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Everybody can relate to a sausage-and-pepper submarine sandwich being Italian American, since it is served at every street fair in the Northeast. The use of peppers with sausages is not as prevalent in Italy as it is in the Italian American community here, but this is a delicious dish. Imagine turning it into breakfast, especially on a morning when you have a few extra mouths to feed. The recipe is easy to prepare, because the sausage is taken out of its casings and crumbled into the pan, and everything else is added to it. You just scramble it all together; do not worry about making a perfectly round frittata here.

Sausage and broccoli rabe are a marriage destined to last. Often served with pasta, most commonly orecchiette, this recipe is for quick, easy, hearty sandwiches with some greens in them.

This is a unique rendition (and spelling) of veal parmigiana that I had in Rigazzi’s, one of the oldest restaurants on The Hill in St. Louis. It exemplifies the frugality and the ingenuity of those early immigrants. Instead of expensive veal cutlets, they ground lesser, tougher cuts of veal, then shaped them and treated them like a veal cutlet; the result was delicious and tender! At Rigazzi’s, it was the special of the day when we visited.

Just down Smallman Street from our Lidia’s restaurant, I have serious sandwich competition in Primanti’s, a Pittsburgh institution. I am charmed by their incredibly oversized warm capicola sandwich stuffed with French fries and coleslaw. I am not sure where in the U.S.A. this tradition of stuffing a sandwich with French fries became Italian, but the sandwich was so tall that I could not open my mouth wide enough to get my first bite. Primanti’s started as a sandwich pushcart, manned by Joe Primanti, in the Strip in the 1930s, selling sandwiches to truck drivers. One night, a trucker wanted to check if his load of frozen potatoes were good, so Joe Primanti cooked them up. Customers began asking for them, and to expedite the service they were added to the sandwich.

The gizmo, a glorified sloppy joe or Italian grinder, is Italian America on a sub roll. This is a great sandwich to make for a picnic or a party. Just make a big pot of the filling and keep piling it on the grilled bread. The filling can be reheated and even frozen—just be sure that it is wrapped tightly, so it won’t get freezer flavor. The one I tasted was made with sausage and beef, but just crumpled sausages would be fine; even chopped turkey fits the bill.

Chicago is the birthplace of this sandwich, and Al’s “#1 Italian Beef Sandwich” claims to be the best. The last time I was there, there was a line, and the outside tables were full of people munching on the beef sandwich. However, I think the recipe below will give you a sandwich much closer to what the Italian American immigrants were and still are making for their families. The Italian beef sandwich seems to have its roots in Italian weddings and celebrations as a frugal way to offer meat. The boneless beef rump, an otherwise tough piece of beef, when marinated, roasted, and cut into thin slices, and then topped with lots of Italian-style vegetables, went a long way served as a sandwich. This recipe makes enough for a crowd, or you could halve the recipe and feed a smaller group. That will be a problem if you just want a sandwich for yourself, but I think the only true way to get this sandwich to be as good as it can be is to make it from a whole rump roast. You can always enjoy the leftovers later.

It seems that the muffuletta sandwich originated in Sicily, set on what most likely was flatbread sprinkled with sesame seeds. And since the Sicilians were the first mass wave of immigration to the port of New Orleans, it would seem that the soft sesame-seed bread of the muffuletta is an American cousin of the bread of the pane ca’ meusa (spleen sandwich) still sold in Palermo markets today. This meatless rendition of the muffuletta was made on All Souls Day; the one with the cold cuts and salad is served on more festive days.

There are many versions of the muffuletta sandwich around New Orleans, but it seems that Central Grocery in the French Quarter is the place to go. The store is charming enough, but at the back counter, seated on a stool with a muffuletta sandwich in front of you, is where you want to be. We sat down across from a man who told us he’d had his first muffuletta sandwich here fifty years ago and came back regularly for more. Next to him were a couple who have been coming to Central Grocery to enjoy the muffuletta sandwich for more than forty years. We ordered one without any hesitation. The large hamburger bun–like bread was soaked significantly with the olive-oil dressing of the olive salad; then layers and layers of the salad and the cold cuts were added. The sandwich was cut in four and wrapped in parchment paper. It was ten in the morning, one would say time for breakfast, but the two of us savored the muffuletta sandwich as did all the other customers.

Salumeria Italiana is the place to go in the North End of Boston to buy Italian specialty foods. The store is small but meticulously furnished with some of the best of Italian imported and domestic products. For nearly five decades, the Martignetti family has upheld the time-honored tradition. It was early on a rainy morning when Tanya and I, camera and notepad in hand, paid a visit to the Salumeria. The workers were beginning to set up the products and sandwich of the day, getting ready for lunch. The resident salumiere, a timid elderly gentleman, repeatedly skirted the lens of our camera, but we did get some really good close-ups of the Salumeria panino of the day. No one was willing to share the recipe, either, so here is my rendition of what we saw and tasted; it is simple and simply delicious. Don’t miss out on visiting Paul Revere’s house, almost around the corner!

I had this sandwich in Baltimore, in a small, quaint mom-and-pop shop in Little Italy. Turkey is not too popular in Italy. After all, it was brought back to Europe after the discovery of America, and in Italy chicken and rabbits ruled the roost, along with other courtyard animals. In America, though, the turkey is the celebrated and celebratory animal, the one that fed famished early explorers coming to America. Well, this is a great sandwich to make on the days following Thanksgiving—or anytime, for that matter. The condiment and the greens are the Italian part, and the turkey is the American part—the perfect Italian American civic club sandwich.

