Gluten Free

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!

I cook cauliflower many ways and my family loves them all (certainly I do). But if some in your family don’t like the distinctive, “sulfur” quality in cooked cauliflower, try this skillet method. It eliminates the sulfur taste and produces a cauliflower floret that’s entirely different from a boiled one—crispy on the edges, and almost coated with a sweet caramelization. It’s delicious by itself but even better with the lively contrast of Garden Tomato Elixir.

In springtime, when farmers’ markets sell really fresh, locally grown asparagus—or if you’re lucky enough to pick spears in your own asparagus bed—cook them by the skillet method. You’ll find it concentrates the natural sweetness and subtle asparagus flavors that are at their peak for only a day or two. Butter and cheese are natural complements to asparagus, and here they both get a final delicious toasting. For details on how I trim asparagus—and a fine cooking method for the year-round spears that have been shipped to supermarkets—see the Scallion and Asparagus Salad recipe (page 35).

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.

About half the tomato plants I put in our garden beds each summer are plum tomatoes, mainly Italian varieties but also some of the old-fashioned American “heirlooms” that are being revived. Of course, New York is not Naples, and our San Marzano and Roma tomatoes don’t absorb the intense sunlight that they would in Italy, but with my mother’s careful tending (and the kids’ attention too), the plants are prolific and the tomatoes big and sweet. When they ripen—by the bushel, it seems—we make these sauces, one with just tomatoes and the other with tomatoes and eggplant. They are simple sauces, mostly the primary vegetables and big “bouquets” of fresh-cut basil branches (and olive oil, onion, garlic, and peperoncino, naturally). Yet they have a freshness and intensity that are distinct from any sauce made with canned tomatoes, even the finest San Marzano tomatoes. We make both of these in large quantities, in part because the plants are so productive (and Grandma won’t let anything go to waste), but mostly because they are so delicious and versatile. I put them on pasta, eggs, meats, and other vegetables. They are key components in some of my favorite summer creations, including the vegetable lasagna and skillet gratinate that you will find elsewhere in this chapter. And I freeze as much of both sauces as I can—they keep for months and retain their fresh, summery flavor. It’s a joy to cook with them in December or January!

Many people love eggplant but dread the frying of it and don’t like all the oil the eggplant absorbs. I am a lifelong eggplant lover, but I do like to eat—and cook for my family—in a healthy way. So I like this preparation, which gives you all the good flavor of eggplant without the frying: you poach small eggplant wedges in water and red wine vinegar, then season and marinate them in fresh mint, garlic, and drizzles of olive oil. After an hour, the layers of bright flavor in each slice are developed and you have a delicious and versatile dish. The wedges are a treat by themselves and a fine complement to many other dishes; see below.

Poached zucchini, cut into rounds or cubes, is a terrific salad ingredient. This salad is a lovely combination of tastes and colors, but you can follow the same basic approach without the potatoes, without the eggs, or even without the onions. If you are preparing zucchini and potatoes for salad, it’s easy to cook them in one pot of water. Start boiling them together and remove the zucchini when they are “droopy,” as described in the main recipe. Usually the potatoes will need to cook a bit longer, until they are easily pierced with a fork or sharp knife. Let everything cool, then toss your salad and dress it just before serving.

Poaching is not a common preparation here in the U.S., but in season all over Italy you will be served zucchini cooked this way, simply seasoned with salt and olive oil. It is a perfect method when excellent zucchini are abundant—convenient to do the cooking ahead. Let the zucchini cool and you can serve them many delicious ways—as an appetizer, a side dish, or the centerpiece of a summer salad. (See below for some good ideas.) You can expand this recipe as much as you want for large parties.

Here is another unusual preparation of zucchini that will heighten your appreciation for a wonderful vegetable that is often abundant and underused. It’s my simplified version of a traditional method—in escabesce—in which sautéed zucchini is marinated in vinegar with fresh mint. Here, zucchini and scallion slices caramelize slowly in a skillet, are quickly coated with sizzling vinegar, and are tossed with fresh mint. The resulting layers of flavor are distinct but harmonious. This is a versatile addition to your repertoire of fresh-from-the-garden recipes. Made ahead and served at room temperature, it’s a lively side dish all summer long, especially good with anything off the grill.

You probably have enjoyed grilled corn; you may or may not have tasted a grilled fresh fig. I’m almost sure, however, that you never had them together in one dish. But when late summer brings them to market at the same time, I hope you will try this recipe. It’s a simple one to do ahead: you grill the corn on the cob and then grill the figs (they take barely a minute). You slice off the corn kernels, toss them with the figs, and serve the dish at room temperature. The golden vegetable and dark fruit are a great-tasting and pretty combination just as they are, but if you happen to have some Drizzling Sauce of Balsamic Vinegar already made (or a bottle of balsamic vinegar to reduce), it’s definitely worth applying the final swirl of sauce. The acidic tang sets off the sweetness of all the sugars in the corn and figs, already intensified by the heat of the grill. You can use either a gas or a charcoal grill for this, but keep the fire moderate (and pay attention, especially with the figs) so the sugars are caramelized, not burned.

