Italian

This beautiful brodetto is brimful of colors, tastes, and textures, and extends the flavor of lobster to bowls of polenta or pasta. Lobster and corn cooked together in a brodetto is not traditionally found in Italy. I discovered this combination of flavors when I was traveling through Maine and other parts of the Northeastern coast of the United States, and I liked it so much that I took the liberty to Italianize the duo. The preparation follows the basic steps of all red brodetti: First the floured lobster pieces are fried to seal the flesh and caramelize it. Then they’re put back in the skillet with aromatics, tomato, and seasonings to create the brodetto, and the addition of corn adds sweetness and texture. Most people eat only the tails and the claws of lobsters, but don’t you disregard the heads and tiny legs—they are the sweetest parts. After having enjoyed the polenta and the sought-after parts of the lobster, set yourself up with a wet towel and a clean plate, and begin to nibble and suck on those little legs, biting into them now and then to squeeze out the meat. Then pull the head piece up close and pull the inside part from the shell, lick the shell, and set it down. Slowly begin to pry open the chest chambers, and with an oyster fork pry out morsels of some of the sweetest lobster meat. At our house it is the heads of the lobsters that are rationed, not the tails.

This is one of those almost miracle dishes: it is ready in 10 minutes, it is quite inexpensive, it is full of flavor and texture and very gratifying, and all of my grandchildren love it. The brininess of the sea will come forth with the underlying garlic, lemon, and olive oil, the flavors all tied together by bread crumbs, then captured in the opening shells of this sweet mollusk. But one thing is required of you in order for this miracle to happen. The mussels you buy must be absolutely the freshest; otherwise, turn the page and go to another recipe. To enjoy this dish best, you must serve it piping hot in hot bowls, because the shells cool quickly. Grilled country bread and spoons will help scoop up every last drop. If you have some left over, remove mussel meat from the shells and return it to the sauce to make a great condiment for a plate of pasta the next day.

This brodetto follows essentially the same steps as the preceding skate recipe, flouring and frying to seal and caramelize the fillets, then returning them to the skillet as you create the sauce. But here the sauce is built on a light purée of poached garlic, lemon juice, and white wine, rather than onions, tomato paste, and red wine vinegar. You can take other fish and seafood in this direction. Skate is as delicious in white brodetto as it is in red. Shrimp and scallops—even chicken breast—are excellent done this way as well. An important point to remember, though, with seafood variations: shrimp, scallops, and fillet of skate will be overcooked if they’re in the sauce too long. After the initial browning of these delicate fish, get all the sauce liquids cooking first, then add them to the brodetto for just the last couple of minutes before serving.

Brodo means “soup” in Italian, and brodetti are savory, soupy preparations that usually refer to fish. A brodetto is uncomplicated, quick, and very delicious— a preparation that you can use for many kinds of seafood. For this recipe I’ve chosen skate, an ocean fish that some of you may not be familiar with. It is immensely popular in Europe and one of my lifelong favorites. Fortunately, it is now widely available here, reasonably priced, and, when fresh, as sweet and luscious as lobster. It is particularly well suited for a brodetto, having naturally gelatinous flesh and bones, which enhance the richness and viscosity of the sauce. If you can, buy skate with the center cartilage, which is how I like it; see box on skate, below.

You may be surprised to find recipes with chicken, veal, and pork cutlets in my vegetable chapter. But the inspiration for this distinctive group of dishes is the vegetables that cover and surround the small portions of meat. When zucchini, eggplant, and (especially) tomatoes are at their best in the summer—and when I’ve an abundance of fresh tomato sauce in the refrigerator and freezer—I cook these beautiful one-pot dinners. I call these “skillet gratinati” because a large skillet or sauté pan is an essential part of the cooking. First you sauté your vegetables (in some instances) in the skillet; then you gently brown the meat cutlets in the skillet; then you layer lovely individual servings in the skillet; and then you develop your sauce in the skillet. Finally, you place the whole skillet in a hot oven, where the meat and vegetables cook until tender, the sauce thickens, and the crowning layer of grated cheese turns into a golden, crisp gratinato. (The whole cooking process takes little more than half an hour.) The first stage, on top of the stove, is the most fun, when you create your main dish and sauce in one pan in minutes. Having all your components ready and staying close to the pan will ensure success with this simple dish. The gratinati here are similar in technique but offer different ideas for ingredients. The most detailed instruction is in the main recipe that follows, with briefer descriptions in the equally delicious variations (page 315 and page 317). Once you understand the process, do experiment, using different meats, vegetables, herbs, and sauces—make the skillet-gratinate technique your own.

Using orange brightens and brings sunshine to fall and winter vegetables.

Squash is one of those vegetables that, when in season, are celebrated in Italy. It is used in pasta, stuffings, risottos, and soups. By being roasted, as it is here, the squash, like Cinderella, is transformed. It becomes the centerpiece rather than a side dish.

