Italian

Prickly pears—or fichi d’India, as they are called in Italy—grow wild and abundant in Sicily and are eaten simply as a fruit, as a salad, or churned into a dessert, as in this recipe for granita. In the Southwestern United States, the prickly pear grows abundant and wild, and when I visited the Salinas Valley in California, I was delighted to see acres upon acres of this cactus plant growing for commercial harvesting. The Mexican culture uses it in their cuisine, but I was especially happy to see a demand for it here in the States. When you find it nice and ripe in your market, buy it and make this simple and delicious granita with it.

Spumoni is a delicious dessert made from three flavors of ice cream stuffed into a cup, and cut in four when frozen. The ice-cream colors reflect the colors of the Italian flag—red, white, and green—and spumoni has long been a big item on the menus of Italian American restaurants. Spumoni has its origins in a Neapolitan dessert, and supposedly came to America in 1905 with Salvatore Lezza. Lezza’s spumoni can still be had on Chicago’s Upper West Side. I filled many a cup with my own homemade ice cream in my early restaurant days, in the seventies, but spumoni is still delicious when made with good store-bought ice cream as well. Here rum gives the spumoni an extra layer of flavor, but the juice of the sour cherries is a great alternative.

Chicago is the birthplace of this sandwich, and Al’s “#1 Italian Beef Sandwich” claims to be the best. The last time I was there, there was a line, and the outside tables were full of people munching on the beef sandwich. However, I think the recipe below will give you a sandwich much closer to what the Italian American immigrants were and still are making for their families. The Italian beef sandwich seems to have its roots in Italian weddings and celebrations as a frugal way to offer meat. The boneless beef rump, an otherwise tough piece of beef, when marinated, roasted, and cut into thin slices, and then topped with lots of Italian-style vegetables, went a long way served as a sandwich. This recipe makes enough for a crowd, or you could halve the recipe and feed a smaller group. That will be a problem if you just want a sandwich for yourself, but I think the only true way to get this sandwich to be as good as it can be is to make it from a whole rump roast. You can always enjoy the leftovers later.

I guess you could call this silky chocolate milk, or luscious liquid chocolate pudding. I remember it as a very special treat when I was a child. It is simple and delicious, and, served with some Italian cookies, it becomes dessert.

It seems that the muffuletta sandwich originated in Sicily, set on what most likely was flatbread sprinkled with sesame seeds. And since the Sicilians were the first mass wave of immigration to the port of New Orleans, it would seem that the soft sesame-seed bread of the muffuletta is an American cousin of the bread of the pane ca’ meusa (spleen sandwich) still sold in Palermo markets today. This meatless rendition of the muffuletta was made on All Souls Day; the one with the cold cuts and salad is served on more festive days.

There are many versions of the muffuletta sandwich around New Orleans, but it seems that Central Grocery in the French Quarter is the place to go. The store is charming enough, but at the back counter, seated on a stool with a muffuletta sandwich in front of you, is where you want to be. We sat down across from a man who told us he’d had his first muffuletta sandwich here fifty years ago and came back regularly for more. Next to him were a couple who have been coming to Central Grocery to enjoy the muffuletta sandwich for more than forty years. We ordered one without any hesitation. The large hamburger bun–like bread was soaked significantly with the olive-oil dressing of the olive salad; then layers and layers of the salad and the cold cuts were added. The sandwich was cut in four and wrapped in parchment paper. It was ten in the morning, one would say time for breakfast, but the two of us savored the muffuletta sandwich as did all the other customers.

I am sure just about everyone who has traveled to Italy was offered limoncello at some point or other during the trip. This delightful lemon-flavored drink is a custom born in southern Italy, but now limoncello has crossed into not only all of Italy, but also across the Atlantic and into the United States. You can now make limoncello easily at home—no need to travel—and this recipe also works well with oranges. Limoncello is best served cold. Keep a bottle in the freezer for your guests.

Salumeria Italiana is the place to go in the North End of Boston to buy Italian specialty foods. The store is small but meticulously furnished with some of the best of Italian imported and domestic products. For nearly five decades, the Martignetti family has upheld the time-honored tradition. It was early on a rainy morning when Tanya and I, camera and notepad in hand, paid a visit to the Salumeria. The workers were beginning to set up the products and sandwich of the day, getting ready for lunch. The resident salumiere, a timid elderly gentleman, repeatedly skirted the lens of our camera, but we did get some really good close-ups of the Salumeria panino of the day. No one was willing to share the recipe, either, so here is my rendition of what we saw and tasted; it is simple and simply delicious. Don’t miss out on visiting Paul Revere’s house, almost around the corner!

I had this sandwich in Baltimore, in a small, quaint mom-and-pop shop in Little Italy. Turkey is not too popular in Italy. After all, it was brought back to Europe after the discovery of America, and in Italy chicken and rabbits ruled the roost, along with other courtyard animals. In America, though, the turkey is the celebrated and celebratory animal, the one that fed famished early explorers coming to America. Well, this is a great sandwich to make on the days following Thanksgiving—or anytime, for that matter. The condiment and the greens are the Italian part, and the turkey is the American part—the perfect Italian American civic club sandwich.

