Simmer

To keep them both intact, add the little “pockets” of ricotta and the eggplant pieces just before serving the pasta or turning it into the baking dish. It is one of the nuances in cooking that make a difference. When you take a bite of the finished pasta, you’ll get little bursts of different tastes, which you wouldn’t enjoy if the eggplant pieces were broken apart and the ricotta was mixed in with the pasta. If you choose to bake the pasta, make sure the pasta is well moistened when it goes into the baking dish—the heat of the oven will dry it out a little. You can toss little pieces of mozzarella or Fontina cheese in with the pasta before adding the ricotta and eggplant if you like. Just make sure the consistency of the pasta stays fluid and creamy.

If you have trouble finding ground pork, or if you prefer to grind your own, it’s really very easy. (And if you buy a piece of bone-in pork to grind, you’ll have the bones you need for the sauce.) Remove all bones and gristle from the meat, but leave some of the fat. Cut the pork into 1-inch pieces, and chill them thoroughly. Grind about half at a time in a food processor fitted with the metal blade. Pulse, using quick on/off motions, until the meat is ground coarsely. In my region of Italy, tomato paste is usually added along with the onions to caramelize a little bit. But around Naples, and the rest of southern Italy, tomato paste is stirred right into the sauce. That’s how I do it here. When the sauce is finished simmering, you can pull the meat from the bones and stir it into the sauce, or you can do what I do—nibble on it while the sauce perks away. This makes quite a bit of sauce—enough to feed a small crowd and have enough left over to freeze in small quantities for a quick pasta meal for one or two.

Make this sauce with fresh tomatoes only when the juiciest, most flavorful ripe tomatoes are available. (Increase the amount of olive oil a little if you make the sauce with fresh tomatoes.) Otherwise, canned plum tomatoes make a delicious marinara sauce.

Bolognese is a very versatile sauce. Not only can it dress all shapes and sizes of pasta, like fresh tagliolini (page 180) or dried spaghetti or rigatoni, you can also use it instead of the Italian-American Meat Sauce (page 144) in the lasagna on page 156, or in a meaty version of the pasticciata on page 158. This recipe makes enough sauce to dress 1 1/2 pounds of dried pasta or one and a half recipes of tagliolini—good for feeding a hungry crowd. It also freezes well, if you’d like to enjoy it in smaller quantities. Warm the sauce while the pasta is cooking and toss it with the cooked pasta, adding a little of the pasta-cooking water if necessary to make a creamy sauce. Toss in some grated Parmigiano-Reggiano just before you serve it.

This, like bean- and potato-based soups, can be made ahead, but will thicken a lot. The best bet, if you plan to make the soup in advance, is to reheat it slowly, adding water or stock as needed to restore the soup to its original thickness. And always check the seasoning of reheated soups before you serve them.

Sprinkling the onions with salt as they cook not only seasons them, but extracts some of the water and intensifies their flavor. Keep the water hot before adding it to the soup, as described below, and you won’t interrupt the cooking—it will flow smoothly from start to end. Remember this when braising meats like the short ribs on page 218, or when making risotto. You can use the method outlined below—bringing the beans to a boil, then soaking them in hot water for an hour—anytime you want to cook beans without soaking them overnight, or anytime you’ve forgotten to soak them a day in advance. It works especially well here because, by soaking the pork along with the beans, you kill two birds with one stone. (I soak the dried or cured pork to remove some of the intense curing-and-smoking flavor. If you like it intense, just rinse the pork under cold water before adding it to the soup.)

If you’re making salad with the tender, inner leaves of a head of escarole, this is a good place to use the tough outer leaves. In fact, they’re even better for this soup. Just remove any bruised or yellow parts of the leaf and shred the rest. If you like, double the amount of beans in this recipe, fish half of them out of the pot after cooking, and save them for the Arugula and White-Bean Salad on page 60. Spoon off all but enough of the cooking liquid barely to cover the remaining beans before adding the escarole and finishing the soup. Whole dried peperoncino or diavolillo peppers are the type of chili peppers that are used, seeds and all, to make the crushed red pepper that you are familiar with. Toasting the whole peppers along with garlic cloves in olive oil brings out their nuttiness and spice. I like to serve them whole right in the soup, where they can be easily spotted and removed.

You have all seen those large, wax-coated provolone cheeses hanging like oversized pears in Italian groceries. When the same cheese is made into smaller shapes, which are hung to dry only briefly, they are sold as a softer, milder cheese known as provola. The wonderful soft texture of the cheese is perfect for this reinforced soup. If you cannot find provola, substitute a young soft cheese like Fontina or fresh Pecorino. You can use fresh mozzarella, but it will be very stringy when ladling and eating the soup. Boiling the meatballs before adding them to the soup may seem a little odd, but it removes some of the raw-meat flavor and helps keep the clear flavors of the soup intact.

Stock will make a much more flavorful soup, but if you do not have any handy, use canned broth or even water—the soup will still be quite good. When using canned stock for this soup, I always dilute it by half with water. In most cases, the flavor of canned broth is too pronounced when taken straight and masks the fresh vegetal flavor of the other ingredients.

Capon soup is an Italian holiday tradition, but I like to use at least a little capon every time I make stock. I buy a capon, cut it in pieces, and freeze the pieces separately. When I make chicken stock, I add a piece or two of the frozen capon. I also add some turkey wings when I make chicken stock—I think it adds richness of flavor. The tomato (or paste) adds a little color and balances the sweetness of the carrot.

In Tuscany, cannellini beans would be paired with tuna for a similar dish. I don’t see why black-eyed peas or kidney beans couldn’t be used as well. Just make sure the beans are tender—almost to the point of breaking—so that they absorb the tuna flavor and stay put on the toasted bread, if that’s how youchoose to serve them. Don’t be afraid to crush them lightly!

I like this and other seafood salads served at room temperature as soon as they are made, but most people like this dish chilled. If you are one of them, refrigerate it just long enough to chill it, a half-hour or so. Longer will dull the fresh flavors of the salad. Toss well and check the seasonings just before you serve it.

This classic and delectable pasta dish originated in the region of Abruzzi, in the little town of Amatrice, northeast of Rome, where it was traditionally prepared without tomatoes. But it is the Roman version of pasta all’amatriciana, with tomatoes, that I share with you here—the version that is best known and deservedly popular. Lots of onions; chips of guanciale (cured pork cheek, now available in the United States, see Sources, page 340), pancetta, or bacon; and San Marzano tomatoes are the essential elements of the sauce, Roma style. Note that the onions are first softened in water, before olive oil is added to the pan—a traditional but unusual step that is said to make the onions sweeter. The standard pasta used is bucatini or perciatelli (spaghetti are only tolerated). The long, dry strands of perciatelli resemble very thick spaghetti but are hollow like a drinking straw. When cooked, they are wild and wiggly, so you might be tempted to cut them. Do not—once you’ve got them on your fork, they’re delicious and fun to eat. It is quite all right to slurp them. Indeed, as kids we would suck them in so fast that the end of the noodle would whip us in the nose, splattering sauce all over our faces. What a wonderful memory!