Summer

After many summers of preparing fresh tomato sauce—and boiling thousands of ears of sweet corn in water—it was only when I was working on the recipes for this book that I had a brainstorm: perhaps I could use the enormous potful of crushed plum tomatoes perking away on the stove to cook up the fresh sweet corn we were having for lunch. . . . Why not?

A simple dish that I loved as a child (and still adore) is beaten eggs cooked in a small pan of bubbling melanzana affogata (or Slow-Cooked Summer Tomato and Eggplant Sauce, page 259). Here’s how to make enough for 4 servings:

Pignoli (pine nuts) are an ingredient much loved and used in Italian cooking— from savory pasta dishes and pesto to meat dishes such as bracciole and rollatini, and an infinite number of desserts. Here it is the topping of the tart, and hence its name, pignolata, lots of pignoli. For me, pignoli are delicious nuts that I recall harvesting from a cone of the big pine tree at the end of my grandmother’s courtyard in Istria. It was a humungous pine tree—or maybe I was small. My brother Franco and the other boys would climb up the tree and shake or knock down the open cones. Burrowed in the open scales of the pine cone were the oval brown-shelled nuts, which the girls would crack open with stone on stone. First we would eat our fill, then we began collecting them for cooking. That fresh, sweet flavor of pine nuts is still vivid in my mind, and to me there is nothing worse than biting into a rancid old pine nut. So make sure that you get the freshest pine nuts, which should be sweet, nutty, and buttery at the same time. Buy them in small quantities, since they are expensive; use them quickly, and if you have some left over, seal them tightly in a plastic bag and freeze them for future use. To heighten their aroma, toast them just before using—although not in this recipe, since you will be baking them.

Peaches are delightful prepared this way, but apricots, cherries, or a mixture of both will yield equally good results. Serve warm in a bowl with vanilla ice cream.

In our house, where nothing goes to waste, you can bet that bread pudding is a highly esteemed dessert. This is a simple, delicious version (with a new twist that I just discovered). It is great in summer with any fresh berries—and frozen berries work fine the rest of the year. I like to use blueberries because they remain whole—especially small wild ones. I also like raspberries and other soft berries, precisely because they melt into the pudding and leave bursts of flavor where they baked. So you can experiment: firm strawberries would be nice, cut up, as would other semifirm fruits, like ripe pears. I would avoid very juicy fruits, though. I like white breads for pudding, but, as with the Peach Lasagna (following recipe), it should be a hearty homemade or country white bread, not sourdough. I don’t like sour breads in general, and certainly not for desserts. But when we were testing recipes in Vermont, we had only day-old bread that was a bit more sour than I liked, and that prompted me to develop a new twist on the recipe. There was a jug of maple syrup on the kitchen counter at my editor Judith’s house, and I decided to balance the sourness by drizzling the bread with syrup and toasting it in the oven to sweeten and caramelize it lightly. As I am sure you will agree when you taste the pudding, it’s worth using the maple syrup whether your bread is sour or not.

I remember having this condiment someplace in the Balkans, and it has been a summertime staple at my house ever since, especially when small crisp pickling cucumbers are abundant. A couple of hours before we eat, I salt the cuke slices and let them wilt. Just before we sit down, I toss the slices in yogurt with mint from the garden. A spoonful is enough to sauce a portion of fish, but I make it in big batches, because everyone heaps it on their plates as a dinner vegetable. Double the formula here to make a generous side dish serving six.

When traveling through Sicily, you will often encounter tuna or swordfish rollatini—or involtini, as the Sicilians call them. It is a traditional dish. What makes the dish particularly delicious and interesting is that they roll the rollatini in seasoned bread crumbs before grilling. The way I prepare the rollatini, they get a marvelous range of flavors by marinating before grilling in garlic, olive oil, and fresh thyme; then I smother them with a fresh tomato-and-lemon salsa after they’ve cooked (and try not to eat them for a couple of hours). The longer they sit—before and after grilling—the more flavorful they become. This is also a versatile preparation. Make as many rollatini as you want from a big piece of tuna, as I explain in the box, and schedule their marinating periods and quick grilling to your convenience. Serve them hot off the grill or later, at room temperature, when they taste even better. One rollatino makes a beautiful first course; two make a satisfying main course; a few rollatini slices make a terrific tuna sandwich for a picnic. And if you want to enjoy these any time of year—or if you don’t have a grill—just pop them in your oven (see below).