It may scare some of you, but garlic lovers will be excited about transforming 1 whole cup of raw garlic cloves into 1 cup of creamy garlic sauce. But don’t be intimidated: this simple reduction of garlic in a pan of milk creates a sauce that is surprisingly mild—though unmistakably garlicky. And if the whole-cup idea seems too extreme for you, despite my assurance, by all means make this with just 1/2 cup of cloves. At full or half strength, this is delicious with all sorts of vegetables—use it warm with hot vegetables and cold with crudités.

This way of cooking broccoli opens a whole new world of flavors for one of the most available vegetables. Make a medley in the skillet by cooking cauliflower, zucchini, or other cut-up vegetables at the same time. And even reluctant vegetable eaters (we have a few in my family) find broccoli irresistible with my Creamy Garlic Sauce.

You have certainly played around with fresh basil, particularly with pesto. Here the flavor is more subtle in its cooked form.

Sweet corn and fresh lima beans are natural garden partners and one of my favorite vegetable combinations. I like traditional American succotash (originally a Native American dish, in fact), in which the vegetables are cooked together in water, milk, or cream. But limas and corn are especially delicious when prepared by my covered-skillet method, with olive oil and garlic (and a bit of peperoncino). You must use fresh-cut corn kernels and lima beans right out of the shell for this dish—frozen corn and limas will get mushy and just don’t have the flavor. Cutting corn kernels off the cob is easy. For a fast method, see below. And shucking lima beans is a pleasant task that I enjoy. Though I admit that Gianni, my mother’s boyfriend, is always happy to help me when I’ve got pounds of beans to shell.

Lemon is such an everyday flavoring that we forget how unique it can make a dish.

Brussels sprouts are a love/hate vegetable. Let this recipe surprise you—even the dubious will fall in love with sprouts. But it’s the experience of tasting the vegetable in an unexpected form—all the leaves separated, tossed in the skillet until tender and sweet—that really makes the difference. They are wonderful as is, but the Lemon Sauce that follows provides a tangy counterpoint to the delicately caramelized green-gold leaves.

In ancient times, an elixir was thought to cure anything, make one immortal, or turn metal into gold. And this elixir, a seasoned purée of really ripe raw homegrown tomato, certainly can turn ordinary vegetables into something delectable. I’ve paired it here with caramelized cauliflower, but it will make even a boiled potato an exciting dish. This is a great way to use very ripe homegrown or farm-stand tomatoes that are almost too juicy to cut up—and are often a bargain at the farm stand. If you have a lot of tomatoes, you can easily multiply this formula for larger quantities. Store elixir in the refrigerator for a week and enjoy it as a beverage as well as a vegetable sauce. I’ve been told it makes a great Bloody Mary. But my favorite is a small glass of chilled tomato elixir in the morning. Try it—it will change your day!

I cook cauliflower many ways and my family loves them all (certainly I do). But if some in your family don’t like the distinctive, “sulfur” quality in cooked cauliflower, try this skillet method. It eliminates the sulfur taste and produces a cauliflower floret that’s entirely different from a boiled one—crispy on the edges, and almost coated with a sweet caramelization. It’s delicious by itself but even better with the lively contrast of Garden Tomato Elixir.

In springtime, when farmers’ markets sell really fresh, locally grown asparagus—or if you’re lucky enough to pick spears in your own asparagus bed—cook them by the skillet method. You’ll find it concentrates the natural sweetness and subtle asparagus flavors that are at their peak for only a day or two. Butter and cheese are natural complements to asparagus, and here they both get a final delicious toasting. For details on how I trim asparagus—and a fine cooking method for the year-round spears that have been shipped to supermarkets—see the Scallion and Asparagus Salad recipe (page 35).

This is the pasta “sauce” I make in August, when just-picked tomatoes in all shapes and colors are piled on our kitchen windowsills—and it is too hot to hang around the stove. It’s a fast no-cooking preparation, but it requires ripe and juicy tomatoes, preferably homegrown or heirloom tomatoes from the farmers’ market. Be sure to have them at room temperature. The sauce actually develops in the hour or two when it marinates: salt draws the juices from the tomatoes, and they become infused with the flavors of basil and garlic. Then all you do is toss piping-hot pasta with the tomatoes and enjoy one of the rare treats of the whole year.

Here you prepare the tomatoes and sauté the base of onions and garlic in the exact same way as in the previous recipe, but the final sauce is unique. First you soften the eggplant chunks in the pan before adding the tomatoes. Then you cook the vegetables covered for a long time, so the chunks break down even more. The aim is to soften the eggplant so much that it almost melts into the tomatoes—which explains the traditional name for this sauce, melanzana affogata: literally, “suffocated eggplant.” The eggplant does not disappear, though, either in flavor or texture, I assure you. If you love eggplant as much as I do, you will want to make this sauce—and plenty of it.