Gluten Free

This soup is common in all of the regions hugging the Adriatic, where fish trimmings of one sort or another are always available to cook into a light, flavorful broth. We had it often when we lived in Istria, whenever someone in the family was not feeling well, for its supposed restorative powers. And although children sometimes disdain “fishy”-tasting food, I recall vividly savoring this broth, which had the taste of the sea but was sweet and elegant too. In those days, we would take the fish heads and tails out of the soup pot and pluck the hidden morsels of whitefish meat off the bones. In the version that follows, you’ll strain the bones out of the broth and briefly cook some meaty (but boneless) trimmings just before serving the soup.

Turnips play an important role in Friulian cuisine, especially in the form called brovada—turnips that have fermented for several months, as a way to preserve them and to develop a pronounced and appetizing acidity. Brovada is incorporated in many dishes, grated and braised with sausages and other meats, in soups, or just as a tangy and healthful vegetable. This recipe, using fresh turnips, produces a side dish in the same vein as brovada, with distinctive acidity, well suited to accompany all sorts of cured and fresh meats. It is full of typical Friulian flavors, but you do not have to wait months for the turnip to ferment!

Everybody is familiar with lamb chops and leg of lamb—but how about the shoulder? When is that used? Well, here I give you the recipe for a roasted lamb shoulder—and you will see why it is my favorite cut for roasting. The meat is sweeter on the blade bone, and, with lots of cartilage to melt during roasting, the meat is finger-sticking good. You might not get a clean, precise cut of meat from the shoulder, but it will be delicious.

In Friuli and neighboring regions, cooking pork and cabbage together in the same pot has been the habit for centuries. Sometimes the cabbage is in the form of sauerkraut (for example, Istrian cappucci guarniti, page 27), and sometimes it is fresh Savoy cabbage. This recipe is a quick and delicious rendition of this one-pot tradition in which the meat and its juices are used to flavor and cook the cabbage. Here the chops are browned in the skillet, leaving caramelization and pan juices that permeate the cabbage as it cooks alone, until the ingredients are united for a few minutes at the end. Together, they make a harmonious and satisfying meal—but if you have a hungry bunch, serve some grilled polenta alongside.

Risotto with spinach is delightful, but it is only one of the many risottos made in springtime in Friuli. At the end of winter, the cuisine in Friuli is driven by the wild herbs that people pick or buy from the foragers who come to the markets. These flavorful, healthful greens are cooked in risottos, soups, pasta fillings, and frittatas. This recipe shows the basic technique that is used in Friuli to make risotto with common, delicious plants such as nettles (ortiche), wild asparagus (asparagina), and the popular herb sclopit (Silene vulgaris—maiden’s tears). So, if you happen to come by some of these greens, cook them in place of spinach.

These cheese-encrusted rounds of cooked chard, similar to frico, are from Carnia, a district of quaint cities and towns scattered along the Carnic Alps. The milk from the cows grazing on its high-altitude pastures makes some of the best Montasio in all of Friuli. I like to serve these unusual and irresistible cakes as a highlight of lunch or brunch, topped with a poached egg, or in between slices of country bread, as a delectable vegetarian “cheeseburger.” They’re a marvelous accompaniment to grilled meats, or, cut into small wedges, a great party nibble.

Crusty fried potatoes are as popular in northeastern Italy as they are in the United States. This Trieste version is as delicious as any I have ever tasted. You will get best results using a nonstick or cast-iron pan, browning and turning the potatoes over and over, so the caramelization is dispersed throughout. Use the timing here as a guideline, but follow your own tastes to create just the degree of crustiness you love.

In Trieste, every home and every trattoria has a pot of this hearty soup perking on the stove, especially during the winter months, when the bora, a cold north-easterly wind, blows down from the Carso mountains above the city. Bean soups with pasta (pasta e fagioli) or rice are popular here too, as in other parts of Italy, but the combination of beans and sauerkraut is the favorite by far—a perfect example of the Slavic influence on the culinary culture of Trieste.

Brodetto means cooked in a soupy medium, and so it is in this recipe: different fish cooked together with aromatics to form a unified, delicious dish. The more varieties of fish in the brodetto, the more complex the flavor will be. Traditionally in Istria, brodetto was made with the pick of the catch. But in many a fisherman’s household, such fish was sold, and his family ate what he didn’t sell, a mix of the smaller fish, which were all harmonized by the brodetto cooking method. I remember many brodetti of my childhood in which there were only small fish. I wasn’t even ten years old, but already my mouth was well attuned, and I would screen with efficiency all the small fish bones—a skill that is still with me. This dish can be made several hours in advance and reheated, very gently. Set the meaty fish on a platter and keep warm, and use the sauce and remaining bits of fish to dress the pasta (or polenta). I like to let everyone help themselves to fish from the platter. And since the crab should be eaten with the hands, provide an empty bowl for the shells and bones—and plenty of towels!

