Easy

Of the treasures taken from the sea that surrounds Sicily, tuna is among the most prized. Sicilian cooks prepare tuna with care and respect, which usually means simply, as exemplified by these grilled tuna steaks. Aromatic wild oregano is found all over Sicily, and bouquets of the dried herb hang in almost every Sicilian home. When the tuna steaks come off the grill, they get a drizzle of virgin olive oil and a shake of the oregano bouquet—simply perfect.

You don’t need to go to Ferdinando’s in Palermo to enjoy these savory rollatini. They’re easy to assemble and cook in just a few minutes on the grill. For a lovely main course in summer, serve with a tossed green salad or a tomato-and-basil salad.

In Sicily, citrus fruits (agrumi) are enjoyed as a savory as well as a sweet, usually served between courses or at the end of a meal. A salad—called pirettu—is made from thick-skinned citrons (cedri). The green rind is peeled off, the center pulp is discarded, and the pith is sliced and dressed with salt, pepper, oil, and a pinch of sugar. Since fresh citrons are hard to find in America, here’s another citrus salad popular in Sicily, especially in the winter months, when oranges are at their best. Customarily it is made with blood oranges—sanguine or tarocchi—and that’s the way I like it best, though any small, juicy oranges will be delicious. Serve this in the Sicilian style, laying the rounds of orange and rings of red onion artfully on a platter with the dressing drizzled over, rather than tossing everything together. It is great as an appetizer, a refreshing end-of-the-meal salad, or an accompaniment to boiled or grilled meats.

Maltagliati means “badly cut” and is usually applied to fresh homemade pasta. Here I give you a shortcut way to enjoy the shape by breaking up dry lasagna sheets. If you want to make fresh maltagliati, follow the recipe for pasutice on page 20—the regional names vary, but the shape is the same. When using fresh pasta, remember you need more cooking water and you must stir maltagliati frequently, as the flat pieces have a tendency to stick. And if you don’t have lasagna, a long dry pasta such as fusilli lunghi or spaghetti will also be delicious with this sauce.

Here is a classic pasta, as delicious as it is simple and fast. But because it is such a minimalist creation, every ingredient is of utmost importance. Use a very good authentic pecorino, one produced in Lazio (the Italian region where Rome is located), Tuscany, or Sardinia. The cheese is at its best when aged only 8 to 10 months. And grind the black peppercorns just before making the dish—I like to crush the black pepper by hand in a mortar, into coarse bits that explode with flavor as I enjoy the pasta.

This gratin of fennel wedges and strips of prosciutto drizzled with butter and topped with Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano, then baked until golden, is rich, aromatic, and irresistible. It’s also quite convenient, since you can set up the baking dish hours ahead, keep it refrigerated, then pop it into the oven just before dinner. You can make this without prosciutto or substitute bacon, and it will be delicious, but it’s even better with prosciutto. Keep in mind that the cooking of prosciutto and cheese concentrates the saltiness, but the sweetness of the fennel brings it all into balance. Serve hot for best results.

This is one of those simple recipes loaded with flavor that I am sure you will make part of your cooking repertoire. The fennel’s sweetness and tinge of licorice are concentrated by the braising and balanced by the acidity and the saltiness of the capers. Almost all of the moisture needed in cooking comes from the fennel itself, rather than from other liquids, concentrating the vegetable’s natural flavors.

Fresh fennel is one of my favorite companions for good Italian sausage. Here meat and vegetables are skillet-cooked, separately and then together, until their flavors are merged and concentrated. It may seem that a lot of fennel is called for, but in cooking it diminishes greatly. Fennel prepared this way is also excellent with any grilled meats; it is even good with grilled fish.

The following is a simple recipe that will give you all the sensations of fresh fennel as the vendor would have it.

Castagne al vino are a delightful reminder from Maremma that the simple pleasures of rustic life are truly irreplaceable. Roast some chestnuts, and while they are still hot, wrap them in a wine-soaked cloth . . . wait a few minutes . . . then peel and enjoy them with a glass of wine. The question is: red or white wine? The maremmani enjoy, as I do, red wine, a good Morellino. But white wine is also delicious.

