Italian

This is a great sauce for poached or grilled fish or poultry. It is customary in Italy to serve a poached or boiled meat with two or more sauces. Salsa Verde (page 362) and this sauce make a delightful pair. And it’s a snap to make right out of the pantry. It’s got a brilliant color and surprisingly complex flavor for such a simple preparation: sweet, mildly acidic, and piquant—or as hot as you want, if you add more peperoncino or Tabasco. Fresh eggplant, poached with the onions, gives the sauce even more depth (see box that follows).

Poached veal tongue is one of the ingredients in the classical Italian dish bollito misto, boiled mixed meats. It is one of my favorite dishes, but even without the other four or five meats I enjoy the poached tongue. The brining somewhat cures the meat and makes it retain the lively pinkish color throughout.

Pork shoulders (also called butts or Boston butts) are terrific roasts, in my opinion, more delicious than pork loin and definitely less expensive. With a nice layer of fat on top, a good proportion of fat through the muscle, and lots of connective tissue, the roasted meat has wonderful flavor and soft, moist texture. It’s easy to roast—you don’t need to erect a foil tent for it—and the shoulder-blade bone, which adds flavor and speeds roasting, is simple to remove when you’re serving the meat. (It is also easy to braise, as you will find in the following recipe for Salsa Genovese). Shoulder roasts range from 4 to 8 pounds, bone-in, or larger. This procedure will work for any-size roast, though the vegetable and seasoning amounts are for a 5-to-7-pound shoulder, the size you’ll usually find in the butcher’s case. To feed a big crowd, ask the butcher to cut a larger shoulder for you, or cook two smaller roasts in one very big roasting pan. Be sure to increase the vegetables, seasonings, and cooking liquids proportionally with your meat. Some of the other choices you have with this easy roast: should you mash all the roasting-pan vegetables into the sauce—the simplest method—or cut and caramelize them to serve as a side dish? Or a bit of each? (See page 344 for more information.) It’s up to you. Do you want to glaze the roast? I’ve got a good maple syrup glaze to share—see recipe that follows.

The turkey is a North American native that was taken to Europe, food historians tell us, by the early Spanish explorers. In Italy, it became a culinary favorite of the aristocracy quite quickly: I’ve been delighted to learn that sixty-six turkeys were served at a feast for Catherine de’ Medici in 1549. In my family, however, turkey was not a big deal until we came to North America, 400 years later. Like most of our neighbors in the 1950s, we mainly cooked and ate turkey as the centerpiece of Thanksgiving and other holiday feasts. But over the years, it has become a significant part of our everyday eating. As you’ve seen, turkey wings flavor our basic broth, and turkey breast cutlets are a family favorite. A whole roast turkey is still something special on our table. And after years of Thanksgiving and Christmas feasts and birthday dinners, I have perfected the two-stage, wet-then-dry turkey-roasting procedure that I present here. It’s unusual but it works. In fact, I roast all kinds of meats and poultry this way (as I explain below) to produce marvelously moist and flavorful meat with a crispy, caramelized exterior—and a rich pan sauce at the same time. For the autumn and winter holidays, I serve the turkey with seasonal trimmings—Quince, Cranberry, and Apple Sauce (page 367), Cotognata—Quince Chutney (page 368), and Gnoccho Grande for a stuffing. And I glaze the bird with balsamic-vinegar reduction for a deep mahogany sheen. Roast turkey is so good, though, and so economical, I hope you’ll cook it often, not just for Thanksgiving. For everyday dinners, follow the basic procedure for cooking a chicken or a small turkey (see below). You don’t have to give it the holiday touches every time: the bird will be beautiful without the glaze and delicious with just its natural pan sauce.

I know that “boiled” anything is not a popular concept these days (one reason I call this “poached”), but don’t disdain or neglect this elemental dish. It is still one of the easiest and most satisfying one-pot meals we can give our families. It’s also faster to make than ever: the big birds I buy—plump, meaty, and best when organically raised—are thoroughly cooked, tender, and moist after barely 45 minutes in the broth. When you really want to make it festive, substitute a capon for the chicken. And with markets that offer an unprecedented array of produce and herbs in all seasons, we can surround the chicken with a greater variety of vegetables than our great-great-grandmothers ever had at one time. In this recipe, I’ve loaded the pot with seven hearty and aromatic vegetables (almost 5 pounds’ worth), but you can certainly choose others or vary the amounts. Just cut enough vegetables overall to give everyone a bountiful serving, drizzling the meat and vegetables with some extra-virgin olive oil and a few grains of sea salt to make it complete. But I also hope you’ll top each portion, as I do, with a dollop of salsa verde, a traditional condiment for boiled foods. The bright, acidic flavor and fresh, uncooked texture of the finely chopped salsa are a perfect counterpoint to the poached meat and vegetables—it makes a meal of boiled chicken exciting as well as comforting.

Duck has in most cases been something you eat in a restaurant. I love duck, and I love serving it at home to family and guests. I hope that this two-step method of cooking cut-up duck pieces in a big skillet or casserole will make you comfortable with cooking duck at home. First you fry the duck by itself for about an hour, slowly; the skillet takes all the fat out of the bird and melts it into a frying medium which leaves the skin golden and crispy and the meat moist, flavorful, and, amazingly, not at all greasy. In the second stage, you build a small sauce and infuse the duck with its savor. I prefer cooking just the duck legs here, as I do for the guazzetto on page 154, as they require minimal trimming and the meat stays moist through the long cooking. If your supermarket doesn’t have duck legs, ask if they can order them; call a few specialty butchers or even a local restaurant provisioner if necessary. Duck legs are worth looking for, because they’re not only convenient and delicious but often less expensive than whole duck. If a whole duck is all you can get, though, it will work fine in this recipe. See below for a simple cutting-up procedure.

Most of the time when you buy a whole chicken, the packet of neck, gizzards, and chicken liver tucked in the cavity will leave you wondering what to do with them. Well, these are some of the best-tasting parts. So, packet by packet, collect and freeze the necks and gizzards for a good chicken soup, and the livers for this quick and delicious dish. Quickly sautéed chicken livers and slowly caramelized onions are such natural complements in taste and texture that they’re always a welcome supper dish in our house. The kids are a bit finicky about this dish, but I prepare it when Grandma, Giovanni, and I are at home. There’s nothing fancy about my version—though I do embellish the onions with a sweet-and-sour finish of vinegar and golden raisins. Chicken livers need a bit of attention—thorough trimming and rinsing, and fast cooking in a small amount of oil—and they’ll be crispy on the outside and tender on the inside.

I make a platter of these crumb-coated baked morsels for the kids when they come over because I know they will enjoy them and be nourished. But I notice most of the adults take a piece too. The cutlets have the crunchy appeal of fast-food-style fried “nuggets” and “fingers,” but they are better in every way. (You may notice that the coating is the same blend of grated Parmigiano-Reggiano and bread crumbs that is so good on broccoli-and-cauliflower and string-bean gratinati, in chapter 4, pages 243 and 245.) Turkey has great flavor and texture, but chicken-breast pieces are also good prepared this way. I usually buy turkey-breast cutlets (organic or naturally raised) and slice them up; packaged turkey tenders (the meaty flap inside the breast) are even more convenient— cut them in half, or pound them flat and use the whole tender. The crispy tenders are great served with a green salad. Instead of the usual ketchup condiment, try some Summer Tomato Sauce (page 256), or the Quince, Cranberry, and Apple Sauce on page 367. They are wonderful served as a main course with Skillet Brussels Sprouts (page 271) or Skillet String Beans with Gorgonzola (page 247).