Green beans are delicious, but they can get boring. But letting a little gorgonzola melt into the beans gives them a marvelous complexity. This is great as an appetizer or a side dish with grilled meats.

With its developed flavor and moist, saucy consistency, risotto is still special the day after—it’s not just cold rice. Riso Sartù is a dish I always enjoy when visiting my cousin Clara Pacelli in Naples. It is one of the most wonderful ways I know to transform cooked risotto into something new. The risotto is blended with meat sauce, green peas, and lots of grated cheese and packed into small molds with morsels of egg, prosciutto, and mozzarella hidden inside. Baked and then unmolded, the cakes are crisp and crunchy outside—as you can see in the photo below—and creamy and chock-full of treats inside. This recipe makes six cakes with 2 1/2 cups of risotto and a cup of Ragù alla Bolognese (page 143) as the meat sauce. It is easy to multiply the formula if you have more risotto and sauce, and ovenproof cups to serve as molds. This dish might be made today with leftovers, but traditionally it was the specialty of the Neapolitan aristocracy, and risotto was made expressly for it.

I love making risotto for family meals. It’s not something I have time for every day—it takes a good 30 minutes, mostly at the stove—but it is one of those special dishes that focus my attention and engage all my senses in the amazing processes of cooking. I smell, see, and taste what’s in the risotto pan, of course, but I am listening too: for the clicking sound that tells me the rice grains are sufficiently toasted and it’s time to splash them with wine; for the distinctive bubbling as each addition of cooking liquid disappears in the pot, which tells me the rice is ready for more. If I’ve stepped away from the stove—I do take a break from stirring risotto now and then, and you can too—that sound brings me back. I add more liquid and stir (and stir and stir), and feel, through the wooden spoon in my fingers, the corner of the pan where the rice is almost sticking, the resistance that tells me yet another cup of broth is needed before I wander away again. The Basic Risotto recipe that follows is one that will give you this marvelous engagement of the senses. It’s a simple formula that will let you focus on the critical steps in cooking—in the end, creating a great risotto is 100 percent technique—not on a long list of ingredients. You can make this right out of the cupboard, building flavor and superb texture with just olive oil, onions, rice, wine, water, salt, and cheese. Nothing else, not even butter, is necessary. I give you choices, though: use butter or leeks or broth if you want, or more or less of the ingredients listed in ranges. I want you in the driver’s seat, following your senses and tastes, to achieve the texture and flavor you like best (see more on these choices in the box on page 228). With risotto, you see, it is more important that you understand what you are doing than that you add things in prescribed amounts. When you are in control of what’s happening in the pot, you will feel how powerful a few ingredients and a few techniques can be in creating an outstanding dish. To sharpen your focus, you’ll find each step of the recipe instructions accompanied by a brief explanation of its purpose and the chemistry of risotto—these are short, and, believe me, you will have plenty of time to read them while you are stirring! And if you have further questions about risotto, write me at www.lidiasitaly.com. I love teaching about this precious treasure of Italian cooking.

This appetizer torta is made with chilled polenta, not soft polenta like a pasticciata. It’s as rich as any dessert cake but much simpler and faster. Make it in any size you want, but even this small cake will be enough to serve six uninhibited eaters.

Polenta pasticciata is a layered baked dish, just like lasagna, but made with warm, fresh polenta instead of pasta. And, like lasagna, it is marvelously versatile: you can put all manner of good things in between the layers of polenta—cheeses, vegetables, meats, or sauces, or a combination. I’ve narrowed down the possibilities for this pasticciata, which is filled with one of the savory long-cooked sauces on pages 134 to 155. Most of them make great fillings, with intense flavor and chunky texture that complement the mild sweetness and softness of the polenta. So I am leaving the final choice of sauce to you: whether you decide to use one of the guazzetti or meat Bolognese or the mushroom ragù or Savoy-cabbage-and-bacon sauce, the procedure is exactly the same. Perhaps you have one of these in your freezer right now! If you’ve got 4 cups, that’s enough to fill a pasticciata that will serve eight as a main course, or even more as a side dish, perfect for a buffet or large dinner party. But don’t give up if you only have 3 cups of mushroom ragù or guazzetto. If you also have Simple Tomato Sauce (page 132) on hand, blend in a couple of cups to extend your base sauce; or simmer up a quick marinara to use as an extender. You have lots of flexibility with polenta pasticciata: use the cheeses you like in amounts you are comfortable with. To make a deep pasticciata with thick layers, which makes a great presentation unmolded, assemble it in a 3-quart baking dish or a 12-inch cast-iron skillet, filled to the brim. For a crispier texture and for more golden gratinato on top, spread the layers thin in a wide shallow casserole. Use besciamella to add moistness and richness, or do without it. With good basic polenta and a deeply flavored long-cooked sauce, your pasticciata will be delicious however you make it.

I suggest you use duck legs to make this guazzetto, because they are juicier. But if you can’t buy duck legs separately, you can cook the whole duck. Another way to skin this cat is to remove the duck’s breasts, make the guazzetto with the rest of the duck, and sear the breasts to be served as a second course or a treat for another meal.