This simple soup can be made anytime, but it is best with locally grown asparagus (if you can possibly get it) with the sweetness of springtime. It’s also important to cook this soup sufficiently to develop the full flavor and silkiness from the base of leek and potatoes.

With hens, ducks, and geese in the courtyard, my grandmother never worried about making a particular kind of broth. When she needed broth for a soup or a sauce, she might dispatch a skinny old rooster or an old fowl whose useful days were done. If she had a pile of bones and trimmings saved from a big meal with several roasts—chicken, ducks, or a goose—she’d make broth. If the bones were from different kinds of birds, it made no difference: they would go into the pot together. That’s the way I encourage you to think about making broth with this recipe (or even without a recipe). You may not have a skinny old rooster running around, but you can certainly search the supermarket meat case for packages of bony poultry parts, such as drumsticks, wings, and backs, or ask the butcher for backs and ribs. Gizzards are good, too. And you should save and freeze the neck and gizzards that you’ll usually find in a package tucked into a roasting chicken (they’ll all be good in your broth except for the liver). Also, use trimmings and the remnants of your holiday roast. If there’s not enough of one kind of poultry, buy two kinds and cook them together. If you should come across a nice beef or veal bone that you’ve frozen and forgotten, could you use it? Though my recipe does not call for it, here’s what my grandmother would tell you: “So the broth has stronger flavor? That’s good. Throw it in.”

This is a hearty soup that my grandmother made—though never the same way twice. Sometimes she would add some pasta near the end of cooking, in the style of pasta e fagioli, or add another kind of bean, since legumes were so important. In season she would toss in a cup or two of fresh corn kernels. This is really a one-pot meal, in two courses. First you have the velvety, rich soup, then sliced sausage and ribs as a second course. With a piece of country bread and a small salad, who could ask for more?

“Terrine” is the name given to a specific mold commonly used in French cuisine, but its definition has changed over time. I like to play around and use different molds shaped like triangles, ovals, and rectangles. I love the vibrant color of the hibiscus flower and I think its tart flavor complements many other fruits. I chose these particular flavors because they go quite nicely together and because I’ve always thought different shades of one color suggest a subtle elegance.

The city of Oaxaca has some of the best frozen treats in Mexico, despite the fact it isn’t located right near the coast. This particular recipe is adapted from one given to me by Dinorah Allende, a beautiful woman who owns Chagüita, a delicious nevería that has been around for five generations. Be sure to buy culinary-grade rose petals from a trusted source that doesn’t use any pesticides or chemicals (the smaller petals have the most intense flavor), and get the highest-quality milk possible.

The light granular texture of this tasty ice cream is what makes me love it so much. Swirl in some cajeta toward the end of the churning or top it with some berries if you want to add a complementary flavor, though I think it is perfect just as it is.

I did a lot of experimenting when I worked at Rosa Mexicano as the pastry chef, and trying out new ice cream flavors was one of my favorite things during my time there. I have always loved rum-raisin ice cream and thought raisins and tequila might also go well together. The reposado and añejo styles of tequila have been aged and come through very nicely, but I felt the ice cream needed another layer of flavor, so I added canela, which turned out to be just what was missing.

Avocado is one of the many ingredients indigenous to the Americas, and luckily it is available in supermarkets all over the world. The Hass avocado is the creamiest and sweetest variety, but when it comes to sweet preparations, many may wonder—avocado ice cream? Most people have had avocado in a salty and/or spicy format, or at least as an accompaniment to something that is not primarily sweet. If you like avocado, however, you will really enjoy this ice cream. Its natural oil gives the ice cream a very smooth and silky mouthfeel, and the lime juice heightens its flavor. Although it may taste too sweet before freezing in the ice cream maker, it will be just right when it’s done.

The culinary diversity of corn is manifested in its incredible array of preparations. It’s most often associated with and used in savory dishes, but it has snuck into various sweet ones, and corn ice cream is absolutely one of the best. Be sure to take advantage of the height of corn season, because fresh corn’s sweetness will seep into the flavor of the ice cream. Traditionally, this ice cream is not made with a custard base, but I believe that it enhances the creaminess of the corn.