Sometimes cooking is precision, measuring set amounts or cooking at exact temperatures.  Cooking is also a mercurial art.  It's the jazz of dinner made without a recipe's restrictions.  It's the alchemy of mingling what's left in your pantry. This dinner was  born from want -- basically, I had no desire to walk to the food store.

Looking around the kitchen, I eyed a bunch of parsley and a few cloves of garlic.  Rummaging through the pantry, I came across a bag of breadcrumbs, a tin of anchovies and some spaghetti.  I decided to do a greener take on aglio, olio e peperoncino.  A satisfying mix of browned garlic, spicy peperoncino and tons of clean-tasting parsley dresses the pasta.  The anchovy adds a savory -- but not fishy -- under note.

In a small bowl, mix the breadcrumbs with the remaining 1 tbs. of oil oil.  Stir with a fork to ensure that the oil is evenly coating the crumbs.  Heat a different skillet over medium-low heat.  Add the breadcrumbs and toast for 2 minutes.  They should sizzle and turn a golden-brown.

Remove the pasta from the boiling water with a pasta spoon.  Put it straight into the pan with the garlic-anchovy-oil mix.  Toss the pasta, making sure that the flavored oil coats all of it.  At this point, add the rough-chopped parsley and the breadcrumbs.  Toss once or twice more to evenly distribute all of the ingredients.  Serve immediately.

Photo credit

Italian food is a normally a slow cuisine. Hand-shaped pastas. Stove-top braises. Day-long sauces.  But, when I was studying in Florence, my friend Antonio introduced me to one of Italy's easier recipes: aglio, olio e peperoncino. Garlic (aglio) and chili (peperoncino) get sauteed until fragrant in olive oil (olio).  This trinity is then tossed with a heap of hot spaghetti.

Purists will make this sauce with just those three ingredients. To jazz it up, you can also dress the oil-slicked spaghetti with a handful of chopped parsley or pan toasted breadcrumbs.  This is flavorful food for the kitchen clueless.



Bring a large pot of salted water to boil.  Pour in the spaghetti once the water boils,  cooking for 9-10 minutes until al dente.  Meanwhile, roughly chop the peeled garlic and peperoncini.  While the pasta is cooking, heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium.  After 2 minutes of heating, add garlic to the oil. Stir frequently, sizzling the garlic until it starts to brown.  This will take around 2 minutes.

Mix in the peperoncini or red pepper flakes into the oil.  Cook the garlic and chili for another 30 seconds -- no stirring.  Before straining the pasta, pour 1 ladle-ful of starchy pasta water into the garlic-chili-oil slurry.  Turn the heat to medium-high and bring this liquid to a boil. When it begins to bubble, lower the heat to a simmer. Cook the liquid for 5 minutes, allowing the browned garlic and chili to hydrate and soften in the water.  Remove the liquid from the heat after 5 minutes

Strain the spaghetti and then pour it into the skillet with the garlicky water.  Toss the pasta and the liquid, coating all of the spaghetti.  If you'd like, you can add the chopped parsley or grated cheese at this point.  Be sure to re-toss the pasta if you add herbs or parmigiano. Let the pasta sit at room temperature for 3-5 minutes; this will give the pasta time absorb some of the flavored liquid. (If you'd prefer to add a bit of crunch, dress each bowl of pasta with a tablespoon or two of toasted breadcrumbs; you can read about making pant-toasted breadcrumbs here).

Germans nosh on Leberwurst, a sausage of spiced offal.  French cooking is famous for liver terrines.  In Italy, though, there is no native term for kindred dishes.  Italians use the French word 'pâté' to designate spreadable mixes of meats or vegetables.  But, in Tuscany, locals pride themselves on a liver-based appetizer that scarcely looks like its North European cousins. Crostini ai fegatini consists of charred bread topped in a spread of chicken livers, capers and aged balsamic. Unlike most pâtés, it is served hot.

Photo credit

In blending the meat with syrupy balsamic and caramelized onions, Tuscan chefs manage to subdue the organ's metallic tang.  When you eat the crostini, you taste herbs and balsamic alongside liver's ferrous flavor.  Before serving, the liver is sauteed on the stove in a reduction of red wine and sweet vinegar.  The liquids work to leach the "liver-y" taste from the spread. This is pâté for the liver-phobic. 

