Fry

Sandwiching two slices of bread with a mixture of bananas and walnuts results in French toast with a surprise filling. Try other favorite nuts in place of the walnuts, if you like. Accompany the French toast with bacon, ham, or sausage.

You may substitute beef round steak (have butcher run through cubing machine to tenderize) for venison if you like.

This fritter batter may be used for sliced fresh apples or bananas, or canned pineapple.

These hoecakes have become a favorite with our guests. Use them to soak up that good pot liquor from turnip or collard greens. After the plate is completely sopped clean, save one to eat as a dessert along with maple syrup.

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.

Simple fried skate was a supper treat when I was growing up, and it is still one of my family’s favorites of all fried seafoods. . . .

In my family, favorite dishes are always being altered according to what is available and what is best—especially when I’m cooking. Here’s a perfect example: chicken and potatoes, fried together in a big skillet so they’re crisp and moist at the same time, is my mother’s specialty. Growing up, my brother and I demanded it every week; our kids, Tanya and Joe and Eric, Paul and Estelle, clamored for it too. And now the next generation of little ones are asking their great-grandmother to make chicken and potatoes for them. When I am at the stove—and though I follow my mother’s basic procedures—I can’t resist playing around. Some days I add sausage to Grandma’s recipe, or capers or olives; I might douse the chicken with a splash of vinegar; sometimes I cut up a whole chicken, other times I’ll split little poussins or Cornish hens. If I’m in a hurry, I quickly cook small pieces of chicken breast with the potatoes. (You can see what experiments have worked well if you look through my previous books.) This recipe gives you Erminia’s classic formula—chicken, small potatoes, a bit of onion, and fresh rosemary—with two of my latest twists: pickled cherry peppers and bacon strips, in bite-sized rolls. Cherry peppers are plump golf-ball–sized antipasto peppers in vinegar that you’ll find in jars on the pickle shelves of the supermarket. They come in sweet and hot varieties—and the latter are explosive, if you take just a bite. But when they’re seeded, sliced, and added sparingly to the chicken, they imbue the dish with a mellow heat that I love. If you and your family are hot heads, cut up two or more peppers; otherwise slice only one, or use the sweet cherry peppers and see how you like that. My latest spin on our chicken-and-potato tradition is one everybody loves, especially the kids: we roll bacon slices into little bundles, pin each one closed with a toothpick, and caramelize them along with the chicken. The bacon fat slowly renders and lends the meat a layer of flavor that’s picked up by the potatoes and onions too. By the end of cooking, the rolls have turned into crisp morsels that are a treat to eat with the juicy chicken and tender potatoes. (But be sure to remove all the toothpicks!)

I have literally grown up on zucchini prepared in this simple way—sliced into thin strips, dipped in egg, and fried. It was one of my favorite vegetables when I was little, and quite often my mother made our lunch sandwiches with the strips too, for us to take to school. (It’s still a great sandwich; see page 23.) Crispy and sweet and soft at the same time, the strips are delicious warm or at room temperature, with just a sprinkle of salt—as I serve them to my grand-kids—or dressed with capers and lemon juice, for adult tastes. Rolled up and secured with toothpicks, these are a great finger food for a party—a preferred morsel for martini drinkers, I’ve noticed. They’re also a delicious side dish for grilled meats and fish. At summer suppers, I put a platter of roll-ups in the middle of the table, where everybody at any time can spear one with a fork.

We have all seen countless dishes called al Marsala on the menus of Italian-American restaurants. Too often, I have found, they disappoint me. The pork scaloppine I enjoyed at the Ferdinando brothers’ trattoria reminded me that this simple preparation depends so much on the quality of the wine that is splashed into the skillet. And I was not surprised to learn that the superb sauce coating the meat was made with a carefully chosen Marsala, dry and aromatic. After all, the town of Marsala lies just a few hours west of Palermo, and from that western tip of the island comes all authentic Marsala, in a wide range of vintages, colors, and degrees of sweetness. The finest Marsalas, aged a minimum of 10 years, are ranked with the great fortified wines of the world—sipping one of these is a pleasure you shouldn’t miss. But for good cooking, I recommend a moderately priced Superiore (aged 2 years) or Superiore Riserva (aged 4 years). I always prefer dry (secco) Marsala, even for desserts like Espresso Zabaglione (page 156); for these scaloppine, secco is a must.

Sicilians are passionate about both food and opera, so it is no surprise that one of the island’s most celebrated dishes is pasta alla Norma. What better way to honor the composer Vincenzo Bellini, a native son of Catania (on Sicily’s eastern coast), than to name a delicious pasta for Norma, one of the great operatic masterworks of all time? I love both the opera and the dish, and, I can assure you, aside from their name, they’re quite different. Those of you familiar with opera know that the title role of Norma is so difficult that only the greatest sopranos ever sing it. On the other hand, this recipe is simple and easily made.

Caponata is a dense condiment of chunky fried eggplant and other vegetables and seasonings, jam-packed with flavor—sweet, sour, and salty all at once. Sicilians make caponata in many variations and enjoy it in countless ways. Here’s a version I love. Use it as a condiment on grilled meats and steamed fish, as a sauce for pasta, or as topping for bruschetta.

The “cream” in this popular dish is actually a simple stovetop custard that is firm enough, when chilled, to cut into small blocks, coat with bread crumbs, and fry. Crispy on the outside, creamy on the inside, it is served in many regions of Italy. In some places, crema fritta is considered a savory, as in Emilia, where it is part of the fritto misto. But in Naples, I had crema fritta as a dolce, and I hope you enjoy this wonderful sweet.

In Padova, Treviso, and Venice (and elsewhere in Italy), sugar-dusted mounds of these fried cookies are served at weddings and holiday celebrations. They’re essential at pre-Lenten festivities. In the Veneto, it just wouldn’t be Carnevale without lots of crostoli! At our house, these are a favorite treat all year around. The dough is easy to mix in the food processor, and it’s fun for the whole family to make little ribbons and tie them in a knot. Make the cookies a few days in advance if you prefer, and powder with sugar just before serving.

Squash is not one of the most popular vegetables, but I love it and love cooking with it. It is nutritious, versatile, and delicious. Northern Italy consumes more zucca—winter squash—than southern Italy, especially in the areas near Modena in Emilia-Romagna, and Padova in the Veneto. This is a great side dish or appetizer. Traditionally, the zucca is fried before it is marinated, as I do here, but the dish is also delicious when made with grilled or boiled zucca. I recommend butternut squash, but acorn, Hubbard, and other varieties will work as well.

These cheese-encrusted rounds of cooked chard, similar to frico, are from Carnia, a district of quaint cities and towns scattered along the Carnic Alps. The milk from the cows grazing on its high-altitude pastures makes some of the best Montasio in all of Friuli. I like to serve these unusual and irresistible cakes as a highlight of lunch or brunch, topped with a poached egg, or in between slices of country bread, as a delectable vegetarian “cheeseburger.” They’re a marvelous accompaniment to grilled meats, or, cut into small wedges, a great party nibble.