When in season, soft-shell crabs are a big seller in all of our restaurants. People just love them. We make a light batter, fry them nice and crisp, and set them over a salad for our guests. During one of my trips to Baltimore, I wanted to go visit Crisfield Seafood in Silver Spring, Maryland, known for its soft-shell crab sandwich. The experience was good: the soft-shell crab, nice and crispy, was the best part; the sesame bun and the coleslaw were the usual suspects. In this recipe I’ve added my own twist to the bread and ingredients. Get a good semolina roll, and top the crabs with an arugula-and-egg salad, an Italian American solution. If you want to serve this as a salad, double the salad and dressing and omit the rolls. Serve crabs on top of the greens, with dressing dolloped on the side.

Known as pasta fazool in the Italian American community, this is the cornerstone of Italian soup-making. This recipe traveled easily from Italy along with the early immigrants. Beans and the other ingredients were easy to find, and the technique they used was just like back home. An inexpensive, nutritious soup, it cooked by itself while the woman of the house did her chores. Some options to vary this soup would be to purée part or all of the beans after they have been cooked, and before you add the pasta. This is the version kids love, and it is also used in restaurants for a seemingly elegant touch, although I like to bite into my beans. I also substitute rice or barley for the pasta, a common practice in the north of Italy, where rice is abundant.

Legumes are a big part of the culinary tradition in Italy, and they found a place in Italian American homes as well. Almost every Italian American I spoke with wanted to share a memory of his or her favorite lentil dish. Legumes, especially lentils, deliver a lot of flavor, plus nutritional and economical value, and everyone could afford them. The immigrants ate them a lot, and they are still a favorite in Italian American kitchens. Pasta and beans, pasta e fagioli—or, as Italian Americans call it, pasta fazool—is a traditional meatless Italian dish, although it usually refers to white beans, such as cannellini or borlotti. Pasta fazool probably came from Neapolitan immigrants, derived from the Neapolitan word for beans, fazul. The recipe below is a soup consisting of lentils and pasta, but you can turn it into a dry pasta dish instead of a soup by adding only 5 to 6 cups of water. Or even make the lentils as a vegetable dish by eliminating the 4 cups of water and omitting the ditalini. The pancetta is added for flavor, but to make the soup vegetarian, omit the pancetta and start with the onion.

This soup has weathered well among the generations of the Italian immigrant families that have cooked it. As I travel through America and look for the flavors and recipes the Italian immigrants brought with them, this recipe is almost always remembered fondly. It is still cooked with nostalgia and reverence, and at holidays, particularly in the homes of immigrants from southern Italy. It is a dish usually served when the whole family is at the table. Even if the “marriage” mostly likely refers to the marriage of the ingredients, the soup is also thought to give strength to a newly married couple for their wedding night.

I love soups, and I love cauliflower, and who doesn’t like pancetta? This is a delicious soup, and, yes, you can serve it as is, or you can add some cooked white or brown rice. Get yourself some crusty bread, a glass of Chianti Classico or Morellino (the other Tuscan red), and enjoy.

I got this recipe from Guido Pezzini, the patriarch at Pezzini Farms in Castroville, California, who claims that just about every dish his mother cooked included artichokes in some form. This soup is one of his favorites. The Pezzinis are a delightful and caring family, with Sean, the grandson, as the next generation in training.

Escarole is in the chicory family, the bitter dark-green vegetables that Italians love. Escarole played such a big role in the cooking of Italian Americans because it seemed to be one of the few chicory vegetables available here in the States. It is a very versatile and inexpensive vegetable as well: easy to grow, resilient to cooler weather, and giving a large yield per head. The outer leaves can be used in soups, braised with garlic and oil, or stuffed; the tender center white leaves are great for salads. This is an Italian recipe, but the ingredients are adapted to include the local ingredient kale, much loved and eaten in the States.

Every region of Italy has its version of minestrone. The Italian American version seems always to have diced carrots, celery, potatoes, beans, and cabbage, rendering it distinct, with a touch of sour aftertaste. Variations include vegetables that were readily available in the small gardens Italian immigrants kept in their backyards or window boxes. Italian Americans love their minestrone so much that in 1949, Progresso Quality Foods began selling minestrone, as well as pasta e fagioli, in cans as a convenience food. At first the soup was available only in Italian American markets, but soon enough it hit mainstream America.

Stracciare means “to rip to shreds” in Italian, and, indeed, that is how this soup looks after you’ve stirred some beaten eggs with some grated cheese into a good chicken broth. Once you have a good chicken broth, the rest is easy. Stracciatella is usually served with shredded spinach and beaten egg, but I recall having it with just egg and cheese when spinach was not in season. In the Italy that I grew up in, seasons made a difference, not only in how we dressed, but in what we ate. This is a great restorative soup, served in most Italian families.

Stale bread has never tasted so good, or been presented with such finesse, as in this dish—a delicious transformation, another fabulous way to use up yesterday’s bread. Shaped into passatelli and combined with a good chicken stock, leftovers are transformed into an Italian classic.

From what I recall, frittata made with sausage, bread, and eggs was a dish my grandmother in Istria often prepared, whereas the addition of peppers was something more Italian American. It is nonetheless a delicious combination. This recipe makes a great lunch with some salad on the side.