Marsala

This dish stars chicken that is seared, then cooked in an herbed tomato and wine sauce to keep it moist and tender. Serve on a bed of spinach pasta and add a tossed salad for a tempting and nutritious meal.

Perhaps the most elegant version of Sicilian tuna for us was this one that we ate in the kitchen of a tiny, chalk-white house set in the curve of an alley and whose arch-walled garden looked to the sea. The lady who cooked it for us—the owner of the house—was born there in that most ancient parish of Trapani more than ninety years ago. Warm, insistent winds—the breath of Africa, one thinks—billowed up the old blue curtain that was her back door, bidding in the damp, balmy spice of her wisteria as she sat there, beatific, talking and working. It was as though pressing peppercorns into the flesh of a fish was a most magnificent task.

The last time I was in Chi-Town, I got the history of my favorite Chicago dish. It seems that the Italian immigrants who grew up in the shadow of Mount Vesuvio and then came to settle in Chicago developed this chicken and potato dish to celebrate the abundance of meat available in their new country, as well as their Neapolitan roots. We’ve given it a Dinosaur twist to get Vesuvio really smokin’.

This is the quintessential Italian American dish: from the 1950s through the 1980s, every Italian restaurant had it on the menu. It is still one of America’s favorite dishes and is easy to make. The important part of the recipe is to begin cooking the meat and mushrooms separately, then combine them at the end so the flavors blend. Marsala is the special ingredient in this dish. Around the city of Marsala, Malvasia, a varietal of a very aromatic grape, grew in abundance. Wine has been made from this varietal for centuries, and the English took note of it and began importing it. The history of England and the New World needs no retelling, and this is most likely how Marsala made it across the pond. When the Sicilian immigrants settled in America, and rediscovered it, it was a natural reunion.

This is a great vegetarian sauce, very complex and satisfying. It’s excellent for pasta, baked in a lasagna or polenta pasticciata, cooked into risotto or as a condiment for grilled steak or fish. The mushrooms you can buy at the supermarket will make a fine sauce; if you have fresh wild mushrooms it will be even better. In either case, dried porcini provide a key element in this sauce (and many others). On using dried porcini, see box on facing page.

We have all seen countless dishes called al Marsala on the menus of Italian-American restaurants. Too often, I have found, they disappoint me. The pork scaloppine I enjoyed at the Ferdinando brothers’ trattoria reminded me that this simple preparation depends so much on the quality of the wine that is splashed into the skillet. And I was not surprised to learn that the superb sauce coating the meat was made with a carefully chosen Marsala, dry and aromatic. After all, the town of Marsala lies just a few hours west of Palermo, and from that western tip of the island comes all authentic Marsala, in a wide range of vintages, colors, and degrees of sweetness. The finest Marsalas, aged a minimum of 10 years, are ranked with the great fortified wines of the world—sipping one of these is a pleasure you shouldn’t miss. But for good cooking, I recommend a moderately priced Superiore (aged 2 years) or Superiore Riserva (aged 4 years). I always prefer dry (secco) Marsala, even for desserts like Espresso Zabaglione (page 156); for these scaloppine, secco is a must.

This dish requires a little effort ahead of time but finishes quick and easy, making it perfect for a casual weeknight dinner. It’s an adaptation of saltimbocca (Italian for “jump in your mouth”), traditionally made with thin slices of veal sautéed with prosciutto and sage. Since veal can be a little harder to find, and pricier, I use a less expensive cut of meat and splurge on an embellishment: a genuine Fontina Val d’Aosta, from the Piedmont region in Italy. This combination will literally jump in your mouth! I recommend serving it with tender asparagus.

Pheasant and celery get on rather well. I sometimes put thick ribs in with the aromatics for a pot-roast bird, and have included shredded celery in a salad of cold pheasant with Little Gem lettuce and walnuts. Celery root seems to be one of the most successful mashes to serve with the mildly gamey flesh of this bird (parsnip is good, too).

As cuts of meat go, the turkey breast steak is a relatively new one and will please those who like their protein neat, mild, and fat free. This addition to the meat counter has its advantages for a quick supper. It can be sizzled in butter with a few aromatics (bay, black pepper, thyme sprigs, and a curl of orange rind tend to cheer it up). Turkey still reeks of Christmas, but the white meat less so than the legs, which always smell like a roasting Christmas lunch. Red cabbage makes a satisfactory accompaniment. Go further, with a few prunes and a bottle of Marsala, and you have something approaching a joyful Sunday lunch, though without a bone to pick.

True zabaglione—a foamy custard of egg yolks, wine, and sugar—is often made to order in Italian restaurants. Moments after the waiter takes your order, you’ll hear the frenetic “clang-clack-clang” of the whisk hitting the copper bowl in the kitchen. Once it’s reached a billowy peak, it’s heaped into a glass quickly but not necessarily neatly (speed trumps presentation with zabaglione) and served straight up and warm. In season, you’ll often find sliced strawberries buried underneath all that delicious froth. Zabaglione Gelato captures the taste of a true zabaglione in a cool scoop of ice cream without the last-minute flurry of activity, and it’s just as good served with lots of juicy strawberries.

American cheesecake is to Italian cheesecake what slouching around the house in a sweatshirt and jeans is to stepping out on the town in a tailored Armani suit. When I stopped comparing Italian cheesecake to its comfy American cousin, I was finally won over. Made with ricotta cheese instead of pounds of cream cheese and sour cream, it’s lighter and leaner, and perfectly accompanied by fresh fruit compotes or colorful sauces. For best results, use whole-milk ricotta cheese. Or even better, seek out fresh ricotta from a local producer. And be sure to watch it carefully during baking, taking it out when it is just barely set.

This hearty curry becomes the centerpiece of a satisfying meal served over hot cooked grains, and accompanied by Chapatis (page 158) and a simple, palate-cooling salad of cucumbers and tomatoes.

A vegetarian dish brimming with Indian flavors, this recipe reminds me of a meal I ate in a London restaurant after enjoying a rip-roaring rock musical in Soho. I hope you have as much fun eating this one as I did that night! For an even healthier meal, use parboiled and precooked brown rice (labeled “instant”) with the same amount of liquid.

This Glorious One-Pot Meal is a take on a traditional Indian dish. Consider changing it up with chicken, sweet potatoes, and broccoli in place of chickpeas, white potato, and cauliflower. Turmeric has anti-inflammatory properties and may be helpful for people suffering from internal swelling of joints or nerves, as with fibromyalgia, arthritis, and multiple sclerosis.

The Marsala and fennel seeds give this recipe the familiar flavor of the classic dish, while the red pepper flakes add a bit of a kick. If you are a fennel fan, double the amount given here. You can grind fennel seeds in a mortar or purchase the spice already ground. Feel free to use any type of fresh or dried mushrooms. Cut dried mushrooms into thin pieces to be certain they will hydrate enough. To presoften particularly thick dried mushrooms, soak them in boiling water for 15 minutes before draining, chopping, and adding to the pot.

I adore sweetbreads, but, alas, they are becoming increasingly hard to get. So, whenever I see a package of them in the supermarket, I snatch them up and give myself a treat. I’m apt to vary the aromatics, but basically the technique is the same. If you do all the preparation in the morning, or even the night before, the final sautéing with just the right complementary flavors takes about 15 minutes. And when you have your first bite, there is something so deeply satisfying about the tender creamy texture of sweetbreads, and their ability to absorb and transform the aromatic flavors you give them, that you feel a small miracle has taken place. No wonder they are called sweetbreads.