Wine

Castagne al vino are a delightful reminder from Maremma that the simple pleasures of rustic life are truly irreplaceable. Roast some chestnuts, and while they are still hot, wrap them in a wine-soaked cloth . . . wait a few minutes . . . then peel and enjoy them with a glass of wine. The question is: red or white wine? The maremmani enjoy, as I do, red wine, a good Morellino. But white wine is also delicious.

Antico peposo, a very old recipe for cubed beef, is cooked with lots of pepper and no other condiment—not even a drop of oil or any other fat—and it becomes a delightfully savory and peppery dish. The dish probably dates back to medieval times, when there was no refrigeration and meat was preserved with salt or lots of pepper and herbs. Once the meat was embedded with the pepper, it was cooked just as it was. Or with a little wine and garlic. My peposo uses only a fraction of the amount of black peppercorns that are in traditional recipes, but it will still please even the most fanatic pepper-lover: this is peppery! To balance the spiciness of the meat and mop up the sauce, you need some starch. I like to serve the peposo with one of the following: polenta, boiled or mashed potatoes, gnocchi, or just beans cooked with olive oil.

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.

GINA These sparkling beauties (you know I love sparkles) add a festive color to your party table. Note that it may be easier to find blood-orange juice in a carton or bottle, but if you’re lucky enough to find fresh blood oranges, you’ll need about eight oranges to make 2 cups juice.

GINA Peaches are one of my favorite fruits, and cream always complements them. This dessert is refreshing and light: you don’t want to get your man too full, or else you will be watching him sleep. The sweet champagne and fresh vanilla will relax his senses just enough.

I had my first taste of St-Germain liqueur while sipping a “Flower Sour” at the Essex House hotel in Manhattan. The drink was something of a revelation: it smelled floral but tasted like a complex combination of peach, grapefruit, and lychee. I later discovered that St-Germain liqueur was made from wild Alpine elderflowers! From what I understand, it’s a long and tedious process to make it, and I think that’s perfect, because ladies are a “special process” all their own. Most of my girls are vodka girls, so I try to make something with vodka, but my recipe has a special twist to it. A wild and complicated drink? That sounds just about right for us, ladies!

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!

PAT I’m so happy Gina, the cocktail queen, is willing to make this refreshing, full-of-fruit champagne cocktail on Mother’s Day. (The recipe is so good that we make it many times throughout the year in the Neely household.) She starts off with a bottle of champagne, then adds a dash of Cointreau and a splash of slightly tart cranberry juice. She then tops the whole thing off with a raspberry garnish, just to give it a beautiful look.

The peach nectar, lemonade, and sparkling wine—ooh, it just makes me tingle all over! And believe me, this is a night when you are going to need all the tingling you can get.

This is an Italian classic, with a twist. Traditionally made with Marsala, I like to vary it by using Viognier, or even prosecco, as we do here. The wine adds a dimension to the custard and marries well with the sweet berries. If you don’t have a kitchen torch, skip the step where you sprinkle on the sugar and simply serve the custard spooned over the berries. If you use the broiler instead of a torch, the custard will get too soft.

Although I’ve outed myself as someone who often prefers savory to sweet, even after dinner, I’ve found the perfect compromise that is sure to keep everyone happy. This is one of my favorite summer desserts, for those long, hot nights when you crave something lighter as a finish to your meal. This sorbet is just the ticket; make it when the blueberries are fat and sweet and fresh basil is everywhere you look.

The very essence of summer, this recipe features, really, just one ingredient. It takes multiple steps to transform the melon into this dense, creamy sorbet, but don’t be tempted to take shortcuts. Your reward is in the intense flavor and hue of the finished product. This is one case where you must go to the farmers’ market and seek out the gnarled old guy who lovingly raises organic muskmelons—maybe Crenshaws or Hearts of Gold—and picks them only when you can smell their perfume a mile away as they warm in the sun. Go. He’s there, and he’ll make sure you get a good melon.

Rhubarb is one of those love-hate foods. For me, it’s all about the love. Not only do I like the tartness, a zinging alternative to too-cloying desserts, but it’s pretty, too. Yes, it’s pink and it’s pretty and I’m secure enough to admit it. With the gentle bubbles emanating from the prosecco, this soup is impressive enough to end a fancy spring meal, and it’s easy, to boot.

There are fruit people, and there are chocolate people. Even chocolate people will lick their plates clean when presented with a refreshing, lemony panna cotta strewn with wine-steeped peaches. Panna cotta makes a nice spring and summertime dessert because it’s not so rich that you leave the table feeling stuffed, and the lemon verbena adds a welcome, herbaceous tang. This dish is perfect for company because the panna cotta must be made ahead, and the peaches “cook” while coming to room temperature.

Save this recipe for late February, when spring garlic first appears in markets. For this dish, it’s best to use larger heads, planning on one large or two small heads per serving. Piecing out the squab makes for much easier eating and allows you to cook the different parts perfectly, with the added bonus that the wings and body add incredible depth and flavor to the sauce. If you think your knife skills aren’t up to par, you can ask your butcher to do it for you, but be sure to reserve all the pieces. If your guests are big eaters, you might want to double the recipe to allow for one squab per person and serve as an entrée. Lentils would make a nice side.

After a rugged weekend of deer hunting, this is the dish I celebrate with . . . okay, not really. I buy farmed venison, just as you will. The nice thing, other than not having to don your camo and risk getting ticks, is that farmed venison is less intense than wild deer meat, with a rich, sophisticated flavor that is perfectly accented with a simple agrodolce. Forget about beef tenderloin and serve this instead—I promise the luscious texture and wild essence will win you over. As with tenderloin, though, make sure you serve the venison rare.