Red Wine

The New World version of the preceding recipe, this includes Spain’s capers (which, ironically, the Spanish version usually does not) and a bit more seasoning. Once again, you can use other meat in place of oxtails and can make this in advance, then refrigerate and skim the fat. This would be great with Coconut Rice (page 516) or any rice and bean dish, and Platanos Maduros (page 472). Other cuts of meat you can use here: short ribs, lamb shanks, chunks of boneless lamb or pork shoulder (which will be much faster) or beef chuck or brisket (which will be somewhat faster), bone-in chicken thighs (much quicker).

This dish nicely combines the Mediterranean trio of garlic, red wine, and coriander. I first had it in southern Spain, where the culinary influence of North Africa remains strong. Like most braises, it takes time but, once the initial browning is done, very little work. There are a couple of ways to deal with the coriander: You can leave the seeds whole and wrap them in cheesecloth or just leave them in the sauce and eat them. Or you can crack them first, either with a mortar and pestle or by putting them in a plastic bag and crushing them with a rolling pin or the bottom of a pot. I like crusty bread here, plus a salad or steamed vegetable; the dish is complex and attention-grabbing enough not to bother with much more. Other cuts of meat you can use here: lamb shoulder is a great substitute; chunks of beef chuck or brisket are also good.

A typical dish from the southern French countryside. Lentils are combined with lamb shanks, red wine, and not much else, and they cook for a couple of hours. While becoming beyond tender, the lentils also absorb the flavors of the lamb, the wine, and the aromatics sprinkled among them. The result is a one-pot meal—a salad or a little bread, or both, would round things out nicely—that takes some time but little work or attention. Other cuts of meat you can use here: short ribs.

Think of this as osso buco, Russian style; the technique is almost identical to that in the following, better-known classic, but the result is sweeter and more fragrant. Serve with pilaf or buttered noodles. If you are lucky enough to find fresh sour cherries, by all means use them; pit about a pound and add them to the pan as you would bottled sour cherries, along with about 1/4 cup sugar and a bit more stock. Other cuts of meat you can use here: as in classic osso buco, you will lose something by substituting chunks of boneless veal for the shank, but you will gain time, and the results will still be quite good.

As with all braised vegetable dishes, the results here depend largely on the quality of two ingredients: the vegetable itself and the braising liquid. Since it’s easy enough to find good leeks, you have to be certain that the red wine is, if not great, then at least drinkable; and if you have good homemade stock, this is the place to use it. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: Belgian endive, split in half the long way; onions, halved or quartered (or spring onions, left whole).

Among my favorite squid dishes. Although sautéing, stir-frying, and deep-frying are good, fast techniques for squid, they tend to be messy because of squid’s marked tendency to spatter when cooked in oil. A gentle braise in flavorful liquid and seasonings is the perfect alternative, and this one, with its Provençal spirit, is delicious and warming. See page 98 if you buy squid that hasn’t been cleaned. Crusty bread is a must; keep the vegetable simple.

This is a dark pasta sauce served in much of Italy, made with stewed, shredded meat. I like to make it with duck legs, though you could use rabbit, pork—cut from the ribs or shoulder—or even the dark meat of a good chicken (hardest to find). The meat must first be braised in red wine or, even simpler, cooked in its own fat as I do here. That’s the only time-consuming part of the process, and it may be done a day or more in advance. (Refrigerate both meat and juices if you complete this step more than an hour or two before proceeding.) Sharp pecorino Romano is a better choice of cheese than Parmesan here, though chopped parsley also makes a good garnish.

If you love octopus, this dish will satisfy your cravings. Just be sure to allow enough time for the octopus to become fully tender. (You can also use squid, which will cook much more quickly.) This dish employs the unusual but excellent technique of completing the cooking of the pasta in its sauce, something done throughout Italy.

You can poach dried figs, of course, but fresh ones achieve a kind of swollen, bursting tenderness that is sublimely sensual. Green figs, not quite fully ripe, are best for this purpose, but the more common Black Mission figs—also not quite ripe—are almost as good.

A light, appealing dessert that is a French classic. You may simply serve the pears after poaching them but the browning is a very nice touch. Pinot Noir is the ideal wine for this, but any fruity, not-too-tannic red will do.

A classic tapa that’s challenging only to the extent that it’s hard to find good chorizo; it should not be too well dried but rather fresh and soft. Plenty is being made in the States now, especially in Florida, California, and New York—the major centers of Latin cuisine. Since chorizo is so intensely flavored already, it takes few ingredients to make this dish, but it’s still pretty powerful. In northwestern Spain they make this with the local sidra Asturiana, or hard cider; to try it that way, omit the garlic and parsley and substitute hard cider (English, French, or American hard cider is fine) for the red wine.

Chicago is the birthplace of this sandwich, and Al’s “#1 Italian Beef Sandwich” claims to be the best. The last time I was there, there was a line, and the outside tables were full of people munching on the beef sandwich. However, I think the recipe below will give you a sandwich much closer to what the Italian American immigrants were and still are making for their families. The Italian beef sandwich seems to have its roots in Italian weddings and celebrations as a frugal way to offer meat. The boneless beef rump, an otherwise tough piece of beef, when marinated, roasted, and cut into thin slices, and then topped with lots of Italian-style vegetables, went a long way served as a sandwich. This recipe makes enough for a crowd, or you could halve the recipe and feed a smaller group. That will be a problem if you just want a sandwich for yourself, but I think the only true way to get this sandwich to be as good as it can be is to make it from a whole rump roast. You can always enjoy the leftovers later.

