Alcohol

Many Sicilian dishes feature swordfish, since it is very plentiful in the waters surrounding the island. Eggplant is also found in many dishes from this area, but I prefer the texture and taste of Japanese eggplants over the larger ones because their seeds are so tiny; there is also no need to salt the cubed eggplant because they aren’t as bitter as the fully mature ones can be.

Using cinnamon to flavor a beef dish may sound strange to anyone who is not familiar with the cuisine of southern Italy, where the Moorish influence is apparent in the seasonings of many dishes. I promise, though, the spice is a fantastic addition. The cinnamon gives the sauce a little sweetness and a little heat all in one without being spicy, per se. Try it.

I really prefer the texture of fresh pappardelle with the savory lamb stew; it just seems to absorb the flavors better. If you can’t find fresh pappardelle, though, the dried kind is perfectly acceptable, and it’s good to have on hand to toss with any leftover braised meats and their braising liquid for a quick, warming meal.

This is a typically Italian way of preparing chicken, but Italians rarely combine chicken with pasta; by serving chicken over wide ribbons of fettuccine I’ve created a hybrid Italian-American one-dish meal.

Stroll through any Italian-American street fair and you’ll smell this classic combo. But while sausage and peppers are great in a sandwich, I think they’re even better tossed with rigatoni. Using turkey sausages instead of the more traditional pork also makes it a little lighter.

Sweet yellow peppers are exceptionally rich in vitamin C. Serve the soup either hot for a comforting wintertime meal, or chilled in the warm-weather months.

A relative of spinach and beets, Swiss chard offers fantastic antioxidant protection in the form of carotenoids, which help maintain eye health, boost immunity, and may even fight cancer. Here, chard leaves are rolled around a protein-rich quinoa-mushroom filling for an elegant entrée.

Steaming a pot of shellfish is actually quite simple—and quick. It requires just a small amount of aromatic liquid, such as the wine used in the recipe below, which imparts flavor to the shellfish while also mixing with the flavorful liquid released from the shellfish, resulting in a delicious broth. And the shells serve as a “steamer basket,” keeping the shellfish from being submerged in the liquid. A dry white wine is used as the steaming liquid; other good choices would be beer or water (you could even forgo adding liquid and steam the mussels in a covered pot until they open, as they have enough liquid in their shells, then sprinkle with salt and pepper). Here some aromatics are sautéed before the liquid is added to enhance its flavor before adding the mussels. In Belgium and France, mussels are traditionally accompanied by piping hot French Fries (page 333), but a crusty loaf of bread is always welcome.

Although it may seem like a complicated restaurant dish, bouillabaisse has simple origins in the French seaport city of Marseille, where there is an abundance of freshly caught seafood (and an aversion to waste). Julia Child defined it as a “fisherman’s soup, made from the day’s catch,” or from its leftovers. What it actually consists of depends on whom you ask. A pot will typically have at least four types of fish (some insist on no fewer than seven) and a roster of regional ingredients, notably fennel, garlic, saffron, tomatoes, orange zest, and olive oil. Purists would insist on using fish only from the local (Marseille) waters and absolutely no shellfish, while others take a more liberal approach, improvising here and there but basically sticking to the same formula. Most everyone agrees on the required accompaniments: rouille and croutons made from a crusty baguette. The process for making the stock, which is similar to a classic fish fumet (page 55) but with Mediterranean flavors, takes little time; since it gives the finished dish its rich flavor, don’t skimp on this step. Rouille is a variation of mayonnaise (page 95), with spices, garlic, and fish stock for added flavors as well as bread for a rustic texture. It has a tawny color from the addition of saffron (hence its name, which means “rust” in French).

This stew is a variation on the well-known French favorite, boeuf bourguignon, also made with mushrooms and onions; here, stout replaces the red wine, but you could make the stew with either. There are a few steps that help enrich the flavor of this dish, all of which are classic in making some stews. First, lardons are cooked to render their fat for use in subsequent steps (they are added to the stew at the end, too). Next, the beef is browned and the pan deglazed to incorporate all of the tasty bits. Then, a bit of Dijon mustard is stirred into the aromatics. For even richer flavor, you can add about a half cup of glace de Viande (page 52) along with the stock. The stew is thickened with a small amount of flour and by simple reduction; that’s why the lid is kept partially askew while the stew simmers, to allow some moisture to escape. Buttery noodles make a perfect accompaniment, as they soak up some of the flavorful broth, while julienned carrots and freshly grated horseradish add fresh flavors—and a little textural contrast—to the otherwise rich dish.

This recipe makes good use of a bone-in cut that takes very well to braising. The ribs are marinated overnight in red wine to give them a deep flavor, then the marinade is reduced to a sauce that glazes the meat. You will need to start with more liquid than in other braising recipes, to avoid having to turn the ribs frequently during cooking, but this leaves excess liquid that must be reduced separately later, before it can be used for glazing (all that reducing is advantageous, since it concentrates the flavors for a rich and unctuous sauce). To do this, use a technique called depouillage, whereby the pan is placed off-center over the burner as the liquid simmers, allowing the impurities to collect on one side for easy skimming and discarding.

Deep frying works best for smaller pieces of fish (and chicken), since they will cook through before the crust has a chance to darken too much. Most any type of coating will do, but beer batter is favored for its puffy yet sturdy crust. The beer’s effervescence produces a lighter texture than those made with other liquids (such as buttermilk) and imparts subtle flavor, depending on the type of beer used (the dark beer used here will be more perceptible than lighter lagers). You can alter the flavor by whisking dried herbs (dill is great with fish), ground dried chiles, and other seasonings into the dry ingredients. This batter also makes a nice choice when coating shrimp, chicken tenders, and onion rings. Pair the fish with French fries (page 333) and serve with malt vinegar and salt for authentic pub-style fish and chips. Or make Baja-style tacos de pescado, or batter-fried fish tacos (page 276).