Photo credit

Photo credit

Broccoli, like its cauliflower cousin, has a certain fame -- that of being gross.  It's not that broccoli is, by nature, icky.  It's just that generations of American only know what happens when you over-boil it -- gobs of bland broccoli.  When roasted or pan-seared, broccoli can caramelize.  Instead of squishy sludge, you develop a pan-crisped bite.  Even kids will happily nosh on this.

In Italy's heel, broccoli adorns the region's orecchiette pasta.  Literally meaning "little ears," this semolina pasta offers a chewy vessel for sauces or vegetables.  This recipe flash-boils the broccoli and then sautes it in a slurry of garlic, olive oil and anchovies.  Once blanched, the broccoli loses its characteristic bitterness and sops up the oil's savory flavor.  Breadcrumbs add a final crunch.

Photo credit: Cravatta ai fornelli

• 1 head of broccoli, florets cut in 1/2-inch to 1 inch pieces
• 2 tablespoons of fresh breadcrumbs or panko
• 2 cloves of garlic, chopped
• 2 anchovy filets, chopped
• 3-4 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
• 1 cup of dried pasta, preferably orecchiette 
• 1/2 of a lemon, juiced

Photo credit: Bon Appetit magazine

Trim the broccoli. First, cut the florets from the main stem. You should have one main stalk and 4-5 clusters of florets. Then, cut the florets again in half.  Repeat this step if necessary — until your the florets around the same size or 1/2-inch or 1-inch in width.  Now, cut off the bottom 2 inches of the main broccoli stalk. It is tough and can be thrown out.  With a vegetable peeler, skin the remaining  stalk until you can see the pale green “flesh” underneath. Chop the tender stalk into 1-inch sticks.

Photo credit: Bon Appetit magazine

Bring the pasta water to a rolling boil.  Add the orecchiette, cooking accordin to the package. 5 minutes before the pasta is done, add the broccoli florets to the boiling pasta water.  Do not add the 1-inch sticks of the stalk.  While the florets and pasta are cooking, heat the olive oil in a sauté pan over medium.  Add the garlic and anchovies, stirring until the garlic has become aromatic and the anchovies have started to break down (1 minute).  If you like, you can add 1/2 teaspoon of red pepper flakes at this point.

Photo credit: Semplice veloce

Add the sticks of broccoli stalk to the anchovy/oil mixture.  Sear them over medium-high heat.  Pay attention to the pan, lowering the heat if it starts to smoke or the garlic starts to brown. When searing, it’s best not to disturb the vegetables. No stirring. No flipping. Leave the broccoli stalks in the hot pan, untouched, for 2 minutes. They’re done when the bottom has turned golden.

Remove the broccoli florets from the boiling water and transfer to the pan with the oil and seared stalks.  Reduce the heat to medium.  Drain the pasta, reserving 1 cup of the starchy pasta water.  Add 1 ladle of the pasta water (or 1/2 cup of white wine) to the pan of broccoli.  Simmer — covered — for 4 minutes.



While the broccoli mixture is simmering, toast the breadcrumbs.  To toast them, add 1 tablespoon of olive oil to another saute pan. Heat the oil over medium and then mix in the breadcrumbs, stirring until crisped and golden-brown.  Remove crumbs from the flame when toasted.

Pour the cooked orecchiette directly into the pan with the simmered broccoli, cooking for a final 2 minutes over medium-high.  Before serving, dress the pasta with the toasted breadcrumbs and a spritz of lemon juice.  Plate immediately.

I used to not think much of beans. They were mushy. They were bland. When I moved to Florence, though, I found myself in a place that praised the humble bean.  Fagioli, I quickly learned, could be full-flavored.  Florentines eat their beloved beans as a stand-alone dish -- adorned with a glug of olive oil and laced with herbs. One Tuscan recipe, fagioli all'uccelletto, confits cannellini beans in a savory tomatoes, fruity olive oil and sage


 Although the ingredients are simple, simmering over a low flame produces beans imbued with sage's earthy aroma.  Beans' starchiness thickens the tomatoes into a creamy sauce--ideal for sopping  up with a hunk of bread.  Satisfying on their own, these beans are also sturdy enough to be spooned atop braised or grilled meats.

• 2 cups of cooked canellini beans, drained
• 1/4 - 1/3 cup of extra virgin olive oil
• 2 cloves garlic, rough chopped
  
• 6-8 leaves of fresh sage, whole
• 1 small can of crushed tomatoes, 14.5 oz
• 1/4 cup of water
• Salt and pepper to taste 

Cooks in Italy's South fry zucchine and then flash-pickle them.  While the ratio of ingredients will vary house to house, the zucchine are normally marinated in a bath of vinegar, garlic and fresh mint.  The zing of vinegar, the heat of garlic, and the coolness of mint transform this simple squash.


