Parmesan

It’s no secret that people eat leftover pasta, but this is a time-honored way to turn it into something else. It’s so good that you might find yourself cooking extra pasta just so you have an excuse to make this. As with any other frittata, you can add what you like here. It might be a bit of pancetta or bacon, but it can also be a bit of cooked vegetable or something as simple as minced scallion or parsley.

Diced onions mix well with fusilli and penne, so those are the pasta shapes most often used here, but you can use spaghetti if you prefer. Best with Spanish onions (the large yellow ones); add a handful of black olives if you like, too.

This is one of those soups that contain so few ingredients that it’s really best to use good stock as opposed to canned broth. (On the other hand, the broth should not be too strong, or it will overwhelm the delicate, fresh pasta.) If you already have fresh pasta dough prepared for another dish, you can substitute it for the passatelli, but this stuff is worth making for its own sake—and easy.

This improvement on the American Chinese restaurant classic has one thing in common with egg-drop soup: when properly made, the egg looks like delicate flowers. While many versions of this soup are thickened with cornstarch, I think the egg thickens the broth sufficiently. Like the Chicken and Watercress Soup on page 140, this has an Italian relative; see the variation. Any of these soups can be made more substantial by adding some shredded leftover chicken—or diced raw chicken, added while the stock is heating; don’t add the egg until the chicken is just about cooked.

You can make eggplant into fritters, seasoned with almost anything you like, but my taste here runs to Parmesan; the combination is magical. Fritters are usually deep-fried, but it isn’t necessary in this case. Here they are made into flat, pancake like forms and cooked in far less oil. Like most fried foods, these are best hot; but, as with most fritters, they’re acceptable up to a half hour after they’ve been made (and, though I wouldn’t serve them to company this way, they’re pretty good cold).

I recall having a version of this dish in Greece, and I am sure the Greeks brought it to Sicily, and I am sure the Sicilians brought it to America. I have found it at weddings and on the menus of Italian restaurants across America. It is a great dish for a large party and for a buffet table. I like it best hot out of the oven, but it is also good at room temperature. “Eggplant” is a misnomer: the vegetable is neither white nor shaped like an egg. However, the first eggplants to arrive in Europe were a rare oval-shaped white variety, and the name stuck. When buying eggplants, look for even color and firm feel. The eggplant should be heavy relative to its size; when you pick it up at the market, it should be firm and crisp, not spongy, to the touch.

Potato croquettes are not served much in Italy, except around Rome. When I first began working in Italian American restaurants, potato croquettes were always paired with a vegetable as a side dish. I grew fond of the dish, I guess, because it combines two things Americans love: mashed potatoes and fried things.

While the word parmigiana literally means “from Parma,” a town in northern Italy, this dish is clearly Sicilian in origin. Here you have the traditional eggplant-parmigiana recipe that everyone loves. This versatile dish can be made in advance and baked when your guests arrive. It reheats well as a leftover and makes a great sandwich as well. In Italy, sometimes it is not even baked, but assembled with sauce and a generous sprinkling of grated Grana Padano, eliminating the mozzarella, and eaten straightaway. And at Roberto’s, on Arthur Avenue in the Bronx, I found alternating layers of eggplant and zucchini—delicious.

Italians love the chicory family of vegetables, of which escarole is a member. Escarole was one of the abundant leafy green vegetables that they could readily find in the States. Today it has fallen out of favor, but when I opened Buonavia, my first restaurant, in 1971, we were cooking escarole by the bushel. We served it in soups, braised with garlic and oil as a side dish, in salads, and for an appetizer; or we would stuff it, as in the recipe below. In Italy, stuffed greens served with beans would often have been the whole meal, not just a side.

What makes this dish truly good is the old bread soaked in milk. Not only is it flavorful and mellow, but the traditions are steeped in preserving and respecting food: waste not, want not. It makes for a great vegetarian main course. With some old bread and whatever was growing in the garden, the Italian immigrants could make a delicious meal.

Italians will stuff anything, but when it comes to a nice summer tomato, this is the recipe. It is good just out of the oven, and delicious at room temperature. Wonderful as an appetizer, a vegetable, and also a main course, this dish is popular at Italian family gatherings and festivities, and it looks great on the buffet table.

You might be used to breaded and fried zucchini cut in French-fry fashion, but when my mother fried zucchini, she would always cut them in rounds or slices. I liked them that way: they made great sandwich stuffers, especially when the flavors and moistness of the zucchini seeped into the bread. For over-the-top flavor, add a few slices of Swiss cheese and melt under the broiler or in a sandwich press. The perfect Italian lunch.

Breaded shrimp is universal, but shrimp parmigiana is distinctly Italian American. I first encountered this dish when we opened Buonavia, our first restaurant, in 1971, and Chef Dino put it on the menu. Shrimp parmigiana was a regular weekly special; people loved it, and it is still a delicious dish today.

Italians love their artichokes in a thousand ways, and stuffed with seasoned bread crumbs is a favorite. This recipe is an Italian American rendition, much richer and with more stuffing and ingredients than the one found in Italy. It was often an appetizer on the menu of Italian American restaurants in the 1950s, ’60s, and ’70s, and most likely the first way that many Americans tasted artichokes Italian-style. And I am sure the charm of it was the discovery of how to eat this curious thistle with not much pulp but lots of flavor.

At our home, when we were newly arrived immigrants, for Sunday dinner it was either gnocchi or garganelli with sugo. The sugo, a rich sauce, was made of either chicken or cubed veal or pork—all second cuts of meat—which created a first-class sauce. The sugo does take two to three hours to make, so, if you have no time for the sugo and have a good piece of Gorgonzola, try this sauce. It will take no more than ten minutes once you have the gnocchi done.

There are endless renditions of lasagna: with just cheese, with vegetables, with mushrooms, with meat. Once you have mastered the art of cooking and layering the pasta, the filling can be your choice. But here I give you the Italian American rendition, one that you make with store-bought dry pasta. The major effort here is in making the Bolognese sauce, and in the Bolognese recipe I give you on page 158, you can make the sauce in advance and freeze it, all ready for when you decide to make a lasagna.