Before I give you this recipe, I must tell you a story. It is about a tall, handsome, talented young man who walked into our restaurant one hot Saturday afternoon. This beautiful young man had an equally beautiful and charming young woman on his arm. I could hear the wait staff just a’buzzing. Being ever watchful, I came out into the dining room to make sure all was well. I saw that our hostess had seated the couple, so I walked over and introduced myself and welcomed them to our home. That hot afternoon I had the pleasure of getting to know Harry Connick, Jr., and his lovely wife, Jill. I have Harry and Jill to thank for one of the most memorable nights of my life. Harry was performing that night at the Johnny Mercer Theater, but much to my dismay I had been too busy to get tickets. I laughingly told Harry that with the exception of him, just about everyone I cared to see in concert was dead, and because of my lack of organization I was going to miss this opportunity. With a sweet smile and a twinkle in his eye he said, “Well, I’m just not going on tonight if you’re not going to be there.” I repeated that I didn’t have a ticket. Harry and Jill just smiled and said, “Yes you do. We’ll have five tickets waiting at the box office for you and your two sons and their dates. Be there at 7:30.” Shortly before show time Harry called the restaurant to see what was cooking. Well, every Saturday night we serve our wonderful Southern Pot Roast and Mashed Potatoes on the buffet. Harry’s instructions were to put as much pot roast and mashed potatoes on one plate as we could, and to fill another plate with Jill’s favorite, the collard greens. I was home getting ready to attend the concert when our manager, Renee, called to ask if I could pick the plates up on my way to the concert. I agreed, and said, “While you’re fixing Harry’s and Jill’s plates, how about a platter of fried chicken and biscuits for the band members?” So my sons, their dates, and I, loaded down with food, took off for the concert. We had the pleasure of feeding the Connicks for a second time on that steaming hot day of August 21, 1999. The concert was wonderful! Harry left me speechless in the middle of his performance by recounting our meeting and describing the meals that he and Jill had enjoyed that day. Just when I thought he couldn’t be sweeter, Harry dedicated his next song to me. The song was “Sensational.” Needless to say, I was a puddle in my chair! Thank you, Harry and Jill, for a wonderful night. How proud your parents must be to have raised such gracious, thoughtful, considerate people. This one’s for you, Harry!

The flavor in this recipe really comes out if you can let the duck marinate in the seasoning for a few hours or overnight.

Beef shoulder, usually called the chuck, is the source of many flavorful cuts of meat. One of my favorites for braising is the compact boneless chuck roast, taken from underneath the shoulder blade. There’s so much connective tissue and fat in the meat that long, moist cooking will produce soft, delicious meat, whatever you put in the pot. This braise, however, is a special one, inspired by my connection to and love for Venice and its special place in culinary history—La Serenissima, as the state of Venice was called, was a center for the spice trade and the silk route through the Middle East to the Orient for over 600 years. The use of exotic, imported spices in cooking signaled a well-to-do household with a rich kitchen. I get excited just assembling the spices and flavorings (including coffee and cocoa) for this. And when the exotic perfume arises from the bubbling wine that fills the pot, I hate to leave the kitchen, even though there’s almost no work to do once the beef begins its 3 hours of braising.

Tortelli are ravioli by another name—a square, filled pasta. And though they vary greatly, like all pastas, tortelli often are filled with fresh ricotta and spinach or other greens, herbs, or vegetables. In Maremma, where carnivorous appetites rule, such a meatless approach is not typical. As you’ll find in this set of recipes, tortelli maremmani have meat inside and outside—and lots of it. Fried chopped chicken livers plump up the tortelli, in addition to ricotta and spinach. Once cooked, the tortelli are dressed with a typical ragù maremmano, made with three chopped meats slowly cooked in tomatoes. My friend Alma likes best boar, chicken, and pork, but here I call for veal, pork, and sausage, because I find that combination comes close to the complexity of the boar. Of course, if you can get boar, by all means use it. This is a great pasta, and worth all the stirring and stuffing. However, it is not necessary to make everything here and put the ingredients together in just one way. The components of tortelli maremmani give many options for delicious meals (and convenient advance preparation). For instance, it’s fine to make the filling and the pasta for the tortelli and leave the ragù for another day. You can sauce your tortelli simply with sage butter, pages 49–50, or just shower them with Tuscan olive oil and Pecorino Toscano. On the other hand, go right to the ragù recipe—skip the tortelli—and make this marvelous sauce to dress any pasta, fresh or dry, or polenta or gnocchi. Indeed, the ragù recipe makes enough for two or more meals. Toss a couple of cups of ragù with spaghetti for a fabulous (and fast) supper one night, and freeze the rest. It will still be perfect whenever you do get a chance to roll and fill those plump tortelli maremmani.

A cold-weather tradition I remember fondly took place around the fogoler, or open hearth, of my maternal grandparents’ home. When neighbors would stop by to visit, everybody would gather around the crackling fire and talk. My grandparents would serve zuppa istriana, hearty spiced wine, to satisfy and warm their guests. My grandmother would roast some quince in the hearth, and have a pan of wine nestled in the coals, perking away. Then she would combine the two and pour the soup into a boccaletta, a ceramic pitcher. The pitcher was then passed around the hearth, and everybody would fish out a piece of quince with a fork (or sometimes with a thin sharp twig), take a good sip from the pitcher, and pass it on. The ceramic boccaletta was always considered a hospitable vessel, since no one could see how much one drank from it. Today I prepare zuppa istriana when the snow begins to pile up outside and I want to have something warm and comforting to welcome my friends and family in from the cold.

Ladies, this is my go-to drink on a warm summer day. And don’t you know, men love it, too (even though it’s pink!). It’ll satisfy any thirst you may have worked up, but go easy, because even though it may taste like Hawaiian punch, it packs a wallop!