This recipe employs many classic techniques of braising. To finish the sauce, the liquid is first reduced (a common thickening method) and then a secondary thickener called a beurre manié, a mixture of flour and butter, is added. Beurre manié can be added to most any sauce that seems to need a bit more body. And since the flavor of pork pairs well with apples, hard cider is used to braise the meat. For variation, the standard French mirepoix of onion, carrot, and celery is replaced with parsnip, celery root, and leek. If you don’t have a pot with a tight-fitting lid, cover your pot with aluminum foil lined with parchment paper and then the lid (you can even use the lid from another, similar-size pot or pan). Check 30 minutes after placing the pot in the oven to make sure that the liquid is gently simmering; if not, raise the temperature by 25 degrees, return the liquid to a boil on top of stove, and return the pot to the oven to finish cooking. (If vigorously boiling, decrease temperature by 25 degrees.)

Not all sauté recipes start with dredging the meat in flour. Instead, this recipe demonstrates how meat can achieve a nice sear simply by relying on the high heat of the pan (and a little science, called the Maillard reactions; see page 126). To encourage browning, you must make sure the meat is dry, as moisture will hinder the process. First, pat the meat dry with paper towels and wait to salt it until just before cooking (since salt will draw the juices to the surface). The sautéed meat will leave golden-brown bits behind, so you’ll want to deglaze the pan and incorporate them into a pan sauce. This one is made with a fragrant combination of brandy, shallots, apples, and raisins (all good partners for pork) and finished with cream, which thickens as it simmers, giving body to the sauce.

Fumet is a white stock made from fish bones and aromatic vegetables, which are first “sweated” (cooked until soft but not taking on any color), then simmered in water. That initial step is a crucial building block, eliciting a touch of sweetness from the leek and developing the flavors for the next step, though it will produce a stock with less clarity than when the aromatics are simply brought to a boil with the rest. (To achieve that result, follow recipe for Basic Chicken Stock on page 41, bringing the fish bones and heads to a boil, then adding vegetables, bay leaf, and peppercorns and simmering 30 minutes before straining.) With its concentrated flavor, fumet is ideal for making fish soups and stews, or for steaming shellfish, such as the Clams in Herbed Broth on page 219. Like other stocks, fumet can be altered for different effects. Increase the ratio of bones to water and you will have a stock with more pronounced fish flavor. For a Mediterranean-style stock, chopped garlic and fennel (and its fronds) can be sweated with the other aromatics, then crushed tomatoes, crumbled saffron, and a few parsley stems added and simmered in the pot along with everything else.

One of the best reasons to make your own basic brown stock is that it means French onion soup from scratch is within easy reach. (You can also make the soup with white beef stock, page 42.) Like many other bistro classics, French onion soup has humble origins as a staple of thrifty households, where a pot of stock—itself born of frugality—was the foundation for many family meals. Even those with limited resources could make soupe a l’oignon since it calls for little else: pounds of inexpensive and readily available onions, a crusty baguette (providing a way to use up day-old bread), and a chunk of sharp Gruyère cheese, grated to turn a little into a lot. Because there are so few components, each one is enhanced in some way to contribute to the final dish. The homemade stock provides both color and robust taste, as well as ensuring a silky consistency. Caramelizing the onions gives them a wonderful sweetness (and more dark brown color). Toasted bread adds a textural note, while gratinéed cheese introduces another pleasing component. Similar to the burnt-sugar shell atop crème brûlée, the molten, golden crown invites tucking into with a spoon. This recipe can be halved, but since the soup freezes well, it is worth making the full amount.

Brown stock gets its color—and its flavor—from the initial step of roasting bones and vegetables, often with a bit of tomato paste added to promote browning and impart a caramelized flavor, as well as a touch of acidity. After the contents of the pan are transferred to a stockpot, the pan is deglazed (either with water or red wine) to incorporate all the flavorful browned bits, which then, too, get added to the pot. In classical French cooking, brown stock is made with veal bones to produce a delicate-bodied soup. In the recipe that follows, beef is added for deeper flavor, but you can replace the beef with more veal bones (or veal stew meat) for the traditional version. Brown stock can also be made with chicken (see variation); this would be ideal for using in more robust dishes, such as braised meats. Heed the general rules for making all stocks, including simmering very gently, skimming frequently, and keeping enough liquid in the pot so that everything is submerged at all times. Brown stock is also the basis for other classic preparations, including demi glace and glace de viande (see page 52).

What I like most about this mussels preparation is that they are not simply steamed in white wine, like the vast majority of mussels you see in restaurants. We cook them with a light tomato sauce—and, yes, also white wine—and toss in piles of herbs after the mussels are cooked, so the herbs wilt only slightly. The finished dish manages to be original and familiar at the same time. It also couldn’t be easier to make.

For this dish, we braise squid in red wine and orange rind. The rind gives the sauce a slight bitterness that can seem overwhelming until you eat it on crostini with a dab of mayonnaise, and then it all comes together. We serve it as a condiment for pasta in the Osteria, which would be a perfect use for leftovers because when dressing pasta, a little goes a long way. We use calamarata, a short ring-shaped pasta that mimics the shape of squid rings, or paccheri, a long, tubular pasta that flattens when it cooks.