Horace, born Quinto Flacco of freed Roman slaves in the sleepy village of Venosa in the north of Basilicata, was educated in Rome and Athens in philosophy and literature and trained as a soldier. It was his poverty, though, that piqued him to write verse. A satirist, a classicist, a romantic, Horace was also a dyspeptic. He sought cures from alchemists and magicians. He journeyed to Chiusi (an Etruscan town in Umbria, fifteen kilometers from our home) to sit his ailing bones in icy, sulfurous baths. But it was this soup of dried peas and leeks, a food of his childhood, to which he paid homage in his works as his only cure. The folk of Venosa present, having little else to claim, make the soup in every osteria and taverna, each cook armed with at least one trucco—trick—that makes his soup the one and only true one. Here follows mine, its only trucco its artlessness.
Turn humble onions into this thrifty yet luxe pasta dinner.
Caramelized onions, melty Gruyère, and a deeply savory broth deliver the kind of comfort that doesn’t need improving.
This classic 15-minute sauce is your secret weapon for homemade mac and cheese, chowder, lasagna, and more.
This is the type of soup that, at first glance, might seem a little…unexciting. But you’re underestimating the power of mushrooms, which do the heavy lifting.
This pasta has some really big energy about it. It’s so extra, it’s the type of thing you should be eating in your bikini while drinking a magnum of rosé, not in Hebden Bridge (or wherever you live), but on a beach on Mykonos.
This is what I call a fridge-eater recipe. The key here is getting a nice sear on the sausage and cooking the tomato down until it coats the sausage and vegetables well.
A dash of cocoa powder adds depth and richness to the broth of this easy turkey chili.
The silky French vanilla sauce that goes with everything.