This skillet pasta is the epitome of good everyday Italian cooking. It is fast—everything, including the dried gramigna pasta, cooks in less than 10 minutes. The ingredients are right out of the pantry and fridge. And when you put them all together—the textures and tastes are in perfect balance. When dishes are so simple, every ingredient is very important. Here the feel and texture of curly gramigna pasta plays an important role, so do try to find it (see Sources, page 340). Other pastas, such as elbows, shells, or small pennette, will be delicious, but gramigna is used in Maremma, and I love it.

Swiss chard is a vegetable that is much appreciated in Maremma. Even though it is readily available in most supermarkets, it is not much used in the States. I love it, and suggest that whenever you are thinking spinach you should think of substituting Swiss chard. It usually comes in a bunch tied around the stalks. Look for young, tender bright-green leaves and thin stalks. This recipe, cooked with cannellini beans, makes almost a complete meal. In Maremma, this dish is served with grilled meats. I love grilled sausages with it, but I also like it topped with a poached egg, a slab of grilled crusty Tuscan bread, and a drizzle of olive oil—it makes a great lunch. This dish is good just off the stove, but it gets better when it rests a bit and is reheated. It will keep in the refrigerator for a few days, and also freezes very well.

Acquacotta literally means “cooked water,” a traditional term for a soup of just a few ingredients cooked in boiling water. But the pale name in no way reflects the savor and satisfaction of this vegetable soup. It has great depth of flavor, and when served Alma’s way, with a poached egg and country bread in the bowl, it is a complete meal. In country fashion, Alma cracks a raw egg right into each portion of hot soup and inverts another bowl on top, as a cover. You have to wait (mouth watering) for a minute or two before removing the top bowl, to find a beautifully cooked egg. Here I transfer the soup to a skillet and poach the eggs over low heat, to be sure they have cooked thoroughly. Since this soup is so quick, inexpensive, and nourishing, local women would make it often, especially when extra farmhands came to help to harvest the grapes and olives and to work the land.

This is one of the simplest recipes in this book, and it is one of the most sublime. Yes, truffles add a mystique—but even without them this is my favorite way to cook eggs. Essential to this procedure is never to allow the olive oil to reach temperatures at which heat alters and degrades the flavors. Hence, you will ultimately have the full presence of fresh olive oil in a natural state intermingled with the egg and truffle flavors. Thus, the quality of the olive oil is paramount here, more than in most cooked dishes. I like using lighter and more vegetal olive oils from the Lago di Garda district, Friuli-Venezia Giulia, or Istria. Another important point is to keep the curd of the egg large and soft. The steady but gentle dragging of the curds—strapazzati means “dragged”—and controlled heat prevents any part from cooking solid, and in this moist state all the natural flavor of the egg comes through. As with olive oil, the best quality eggs are essential—as fresh as can be, and organic if possible. There is a basic lesson to be learned in this recipe that applies to Italian cooking—for that matter, to all cooking—get the best ingredients, do not overcrowd the flavors, and work the food as little as possible. Along with this lesson, I am sure, you’ll get some of the best scrambled eggs you’ve ever tasted—even without truffles.

Bagna cauda is one of Piemonte’s best-known dishes. The name means “warm bath,” and that’s what it is: a sauce of garlic, butter, oil, and anchovy heated in a deep earthenware container set on the table over a little flame, like a fondue pot. Also on the table are arrayed a great variety of cut vegetables, raw and cooked, to be dipped in the piping-hot sauce, eaten, and savored. In Piemonte, bagna cauda will always include some of the fabulous vegetables for which the region is renowned, such as cardi gobbi from Nizza Monferrato, and the gorgeous long peppers of Carmagnola. At home I serve an assortment of seasonal vegetables: You’ll find some suggestions on the next page. This is a great starter on the table or for a buffet. To make more sauce for a crowd, simply multiply the ingredient amounts given in the recipe.

This is a poor man’s simple recipe, a warm filler for cold winter days in Friuli. I use spinach, but any available green vegetable would have been used, and would be good. Cornmeal lovers will appreciate this; it has all the comforts of porridge, filled with the flavors of Friuli.