concentrated paste of fresh vegetables simply preserved with salt. It’s quick and easy to make and the stock it produces is delicious. You can use just about any herbs or vegetables you like–the important thing is that they are fresh and taste as vegetable-y as possible. My preferred ingredients are indicated in this recipe, but you could also use young turnips, shallots, celery, rutabagas, beets, or peppers, as well as bay leaves, thyme, lovage, or mint–almost anything, really. Just bear in mind that the character of the stock will vary depending on the ingredients you choose. The following are prepared weights; i.e., the ingredients should be washed, trimmed, and peeled (where necessary).

Season: July to August. The big, platelike leaves of the nasturtium plant (Tropaeolum majus) are abundant throughout the summer and often well into the golden months of autumn. With their peppery flavor, they make the perfect base for a fiery pesto. Add a sprig or two of garden mint, a few golden marigold petals, and some spicy nasturtium seeds and you have a wonderful sauce to stir into pasta, swirl on soups, or just smear in a sandwich. Pick the leaves on a warm, dry day–ideally, earlier in the summer, before the caterpillars have decided to feast on them. Whenever I make pesto, I replace the traditional Parmesan with a hard goat’s cheese, matured for a year. It makes an excellent alternative to Parmesan in all kinds of dishes.

Season: August to September. The fig is a member of the mulberry family and is generally best suited to warmer climates. A contented, well-positioned homegrown tree can crop well, usually in August and September. There are countless varieties, ranging in color from purply black to yellowy green–any can be used for this recipe. Just make sure, when picking or buying, that your figs are ripe, as they do not ripen after picking. This recipe uses a simplified version of the oven method. Everything is cooked and hot to start with, so it’s not necessary to heat the jars for an extended time in the oven. A few jars of these honey-soaked fruits, stored away for the winter months, will be a blissful reminder that the hot days of summer were not just a fig-ment of your imagination. .

Season: January to February. The arrival of the early, forced rhubarb in January deserves a salutation of the greatest magnitude, and I can never wait to savor its fresh, earthy energy. The blushing stalks, with their tart but delicate flavor, are strictly seasonal, so be sure you don’t miss the chance to preserve a jar or two to enjoy later in the year.

Season: November to March. Preserved lemons have a strong association with Middle Eastern and North African cuisines, and their unique zesty, salty yet mellow flavor permeates many of the traditional meat and couscous dishes of those regions. Strips of preserved lemon can also be added to salads, soups, and dressings, or mixed with olives and other appetizers. They are exceptionally easy to prepare, and I like to make them around the turn of the year when the new season’s lemons from Spain and Italy are in the shops.

Season: Anytime. This is a wonderful, frugal recipe that complements some of the other fruity preserves in the book because it uses the apple scraps and citrus skins that would normally be destined for the compost heap or bin. These skins are full of flavor and rich in pectin, so it’s a shame not to use them. For the cost of a bag of sugar (and a bit of your time), you can transform them into a really fruity, marmalade-flavored jelly. It functions nicely as an emergency breakfast preserve when your last jar of marmalade has been eaten and the seasonal Sevilles haven’t yet arrived in the shops.

Season: September to November. Autumn is the season for apples. For centuries, the apple crop has been important, and the apple tree cherished and celebrated for its fruit. Wassailing is an English West Country tradition when, on Twelfth Night of old (January 17), country folk toast and drink to the health of the largest and most prolific apple tree in the orchard for a healthy, fruitful crop the coming season. The sharp and bittersweet qualities of cider give this old-fashioned apple butter a special flavor. It’s a sensational fruity spread to daub over hot buttered toast or crumpets.

Season: Mid-January to late March. Early or forced rhubarb has been produced in West Yorkshire since the 1870s, as growers discovered that the heavy clay soil and cold winter climate suited the plant (a native of Siberia). Sequestered in dark sheds, carefully cultivated rhubarb crowns send forth slender, bright pink stems much more delicate in flavor than the thick green shafts of outdoor-grown rhubarb that appear later in the year. This is one of my favorite ways to capture the earthy flavor of rhubarb. It’s a plant that contains very little pectin, so the jam definitely requires an extra dose. The shortish boil time helps to preserve the fabulous color of the stems. I like to add a little Seville orange juice, but juice from sweet oranges works well too. This light, soft jam is good mixed with yogurt or spooned over ice cream, or you can warm it and use to glaze a bread and butter pudding after baking.

Makin’ your own stock is a bit time-consuming, but the reward is in the depth of flavor it brings to any dish. There’s nothing hard about the preparation, and it makes your house smell delicious.