When in season, soft-shell crabs are a big seller in all of our restaurants. People just love them. We make a light batter, fry them nice and crisp, and set them over a salad for our guests. During one of my trips to Baltimore, I wanted to go visit Crisfield Seafood in Silver Spring, Maryland, known for its soft-shell crab sandwich. The experience was good: the soft-shell crab, nice and crispy, was the best part; the sesame bun and the coleslaw were the usual suspects. In this recipe I’ve added my own twist to the bread and ingredients. Get a good semolina roll, and top the crabs with an arugula-and-egg salad, an Italian American solution. If you want to serve this as a salad, double the salad and dressing and omit the rolls. Serve crabs on top of the greens, with dressing dolloped on the side.

Known as pasta fazool in the Italian American community, this is the cornerstone of Italian soup-making. This recipe traveled easily from Italy along with the early immigrants. Beans and the other ingredients were easy to find, and the technique they used was just like back home. An inexpensive, nutritious soup, it cooked by itself while the woman of the house did her chores. Some options to vary this soup would be to purée part or all of the beans after they have been cooked, and before you add the pasta. This is the version kids love, and it is also used in restaurants for a seemingly elegant touch, although I like to bite into my beans. I also substitute rice or barley for the pasta, a common practice in the north of Italy, where rice is abundant.

Legumes are a big part of the culinary tradition in Italy, and they found a place in Italian American homes as well. Almost every Italian American I spoke with wanted to share a memory of his or her favorite lentil dish. Legumes, especially lentils, deliver a lot of flavor, plus nutritional and economical value, and everyone could afford them. The immigrants ate them a lot, and they are still a favorite in Italian American kitchens. Pasta and beans, pasta e fagioli—or, as Italian Americans call it, pasta fazool—is a traditional meatless Italian dish, although it usually refers to white beans, such as cannellini or borlotti. Pasta fazool probably came from Neapolitan immigrants, derived from the Neapolitan word for beans, fazul. The recipe below is a soup consisting of lentils and pasta, but you can turn it into a dry pasta dish instead of a soup by adding only 5 to 6 cups of water. Or even make the lentils as a vegetable dish by eliminating the 4 cups of water and omitting the ditalini. The pancetta is added for flavor, but to make the soup vegetarian, omit the pancetta and start with the onion.

This soup has weathered well among the generations of the Italian immigrant families that have cooked it. As I travel through America and look for the flavors and recipes the Italian immigrants brought with them, this recipe is almost always remembered fondly. It is still cooked with nostalgia and reverence, and at holidays, particularly in the homes of immigrants from southern Italy. It is a dish usually served when the whole family is at the table. Even if the “marriage” mostly likely refers to the marriage of the ingredients, the soup is also thought to give strength to a newly married couple for their wedding night.

Every region of Italy has its version of minestrone. The Italian American version seems always to have diced carrots, celery, potatoes, beans, and cabbage, rendering it distinct, with a touch of sour aftertaste. Variations include vegetables that were readily available in the small gardens Italian immigrants kept in their backyards or window boxes. Italian Americans love their minestrone so much that in 1949, Progresso Quality Foods began selling minestrone, as well as pasta e fagioli, in cans as a convenience food. At first the soup was available only in Italian American markets, but soon enough it hit mainstream America.

From what I recall, frittata made with sausage, bread, and eggs was a dish my grandmother in Istria often prepared, whereas the addition of peppers was something more Italian American. It is nonetheless a delicious combination. This recipe makes a great lunch with some salad on the side.

Frittata is the quintessential Italian meal. You can flavor it with anything you have on hand, and one of my favorite ways is adding dollops of fresh ricotta. Ricotta is a by-product of cheesemaking: after the curds for the cheese are drained from the whey, the whey is recooked with the addition of some milk, and soft ricotta curds slowly form. Ricotta is delicious, and Italians use it in just about any dish, from appetizer to pasta to soup to desserts, and, as here, in frittatas as well. The Italian American immigrants continued this tradition of using ricotta, and it can be found in a lot of Italian American kitchens. Since it was also easy to have a couple of chickens on hand in the backyard, we always had some fresh eggs. When there is nothing else in the house except eggs, this is the meal to make.

I first tasted this dish in an Italian American restaurant in the 1960s, and thereafter served it in my restaurants into the 1980s. In Italy, bacon and clams are not cooked together much, but I love this dish. It is an extraordinary combination of flavors—between the brininess of the clams, the sweetness of the roasted peppers, and the crispy pancetta or bacon taste that everybody loves. The dish has roots on the shore of Rhode Island, where it was created at the Little Casino hotel in Narragansett, early in the twentieth century.

With me being a Southern girl, there was no way I was going to get married without some fried chicken in the house! But how was I going to pull that off and still keep things elegant? In the kitchen at The Lady & Sons, we’re constantly on the go and very rarely have time to stop and fix a plate, so we satisfy ourselves quickly and deliciously with what we call a handle sandwich. This is simply a piece of white bread wrapped around a chicken drumette, doused in Texas Pete Hot Sauce. The only thing left when you’re done eating is the handle—get it? Well ,we feel like we came up with a new look for an old favorite. I hope y’all will try these and love ’em like we do.

The shrimp and grits station at our wedding was by far the most appreciated by the guests. The grits were ladled into martini glasses and smothered with succulent wild Georgia shrimp in sauce. Our family and friends lapped up glass after glass!