Deep Fry

These are best eaten slightly warm.

If at any point the dough gets too soft to work with or begins to shrink, refrigerate for 15 minutes before proceeding.

Make sure to use at least a 5-quart saucepan so the oil won’t bubble over.

After cooking the onion rings, keep them warm in a 200°F oven while you finish the remaining batches.

Yuca is a starchy root with tough, brown skin, crisp, white flesh, and a mild flavor. It is also known as cassava.

Fried fish is the traditional filling of Baja tacos. They are simply garnished with shredded cabbage, pico de gallo, and sour cream.

To stuff the squash blossoms easily, spoon the filling into a pastry bag fitted with a coupler; pipe it directly into each blossom.

Select plantains that are firm and green.

There is wild tufted mint between the megalithic stones of its befogged and silent fields. And Africa whispers up sultry winds, caressing the place, adding to the sensation of faraway. This is the island of Giovanni di Lampedusa, author of Il Gattopardo, The Leopard. It is a mystical space etched by the ancients, one after another of them who, having stayed for a while, imprinted it, abandoned it, to its own muffled secrets and to the great lumbering turtles and seals who live there still. Surely not Italy, not, perhaps, Sicilia nor even Africa, it is somewhere else, this Lampedusa. Inhabited, finally, without interruption since 1843, when the king Ferdinando II came to claim it, a family descended from this settlement was once our host. The children and their nanny showed us the best, most secret places to collect the wild mint of which we’d grown so fond, we making a salad of its leaves and other wild grasses when enough of it could be foraged. One afternoon, after a particularly good harvest, we emptied our pockets of it onto the kitchen table, thinking we’d all feast on it at dinner, and went upstairs to bathe and rest. Later, the loveliest of perfumes told us that the mint had been seized by the cook and that she’d done something magnificent with it and tomatoes. Here follows a version of her gorgeous frittelle.

So unlike the exquisitely wrought sweetmeats of other southern pasticcerie, pastry in Basilicata is often in the form of some rustic fried fritter, its batter honey-sweetened and studded with raisins or nuts. The most luscious version, though, is the one that asks for ricotta and dark rum. We found them being made in a small shop with an even smaller selling counter on a little street off the Via Pretoria, just before one reaches Piazza Mario Pagano in Potenza. On more than one iced winter’s morning have we stood outside its doors and waited for the sugar-dusted, crisp-crusted warmth of them.

Historically the Napoletani have been able and brilliant friggitori—fryers of food. Until only a few years past and sometimes, still, in the quarters of the poor, the very air was thick with the scents of food being crisped to a light gold in boiling oil. The humble kiosks of the friggitori, traditionally wagons fitted with cauldrons, were wheeled about the dank alleyways, the friggitori wailing out the worth of their salty wares, promising them to be “nuvole ricoperte d’un manto dorato”—“clouds mantled in gold.” Sometimes, the offering was a nugget of simple bread dough stretched out and fried, then dusted in sea salt and anointed with oil, other times there might be little croquettes of rice and cheese or fritters of broccoli or artichokes. Often, though, the friggitori brought forth lusciously crunchy half-moons of dough plumped with mozzarella and known as panzarotti. Our favorite kiosk sits, still, in front of the Pizzeria Bellini, just down the street from the Accademia delle Belli Arti in Via Costantinopoli, a tiny quiver of space where one can stand, at nine in the morning, even, to bite at hot, too hot, savories while listening to two violins, a viola, a violoncello, and a Baroque guitar working through Boccherini. Here follows a version of panzarotti made from course dough rolled thin, laid with mozzarella, pecorino, and bits of salty meat or tomato or anchovy, folded over and cast into whorls of bubbling oil.

Churros and chocolate have a long history at Lucques, and an even longer one in Spain, where they dominate the dessert scene in late-night cafés. The hot chocolate is made thick and syrupy sweet, meant for dipping the piping-hot crullers. In preparation for one Spanish-themed Sunday supper, my former pastry chef Kimberly Sklar experimented with traditional churro recipes from Spanish cookbooks. Though the flavors were good, the Spanish versions seemed a little too heavy and not tender enough for our liking. Then Kim tried a batch of pâte à choux, the traditional French dough used to make such pastries as cream puffs and éclairs. It was the perfect solution. Next we set out to conquer the chocolate. Again, in my opinion, the traditional Spanish hot chocolate was better in theory than in reality. Spaniards love sugar, and their version is just too sweet for my taste. Still thick and rich in the vein of the traditional chocolate, ours is super-chocolaty but not as cloyingly sweet. I like to add a generous pinch of salt, to play up the bittersweet notes of the chocolate. This is a festive, interactive dessert that requires some last-minute attention when it’s time to fry the churros. Make the batter and hot chocolate ahead, and just before you serve dessert, invite your friends into the kitchen to help you fry. It’s fun to watch the dough transform into deep golden brown snakes and then to roll them in the glittery cinnamon-sugar.

These leaf-shaped chrusciki (khroost-CHEE-kee) are adapted from Martha’s mother’s classic Polish recipe. The dough is kneaded for a while, to incorporate lots of air into it and keep the finished cookies light and delicate. If you’re storing fried cookies, wait until just before serving to dust them with confectioners’ sugar.

This recipe is so simple it’s downright hard. We’re talking about only three ingredients here—potatoes, oil, and salt. But you’ve got to pay close attention to those ingredients and their handling to come out with crispy, erect french fries. Make sure you read Fry Obsession (see below) before you start.

We give catfish a good soaking in seasoned buttermilk before we coat and fry it. It tenderizes and sweetens up the fish, which we serve with our favorite spicy tartar sauce. You’ll find it on our appetizer menu every day and in a sandwich on Fridays.