Zucchine alla scapece is a traditional side in Naples. Both the oil and the vinegar come from nearby producers, highlighting the flavors of local vino and regional olives.  Ruled for centuries by the Spanish, Naple's food is also inflected with an Iberian accent.  The name of this dish, in fact, comes from the Spanish "escabeche" -- meaning cured in vinegar.

      
    Traditional Caponata -- a sweet-and-sour marriage of eggplant, celery, and capers -- is an oily affair.  This Sicilian antipasto is made by sauteing vegetables, olives and pine nuts in a bath of sizzling oil.  While frying helps to caramelize the eggplant, the final dish can be a bit... heavy.  To combat its unctuousness, I've begun baking mine. Roasting at high heat gives the veggies time to caramelize -- all with a fraction of the oil used in the classic recipe.    

Whether smeared on toast or eaten on its own, caponata offers a mix of tangy vinegar and oven-sweetened vegetables.  Sicilian recipes call for sauteing the cubed eggplant, diced celery and chopped onions separately -- to ensure that each ingredient morphs from raw to tender.  But, the same taste can be achieved by braising the melange, slowly, in a hot oven.

 Chop. Toss. Braise. Serve. 




Preheat the oven to 400F.  Dice and chop the assorted vegetables.  Place the vegetable mixture in 1 large roasting pan or 2 medium casserole pans.  Add the capers, minced garlic and olive oil.  Toss to coat all of the vegetables with the oil.  Once coated, pour in the canned tomatoes and toss once more.



Add in the salt, sugar and vinegar.  Toss the mixture to distribute the sweet-and-sour seasonings. Braise uncovered for 90 minutes in the oven.  After 40-45 minutes, stir vegetables with a wooden spoon -- this ensures that nothing will stick to the bottom of the pan.  By the end, the liquid will condense and the vegetables will turn pliant and sweet.

Feel free to leave any tasting additions / modifications in the comment section.
 

Desserts can intimidate.  Cakes take hours to bake and frost. Souffles are prone to collapse. Pies can easily burn past edibility. But, when guests come for dinner, you also don't want to serve store-bought cookies.  My solution: desserts that taste like you spent hours in the kitchen. You don't need to be a pastry chef to elicit "oohs" and "ahhs" from your guests at dessert time.


This crema will sate demanding palates and save you hours of prep time.  It's similar to the filling of cannoli: sweetened ricotta cheese with a touch of citrus or pistachio. Ricotta has a neutral, milky flavor. So, worry not, your dessert will not taste cheesy.  Whole-milk ricotta gives the dish a custard-like texture -- all without the addition of eggs or cream.

The recipe has three easy-to-execute steps: 1) put the ricotta in a bowl, 2) sweeten with confectioners' sugar, and 3) serve.  That's it.  Typically, I will also add the zest of one orange or one lemon. Citrus brightens the dessert's sweetness.  If you have limoncello or Cointreau on hand, you can mix 1-2 tablespoons of the liqueur in as well.

 

** Be sure to buy whole-milk ricotta.  Non-fat ricotta is fine for savory dishes, like lasagna, but it has no flavor on its own. Whole-milk ricotta, on the other hand, has a creamy and almost butter-like taste. Personally, I am a fan of Calabro's whole-milk ricotta. 



Spoon the chilled ricotta into a large mixing bowl. Grate the zest of 1 orange or 1 lemon into the bowl.  Fold the zest into the ricotta, stirring to make sure it distributes evenly.  Add 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract and stir with your spoon.  At this point, add 1/2 cup of confectioner's sugar.  Taste it.  If it is not sweet enough, add another 1/4 cup of sugar.  If you like the sweetness, leave it as is.

Fold the sugar into the mixture until you have a smooth and wet cream. Let it sit on the counter for 5 minutes -- this will give the powdered sugar time melt into the ricotta.  Chill in the fridge until you are ready to serve. 

Before serving, I like to scoop the crema into individual "fancy" cups.  Doing so gives an restaurant-quality feel to a humble treat.  The last time I served this dish, I plated the cream in copper cocktail mugs.  If you like, you can sprinkle 1/2 teaspoon of chopped pistachios on top of each cup. A drizzle of honey is also tasty.