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A great way to enjoy baccalà mantecato, before you eat it all as a spread or dip, is as a dressing for cooked pasta; 1 cup is enough to make a flavorful sauce for a pound of spaghetti, other long dry pasta, or fresh maltagliati pasta, which my father always liked. It is also good to dress potato gnocchi. Transforming the baccalà mantecato into a pasta sauce is best done in a big skillet—14 inches in diameter—into which you can drop all the pasta, straight from the cooking pot, and dress it—see the first part of chapter 3 for the basics of skillet sauces and how pasta and sauce are finished together.

Mackerel is a wonderful fish to buy when it is in season. It is inexpensive and intensely flavored, and when it is preserved in oil this way, you can keep it as long as a month; you’ll have in your fridge a delicious treasure to draw on for a quick appetizer or lunch dish. The most common size is 11 to 12 inches, and the filleting and boning of these small fish can be quite a job. So, unless you are feeling ambitious, get your fishmonger to do the work.

Here’s another of my delicious discoveries at Le Lampare, in Trani. Farro is again paired with seafood, the simply cooked grain tossed and dressed, like pasta, with a lively sauce of cured tuna, tomatoes, and capers. We can’t match the tuna used at Le Lampare—theirs was expertly house-cured from the flavorful and expensive ventresca (belly flap) of the fish—but with this recipe you can make a version that is truly delicious in its own right, using good-quality Italian canned tuna (packed in olive oil, of course). It is a great summer dish, as a main course or an appetizer.

As much as Puglia is about the land, it is also flanked by water: the Adriatic on one side and the Ionian Sea on the gulf side. Hence, one finds a big tradition of seafood as one travels down to the tip of the heel. In the quaint seaside city of Trani, along the Adriatic shoreline, is a delightful restaurant called Le Lampare. There I was introduced to farro con legumi e cozze, a beautiful stew of ceci and cannellini beans cooked with farro, one of my favorite grains, tossed before serving with savory mussels and their juices.

Antichi Sapori, a family-run restaurant in Montegrosso, a few kilometers south of Andria, is where I had some of the best local products and traditional dishes. Pietro Zito, the chef and owner, is tied to the land and works with local seasonal products. One of several memorable dishes I enjoyed there was ceci e tria, this dense soup of chickpeas with the textural interplay of cooked and fried pasta. It’s a flavorful simple dish, very rustic and yet mellow.

This is one of those elemental yet marvelous pastas made from almost nothing but a cook’s inventiveness. If you lived in Puglia and all you had in the pantry was oil, garlic, a handful of pasta, a hunk of bread, and a sheaf of dried oregano, this is what you would make for your family. And they would be happy. Don’t wait for an empty refrigerator to make this. Just have some good country bread—a couple of days old is best—and some bucatini. The contrasting textures of those thick, hollow strands, perfect for slurping, and the hand-torn crumbs of bread, crisp and crackling, is just great. (And if you happen to have some Canestrato Pugliese, grate some on top. It will take you straight to Puglia.)

In Puglia, cavatelli or strascinate would be the star of this delightful dish, dressed with ripe cherry tomatoes quickly softened in the skillet, and a heap of tangy arugula, tossed into the pot to cook with the pasta. Artisan-made pasta from Puglia is my preference, but any good-quality cavatelli or orecchiette would be a fine substitute. In summer, when ripe sweet tomatoes and tender arugula are plentiful, this dish will always be delicious.

This dish is finished in an unusual manner that at first surprised me. But it is so practical, and the results are so delectable, that it is one of my treasured discoveries from Puglia. The dressing is essentially completed in advance—fresh plum tomatoes roasted with seasoned bread crumbs. When you are ready to eat, just slide these intensely savory tomatoes on top of the fusilli in a big bowl and toss; the steaming pasta, just out of the pot, does the final cooking all by itself.

The beauty and delight of this dish is that it is so fresh and clean—and it is a cinch to make. It’s important to make the pesto with the best ingredients, then just toss in the hot cooked spaghetti to coat it, and enjoy.

Anna Cornino Santoro’s memorable couscous with scorpion-fish brodetto inspired me to create this version when I got home. I use grouper, a delicious fish, widely available and easy to work with (and certainly with fewer bones than scorpion fish!). Making couscous by hand, as Anna does, is not feasible for most of us, I realize. Fortunately, good-quality packaged couscous is in every supermarket these days. Almost all commercial couscous is precooked, so it takes barely 5 minutes to make a flavorful, fluffy base for the brodetto.

Manfredi’s version of chicken cacciatora was chock-full of delicious Sicilian eggplant. Indeed, the vegetable chunks shared the spotlight with the meat and made it more bountiful and satisfying. Undoubtedly, I realized, this dish must reflect the resourcefulness of cooks in Sicily in generations past. With many mouths to feed, and a limited supply of chickens (or money to buy them), they could extend the dish with the sweet tomatoes and meaty eggplants that grow so prolifically in every small garden patch. I hope you’ll be creative with this recipe too: if your chicken is smaller than the one called for here, or if you want to serve more people, fry up more eggplant and cook up more tomatoes for sauce. From one small chicken, you’ll have prepared a feast, all in one pot. Serve this with panelle (page 281) or polenta (page 109), or dress a bowl of pasta with the sauce and eggplant. Rest assured, no one will leave your table hungry.

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.

This is the warm salad we enjoyed at Manfredi Barbera’s as one of the appetizers. It is also delicious at room temperature—and in the heat of summer, it makes a marvelous main course or an accompaniment (contorno) to grilled fish or chicken.

We have all seen countless dishes called al Marsala on the menus of Italian-American restaurants. Too often, I have found, they disappoint me. The pork scaloppine I enjoyed at the Ferdinando brothers’ trattoria reminded me that this simple preparation depends so much on the quality of the wine that is splashed into the skillet. And I was not surprised to learn that the superb sauce coating the meat was made with a carefully chosen Marsala, dry and aromatic. After all, the town of Marsala lies just a few hours west of Palermo, and from that western tip of the island comes all authentic Marsala, in a wide range of vintages, colors, and degrees of sweetness. The finest Marsalas, aged a minimum of 10 years, are ranked with the great fortified wines of the world—sipping one of these is a pleasure you shouldn’t miss. But for good cooking, I recommend a moderately priced Superiore (aged 2 years) or Superiore Riserva (aged 4 years). I always prefer dry (secco) Marsala, even for desserts like Espresso Zabaglione (page 156); for these scaloppine, secco is a must.

In Sicily, the most popular fish to cook alla matalotta is whatever was just caught fresh! The aromatics and technique remain the same, and the outcome is always delicious. (Interestingly, it is one of the few Sicilian fish preparations that call for celery.) My top fish recommendation for this recipe is grouper; it has flesh that cooks and stays intact in the sauce. Halibut, striped bass, and black bass are other good choices. A whole black bass cooked alla matalotta is delicious—just mind the bones. Serve with grilled bread, couscous (page 304), or panelle (page 281). You can make this ahead of time and reheat to serve—just take the pot off the heat a bit before the fish and sauce are thoroughly cooked.

This is traditionally made with swordfish, but you can substitute tuna, bass, or other firm-fleshed fish in the recipe. You don’t need to buy expensive swordfish or tuna steaks—end pieces or chunks sold for skewered grilling are perfect for the sauce. Bavette is a long, flat dry pasta, like a narrow fettuccine. If you can’t find it, use good-quality dry fettuccine.

Cauliflower is delicious cooked with anchovy. At Trattoria Ferdinando III they add distinctively Sicilian touches like raisins, pine nuts, and saffron to make a marvelous cauliflower dressing for pasta.