Fresh cod fillets are flaky and sweet and a favorite in my family for baking or broiling. In summer, I love thick cod steaks, cooked on the grill. Unlike fish more commonly cut for steaks—tuna, swordfish, shark, and others with firm texture—the softer flesh of cod can be a challenge to the griller, sometimes sticking to the rack or flaking apart. These problems are lessened by tying the steaks with twine, marinating in garlic oil, and searing on a hot clean grill. But even if you lose the perfect appearance or a flake of fish tears off, cod steaks are so sweet and delicious when grilled, it’s worth it. I serve cod with any (or all) of the cold sauces listed below; grilled lemon slices (see below) are a nice garnish too. Follow this basic procedure for any fish steak—tuna and the other firm-fleshed ones, or salmon, halibut, or bass.

You may be surprised to find recipes with chicken, veal, and pork cutlets in my vegetable chapter. But the inspiration for this distinctive group of dishes is the vegetables that cover and surround the small portions of meat. When zucchini, eggplant, and (especially) tomatoes are at their best in the summer—and when I’ve an abundance of fresh tomato sauce in the refrigerator and freezer—I cook these beautiful one-pot dinners. I call these “skillet gratinati” because a large skillet or sauté pan is an essential part of the cooking. First you sauté your vegetables (in some instances) in the skillet; then you gently brown the meat cutlets in the skillet; then you layer lovely individual servings in the skillet; and then you develop your sauce in the skillet. Finally, you place the whole skillet in a hot oven, where the meat and vegetables cook until tender, the sauce thickens, and the crowning layer of grated cheese turns into a golden, crisp gratinato. (The whole cooking process takes little more than half an hour.) The first stage, on top of the stove, is the most fun, when you create your main dish and sauce in one pan in minutes. Having all your components ready and staying close to the pan will ensure success with this simple dish. The gratinati here are similar in technique but offer different ideas for ingredients. The most detailed instruction is in the main recipe that follows, with briefer descriptions in the equally delicious variations (page 315 and page 317). Once you understand the process, do experiment, using different meats, vegetables, herbs, and sauces—make the skillet-gratinate technique your own.

Sweet corn and fresh lima beans are natural garden partners and one of my favorite vegetable combinations. I like traditional American succotash (originally a Native American dish, in fact), in which the vegetables are cooked together in water, milk, or cream. But limas and corn are especially delicious when prepared by my covered-skillet method, with olive oil and garlic (and a bit of peperoncino). You must use fresh-cut corn kernels and lima beans right out of the shell for this dish—frozen corn and limas will get mushy and just don’t have the flavor. Cutting corn kernels off the cob is easy. For a fast method, see below. And shucking lima beans is a pleasant task that I enjoy. Though I admit that Gianni, my mother’s boyfriend, is always happy to help me when I’ve got pounds of beans to shell.

In ancient times, an elixir was thought to cure anything, make one immortal, or turn metal into gold. And this elixir, a seasoned purée of really ripe raw homegrown tomato, certainly can turn ordinary vegetables into something delectable. I’ve paired it here with caramelized cauliflower, but it will make even a boiled potato an exciting dish. This is a great way to use very ripe homegrown or farm-stand tomatoes that are almost too juicy to cut up—and are often a bargain at the farm stand. If you have a lot of tomatoes, you can easily multiply this formula for larger quantities. Store elixir in the refrigerator for a week and enjoy it as a beverage as well as a vegetable sauce. I’ve been told it makes a great Bloody Mary. But my favorite is a small glass of chilled tomato elixir in the morning. Try it—it will change your day!

This is the pasta “sauce” I make in August, when just-picked tomatoes in all shapes and colors are piled on our kitchen windowsills—and it is too hot to hang around the stove. It’s a fast no-cooking preparation, but it requires ripe and juicy tomatoes, preferably homegrown or heirloom tomatoes from the farmers’ market. Be sure to have them at room temperature. The sauce actually develops in the hour or two when it marinates: salt draws the juices from the tomatoes, and they become infused with the flavors of basil and garlic. Then all you do is toss piping-hot pasta with the tomatoes and enjoy one of the rare treats of the whole year.

Here you prepare the tomatoes and sauté the base of onions and garlic in the exact same way as in the previous recipe, but the final sauce is unique. First you soften the eggplant chunks in the pan before adding the tomatoes. Then you cook the vegetables covered for a long time, so the chunks break down even more. The aim is to soften the eggplant so much that it almost melts into the tomatoes—which explains the traditional name for this sauce, melanzana affogata: literally, “suffocated eggplant.” The eggplant does not disappear, though, either in flavor or texture, I assure you. If you love eggplant as much as I do, you will want to make this sauce—and plenty of it.