Attend a festival in Le Marche, and you may sample one of the greatest snacks you’ll ever have: olive all’ascolana. Crisp-coated, salty fried olives stuffed with a rich meat filling are a culinary marvel of taste and texture that originated in the town of Ascoli Piceno. We just had to try making these delightful bites, but we suspected it might be a challenge—after all, we’d have to figure out how to pit and stuff an olive! We tried starting with pitted olives as a short-cut, but found them lacking in color, texture, and overall olive flavor. Instead we used large, mild-flavored Cerignola olives, which are easy to find in delis and prepared food places. To remove the pits, we left the olive flesh in one piece, slicing down one side of the olive and cutting around the pit with a paring knife as if we were peeling an apple. We were pleasantly surprised to find that the process went quickly after we got used to pitting the first few. With these olives, the filling shares the spotlight, and we found a lot of impractical recipes calling for a menagerie of meat scraps or specialty cuts. We started with ground pork; while uninspiring by itself, additions of prosciutto, sautéed carrot, and shallot built beautiful layers of flavor. A little nutmeg provided the classic warm spice and aroma, while wine added brightness. One large yolk and Parmigiano gave the filling richness and a creamy texture. We prefer to use Cerignola olives, but other large brine-cured green olives will work, too. To allow for practice, the recipe calls for extra olives.
This one is more ritual than recipe and, for me, a most perfect alchemy, arming the most novice of cooks with a precise and measured objective. I love fresh pasta, but, I must admit, I equally love a dried pasta that is select heritage grain, preferably organic, skillfully milled and extruded under the immense pressure of antique brass dies, and dried in a time-honored tradition. The same goes for tomatoes. Whether it’s a rumor or a tomato, consider the source — as well as how and where it was grown and whether it was picked at the height of ripeness. Both pasta and tomatoes have a permanent place in my pantry.
Fettuccine Alfredo consists of four ingredients: Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, butter, fettuccine, and a pinch of salt. No cream. No eggs. Not even any black pepper. But this dish has been mucked up over the years with cream, thickeners, and worse. For our back-to-basics version, we limited our ingredient list to just five ingredients.
I love this dish, a rich savory pie made with whatever greens I find at the farmers’ market. I’ve made it with kale, Swiss chard, collard greens, radish tops, beet greens, half a bunch of parsley—if it’s green and leafy, it’s going in the torta! A generous amount of olive oil and grated Parmigiano-Reggiano enriches the greens and prevents the torta from feeling too restrained, too healthful. Serve thin wedges of this as a starter.
I learned to make these eggy disks not long after moving to Italy because I loved eating them. Though called frittata in Italy, they bear little resemblance to any of the thick frittatas often served for brunch in the States. It’s basically a very thin, herb-packed omelet that is cooked like a pancake—sizzled on one side until a golden crust forms, cooked over low heat until the top sets, then flipped with a wide spatula and browned on the other side.
Hoagie, grinder, submarine, or hero -- whatever you choose to call those long, usually drippy, and always delicious meals in a bun, this recipe is one you can make your own. Chickpeas are combined with ground meat, basil, and Parmigiano-Reggiano to make tender meatballs, which are just as good served atop pasta, too.
This recipe takes its inspiration from France’s classic onion tart, pissaladière. I was stunned by my first taste of that classic and the idea that onions could be a main event. In this simple recipe, a mix of onion varieties -- red, white, and green scallions -- are tossed with olive oil, thyme, and salt, then layered on a crust gilded with smoky cheese and finished with a dusting of Parmiggiano – Reggiano and a drizzle of heavy cream. The cooked cream tames the edges of the onion and thickens as it cooks.
In most of Italy, these dumplings are called gnocchi verdi (gnocchi with greens) and ricotta or ravioli gnudi (“nude ravioli,” or ravioli filling without pasta).
These beautiful gnocchi show off a rich red color. The flavor of the gnocchi is earthy but not intensely beet-y, and the texture is soft and delicate.
I was constantly missing the pasta dishes I grew up with in Italy, so I’d go to the general store, buy the ingredients, and make this over the two little hotplates in our communal room.