It is neither a purply, sugared mass nor cold and puckery pap, the true caponata, but a baronial dish first fashioned by the great monzù—dialect for monsieur—the title given to the French chefs imported by the nobility during the reign of the Bourbons. Borrowing from a dish left by the Arabs and tinkered with by the Spanish, the monzù exalted the simple braise of eggplant and tomatoes, building a set piece of it, spicing its sauce with oranges and cloves and even a whisper of cacao, then bejeweling it with roasted lobsters and prawns. I thought it, alas, only an historical dish. But with some supplication of a Palermitano friend, ricette antiche—ancient recipes—were unriddled and, after days of bombast and wrangling discourse, one cook was fixed upon who might still build The True Caponata. Two evenings later, I was indulged. The dish is a beauty even if one wishes not to garnish it with the roasted seafood. Then, one calls it la caponatina. Stuffed inside the belly of a whole fish—a sea bass, a salmon, a cod—and wood-roasted, it is splendid.
Turn humble onions into this thrifty yet luxe pasta dinner.
Caramelized onions, melty Gruyère, and a deeply savory broth deliver the kind of comfort that doesn’t need improving.
This is the type of soup that, at first glance, might seem a little…unexciting. But you’re underestimating the power of mushrooms, which do the heavy lifting.
This flexible recipe is all you need to bring this iconic Provençal seafood stew to your table.
This classic 15-minute sauce is your secret weapon for homemade mac and cheese, chowder, lasagna, and more.
An extra-silky filling (no water bath needed!) and a smooth sour cream topping make this the ultimate cheesecake.
The silky French vanilla sauce that goes with everything.
Round out these autumn greens with tart pomegranate seeds, crunchy pepitas, and a shower of Parmesan.