Seafood

As I wrote in this chapter’s introduction, the fishermen of Bagnara, a beautiful port on the Calabrian coast just north of the Strait of Messina, are renowned for their skill in catching the magnificent swordfish that migrate to this corner of the Tyrrhenian Sea every year. During our recent visit, I was not surprised to learn that the cooks of Bagnara are equally skilled when it comes to cooking pesce spada as well. The recipe I share with you here is among the simplest and best I have ever tasted, anywhere. Of course, as always in seafood cookery, the freshness of the fish is the key to success, so be sure to get swordfish at its absolute best.

It always pleases me when such a simple recipe can be so good. But every ingredient and every step must be perfect—the calamari, fresh; the olive oil, the best; and the pan must be hot for the quick cooking. I always prefer to buy whole calamari and clean them myself (you can see how easy it is to do in my book Lidia’s Italian-American Kitchen). I also like to leave the skin on the bodies, because it takes on a lovely color when cooked. However, now that squid are frequently sold already cleaned, which is a convenience, the body skin is usually peeled off as well. So, if you like the skin, as I do, ask the fishmonger at your market to leave it on. If that’s not possible, don’t worry: the dish tastes marvelous either way. (And if you are not a fan of squid, you could also prepare scallops, swordfish, or even a fillet of cod using this recipe.)

In the coastal areas of Basilicata, the varied catch of the day is the basis of this uncomplicated yet very tasty fish soup. Here I recommend using monkfish and grouper fillets, both with firm texture, so they won’t fall apart in the zuppa. Halibut is another good choice. Indeed, many varieties of fish and shellfish can be prepared this way, as long as you adjust the cooking time so the flesh remains intact and avoid overcooking. If using clams or mussels, use a wider pot, so the shells do not break the meaty fish as they open. For a more substantial dish, place a slice of grilled or toasted country bread, or a few slices of spicy potato, Patate Lessate con Diavolicchio (page 302), in each soup bowl before ladling in the zuppa di pesce.

I love this simple method for cooking whole octopus so it explodes with flavor. You just put it in a heavy pan and let it cook very slowly (with only olive oil, sliced onions, and olives to season it) for a couple of hours. As it cooks, it releases all of its natural, tasty water, which serves as a braising liquid. Though the meat loses some volume, its flavor is retained in the liquid, which naturally cooks into a great dressing for spaghetti or other pasta. In this recipe, the meat is cut into chunks that are tossed with the spaghetti and cooking juices. For a special occasion, though, you can serve the whole octopus, uncut (or two smaller octopuses, as called for here). If you dress the spaghetti with the juices alone and set the octopus on top, with the tentacles curling around and under, it makes a beautiful presentation. You can also serve this delectable cephalopod—either whole or cut into pieces—over freshly cooked soft polenta or slabs of grilled polenta. And any leftover octopus meat or sauce can be incorporated into a terrific risotto; with so much flavor in them, just a small amount of leftovers is all you’ll need to make a great risotto for two.

For me, there’s no better way to dress spaghetti than with a fresh seafood sauce. And this sauce, from the old fishing port of Termoli in Molise, is as simple and delicious as any. In the restaurants by the docks in Termoli (near the old citadel called Tornola), just-caught seafood is served in a brodetto. You eat the seafood, and then the kitchen will toss spaghetti into the sauce you’ve left in your bowl. In my version of spaghetti di Tornola, the calamari, scallops, and shrimp are part of the pasta dressing, but you can eat the brodetto in separate courses, Termoli-style, if you like. In summer, I use my mother’s home-grown, sun-ripened cherry tomatoes to make an exceptional sauce, but in winter, a couple of cups of canned plum tomatoes make a fine substitute.

The Italian title calls for John Dory as the fish, and by all means use it if you can find it, but otherwise sea bass will be just as delicious.

I love all kinds of Italian fish soups, having sampled countless versions of zuppa di pesce, served with just enough tomatoey sauce to slurp up with a spoon, as well as brodo di pesce, a flavorful fish stock usually with nothing but rice. A new discovery for me, though, was this Molisano version of brodo di pesce, with chard and peppers floating between chunks of seafood in a savory broth. Served with grilled bread or a slab of grilled polenta, it is indeed a complete meal. Relish it with a glass of crispy white wine from the region’s distinctive Falanghina grape varietal, and you can taste Molise beckoning you.

This dish showcases the skillful skillet cookery and flavorful pan sauces that delighted me in Umbria. After lightly frying the veal scallops, you start the sauce with a pestata of prosciutto, anchovy, and garlic, build it up with fresh sage, wine, broth, and capers—and then reduce and intensify it to a savory and superb glaze on the scaloppine. Though veal is most prized in this preparation, I have tried substituting scallops of chicken breast and pork; both versions were quick and delicious. Serve the scaloppine over braised spinach, or with braised carrots on the side.

