Condiment

This simple quince preserve is a specialty in many Italian regions. It seems to have its origins in the fourteenth century, when some of the most noted were from Reggio Emilia and Genova. The translucent, pastel fruit in a jellied syrup is a delightful accompaniment to all sorts of sweet and savory dishes. If you have a large batch of fresh quince, just multiply this recipe and make a big pan of cotognata. It will keep for a month refrigerated. Pack it in little jelly jars and give as a gift: cotognata is a colorful and delicious way to introduce others to the pleasures of quince!

This is a classic cold sauce for boiled meats, poultry, and fish, but I find wonderful new uses for it all the time.

You may have heard me describe the extraordinary qualities of an authentic aceto balsamico tradizionale—how it takes 20 years of careful concentration to develop its intense flavors; how a few drops make a dish taste magical; and how the price of a tiny bottle has caused many unsuspecting tourists to faint! Here, though, is a more reasonable way to bring some of the intensity and complexity of the greatest balsamic vinegar to everyday dishes: reduce a bottle of the affordable commerciale grade of balsamic to a thick syrup. Don’t look for the cheapest “balsamic” on supermarket shelves; look for a vinegar from a reputable company, produced in Italy—and expect to pay $8 to $10 for a pint. I use this condiment on a range of dishes (and in numerous recipes throughout the book), as a thick sauce to drizzle on meats and vegetables and, in a somewhat thinner state, as a glaze on roasts. As you’ll see in the recipe, the vinegar reduces with added honey and bay leaf, but you can give it other flavor notes. I vary these with the dish I intend to dress: for vegetables I add whole cloves; for meat and poultry I add rosemary; for fish I add thyme. The basic formula will provide you with syrup for drizzling on a half-dozen dishes, maybe more. It will keep forever in the refrigerator, but I’m sure you’ll use it up quicker than that!

Sheep’s-milk ricotta served with mostarda di sedano was a discovery and delight at Antichi Sapori. Crunchy small diamonds of glasslike celery pieces cooked with sugar and lemon were served as an accompaniment to fresh sheep’s-milk ricotta rounds—simple but extraordinary. Mostarde have been part of the Italian culinary repertoire for centuries, originally as a way of preserving vegetables and fruits—such as squash, apples, and pears—for the winter months. Cooked in sweet syrup with hot mustard added, mostarde were enjoyed as a crisp and fresh-tasting condiment when there was no fresh produce. The epicenter of the Italian mostarda culture is in and around Modena, but every region has some form of it. I am familiar with all kinds of mostarde, but celery? This I had never seen before. I love celery anyway, and in this preparation I absolutely adore it. I serve this with good ripe cheese as well as with fresh sheep’s-milk ricotta. It is a fine condiment for boiled meats, or grilled or poached poultry. And, suspended in its sweet syrup, it is also delicious on ice cream! It keeps in the refrigerator for months, so make a batch and enjoy it in all these ways.

Caponata is a dense condiment of chunky fried eggplant and other vegetables and seasonings, jam-packed with flavor—sweet, sour, and salty all at once. Sicilians make caponata in many variations and enjoy it in countless ways. Here’s a version I love. Use it as a condiment on grilled meats and steamed fish, as a sauce for pasta, or as topping for bruschetta.

I love chutneys, for both their concentrated flavor and the convenience. You make them and store them, and whenever you want that special treat you can just pull them from the fridge or pantry. All you need is a spoonful to enjoy the essence of whatever ingredients you put into them. Cunja is just such a treasured condiment from Piemonte. Quince is a primary ingredient (as it is in cotognata, another traditional Italian chutney), but cunja incorporates the indigenous flavors of late autumn in Piemonte: the local San Martino pears, the mosto of pressed Nebbiolo grapes, and its famed hazelnuts. Though these particular ingredients will probably not be in your market, my recipe produces a thoroughly delicious and long-lasting chutney with much of the layered complexity of cunja. In place of cotto mosto, the cooking liquid here is bottled Concord-grape juice (always made from concentrate); organic juice is highly recommended. Unfortunately, we can’t get small sweet San Martino pears in the United States. These are the last pears to be harvested, in early November, at the same time as the Feast of San Martino—hence their name. Our Seckel pears are an excellent alternative, and Granny Smith apples will also work well. Packed in jars and refrigerated, this will keep for a couple of months. As I explain, cunja is meant to be enjoyed with a creamy Piedmontese cheese, but I serve it with pork roast and other meats. I am sure you will find many delicious uses for it.

GINA This is not your off-the-shelf variety of cranberry sauce, although that can work in a pinch (remember my emergency run to the store during my first Thanksgiving at Mama Neely’s?). In this recipe I’m talking sweet, zesty, spicy, and savory: you don’t know whether to slow-dance or cut a jig. I say mix it all up, just like the relish, and let it go.

GINA Roasting the shallot gives it a deep, sweet flavor, and the lemon zest lightens the whole thing up. This butter would also be an excellent topping for fish or chicken.

GINA My attraction to mangoes was confirmed on a trip Pat and I took to Mexico. The velvety fruit tastes like an exotic mix of pineapples and peaches, and the flavor just explodes in your mouth. In creating this salsa, I stuck with Mexican tradition and added fresh cilantro, which you can chop or tear apart. Cilantro also offers a health benefit by soothing the digestive system. So, little do the guys know, I’m taking care of their stomachs as well as their appetite! (Ladies, y’all can thank me later.) Mind you, I was a little skeptical about whether they’d go for it, so I deep-fried the tortilla chips, so they’d have something familiar to dip.

This is less a recipe than an idea, but I assure you that it’s an idea that will continue to inspire you. It began with a jar of marinated Sardinian pecorino that I bought and kept at one of the restaurants. Although the price of the cheese made it as precious as gold, I soon found that it enhanced nearly everything it touched, from pastas to carpaccios. (I admit it’s also terrific snitched directly out of the jar.) If kept covered in olive oil, the cheese will keep nearly indefinitely, though it’s so irrisistable that it won’t last that long. Make sure it is allowed to come to room temperature before using. As you use up the cheese, add the olive oil to vinaigrettes, pasta, and more.

Italians don’t use preserved lemons—they’re more of a Moroccan thing. But more lemons come out of Sicily than anywhere else, and the intense, concentrated flavor of preserved lemon peel is perfect in dishes such as Grilled Mackerel with Crispy Potatoes and Caper and Preserved Lemon Sauce (page 181). You’ll need a large sterilized jar with a lid for this recipe.

Mayonnaise has an undeserved reputation for being difficult to make. With an egg yolk and some mustard as binders, and the help of a food processor when adding the oil, homemade mayo is as easy to make as it is delicious.

I think of Robiola as what I always want Brie to be. It’s even more lush than that French imposter, with a smooth, flowing core that’s like pure silk. The very best specimens must be tasted in Italy, where they don’t let unpasteurized milk stand between any man and his cheese. We get very fine imports here, however, and depending on the producer, your Robiola may be fashioned from either goat, sheep, or cow’s milk, or a combination. Because Robiola is so rich, I like to pair it with something tart and jammy, like this easy gooseberry compote. To serve, make sure the compote has cooled completely and the Robiola is at room temperature to allow it to be its runny, best self.