Landlocked Umbria does not have a seafood cuisine. But its mountain lakes, rivers, and streams abound in freshwater fish, such as the tasty tench. This simple preparation is one I found in Umbria, and it is excellent for fillets of our sweet-water varieties, such as carp or whitefish, or even light ocean-fish fillets like sole. Serve with a salad, or with the Potato-Mushroom Cake with Braised Lentils (page 200).

This tasty sauce goes well with all kinds of fish. In the recipe, I use firm white fish, frying the fillets first, then briefly simmering them in the sauce. The acidity and intensity of the sauce also complement more oily fish, such as bluefish and mackerel. I like to grill bluefish whole (rather than fry them), then remove the skin and bones, and serve topped with sauce.

Ascoli is a city in the Marche region known for its big green olives. They add a distinctive local flavor to this sauce of tomatoes and canned tuna, a pasta dressing found in many regions of Italy. If you can’t find Ascolane olives, other green Italian olives will do. Do not be afraid to alter some of the other ingredients to make your own version of this tasty sauce. For example, anchovies add complexity, but you could omit them if you choose. And though chopped parsley is fine, a little mint and/or a little oregano could go far. Also, do not feel compelled to use the exact pasta shape: I call for ziti here, but fusilli, shells, or mafalde could all add a new dimension to this dish.

This is a very flavorful rendition of pasta and clam sauce, a bit more complex than the one Aunt Anna made for me on my first visit to Le Marche. It can also be made with other seafood, such as shrimp or calamari, in place of the clams—just keep in mind the varying cooking times of whatever shellfish you use. If you are not in the mood for seafood, omit it altogether and double the artichokes. And who is to say that you can’t do this recipe with chicken breast? Just add slivers of breast meat before the artichokes, cook and stir for a few minutes, then proceed with the basic recipe.

Zucchini is such an abundant and tasty vegetable, yet too often is bland and unpleasing when served. This preparation is simple and full of flavor. The anchovies provide much of it, and if you crave the anchovy taste you can increase the amount used. On the other hand, if you are apprehensive about anchovies, cut the amount in half. For extra spice, add crushed red pepper as well. Serve this hot, as an appetizer or a side dish, or prepare it in advance and serve at room temperature. It’s delicious either way (and thus an excellent buffet item). The savory zucchini makes a great pasta sauce, too—simply toss with hot drained ziti (or other short hollow pasta) and top with grated cheese.

Thick tuna steaks are not just for grilling. The stovetop technique here is quick and convenient. You use one big skillet for browning the fish steaks, make a simple (yet complex-tasting) sauce, and put the two together for a final brief braise that marries the flavors perfectly. This is the true alla Genovese method. If you prefer grilling to pan-cooking, however, you can certainly omit the first step of flouring and frying the steaks, and make the sauce separately. Use a smaller saucepan in this case, preparing the sauce as in the recipe, starting with the sauté of garlic, anchovies, and porcini in 2 tablespoons olive oil. (Use the other 3 tablespoons olive oil, and 1/2 teaspoon salt, to season the fish before grilling.) One advantage of a separate sauce is that it can be finished ahead of time, so when your guests arrive you only have to fire up the stove and cook the fish. And you’ll find it delicious with bass, codfish, or salmon as well as tuna. In fact, this sauce is so good, I suggest you have a good slab of focaccia to mop up the pan.

Cold soup and hot shrimp—this is a fantastic combination on a warm night. Blending the honeyed sweetness of this summer melon with intensely savory vegetables makes this dish incredibly refreshing. And I give the hot, spicy shrimp a hit of freshness by grilling finely sliced mint right onto them.

To make this pasta sing, use the freshest, best-quality crab available, such as jumbo lump crabmeat, Dungeness, or king crab. Adjust the heat from the chiles and the amount of lemon juice to your liking.

This is the definition of minimalist Thai cooking. The steam not only gently cooks the fish until just tender but also creates an instant, complex sauce from a handful of basic ingredients. Scoring the fish's flesh allows more of the flavor to season the fish and facilitates faster steaming. The fish is cooked on a plate that fits inside the steamer, to catch the juices.

There are two categories of entrée in Thailand: dishes served with rice, and noodle dishes, which are presented as one-pot meals and often eaten on the go. Rice noodles cook more quickly than wheat pasta and are the perfect neutral vehicle for intense Thai flavors. This Pad Thai is not the dish from the neighborhood take-out joint. "It ain't made with chicken," says Ricker, whose traditional take—pleasantly funky with fish sauce and preserved radish and a touch sour from tamarind—is meant to be eaten in the evening as a stand-alone dish.

Gently poach shrimp, then marinate them in the rémoulade for at least 2 hours or overnight to allow the flavors to meld.

This dish might not be to everyone's (westernized) taste on a hungover morning, and it's also a breakfast with many components—rice, grilled fish, miso soup, pickles and a Japanese-style omelette—and some relatively obscure ingredients. Having said that, this is as clean, wholesome and nutritious as breakfast gets, so if anything is going to make you feel better it may well be this. However, I advise you to steer clear of tofu with a hangover (vegetarians: you may shoot me now); I've used cubes of potato instead.