Rick Cook Quotes

Programming today is a race between software engineers striving to build bigger and better idiot-proof programs, and the Universe trying to produce bigger and better idiots. So far, the Universe is winning.

They want to cook you and eat you," she said distatefully, "which is ridiculous. You'd taste terrible." "Thank you, grandmother.

watching a satyr cook Eggo blueberry waffles on a stick over an open fire.

Leading people is like cooking Don’t stir too much
It annoys the ingredients
And spoils the food

I think it may be fine to live in the past if that is where your people have all disappeared to - if that is a place where things still make some kind of sense to you.

Moira nodded vigorously. She didn't know what BASIC or COBOL were, except that Wiz said they caused brain damage in those who used them.

The past is where we go when we are helpless; the past, no matter what the psychiatrists say, can’t really hurt you much more than it already has, not like the future, which comes at you like a train around a blind curve.

If you asked most kids, “Hey, you want to summon fire or lightning or magical makeup?” they’d think it sounded pretty cool. But those powers went along with hard stuff, like sitting in a sewer in the middle of winter, running from monsters, losing your memory, watching your friends almost get cooked, and having dreams that warned you of your own death.

Jerry thought about what a letter of recommendation from a council of wizards would look like in his resume file. "Totally secret," he said firmly.

How to make twenty freshmen hyperactive: 1. Give them access to an espresso machine. 2. Offer them a safe haven after seventy-two hours of running from death. 3. Feed them a home-cooked meal made by an orangutan. 4. Tell them that tomorrow, they will get to see a make-believe submarine from the 1800s that is actually not make-believe.

IT’S SO WEIRD HOW A PERSON can be a normal part of your everyday life, and then just disappear. And when they do, you realize that some of those everyday things go with them. Like the smell of food cooking. Or the sound of Rick James, Frankie Beverly, or the Isley Brothers playing as background music in our house. The kettle, whistling. Water running in the kitchen sink. She was always at the kitchen sink, my mom, doing a two-step or something. Her voice, and her voices.

Taste this." Rick held out a wooden spoon smothered in sauce, cradling the underside with his free hand. "That's heaven." Laney licked the spoon clean. "When I die, bury me in a vat of that." She kissed Rick on the lips and heaved the groceries onto the counter. "I feel like I'll be too sad to cook that much, what with you dead and all." He turned back to the pot, stirring the sauce as gently as he'd handle a newborn baby. "Though if we have a little advance warning, I could stockpile it in the freezer." "Absolutely. I'll do what I can to die a slow death." Laney smirked. "All in the name of the sauce, of course.

She can tell if her cornbread is done, and all the rest, by their aromas alone—that, or the angels mumble it straight into her ear. It’s not the clock that tells you when it’s done; the food does.

Hazel squinted. “How far?” “Just over the river and through the woods.” Percy raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? To Grandmother’s house we go?” Frank cleared his throat. “Yeah, anyway.” Hazel clasped her hands in prayer. “Frank, please tell me she’ll let us spend the night. I know we’re on a deadline, but we’ve got to rest, right? And Arion saved us some time. Maybe we could get an actual cooked meal?” “And a hot shower?” Percy pleaded. “And a bed with, like, sheets and a pillow?” Frank tried to imagine Grandmother’s face if he showed up with two heavily armed friends and a harpy. Everything had changed since his mother’s funeral, since the morning the wolves had taken him south. He’d been so angry about leaving. Now, he couldn’t imagine going back. Still, he and his friends were exhausted. They’d been traveling for more than two days without decent food or sleep. Grandmother could give them supplies. And maybe she could answer some questions that were brewing in the back of Frank’s mind—a growing suspicion about his family gift. “It’s worth a try,” Frank decided. “To Grandmother’s house we go.” Frank was so distracted, he would have walked right into the ogres’ camp. Fortunately Percy pulled him back.

Peanut butter, or turkey?” “Turkey. Soft on the mayo, extra mustard.” Rick lifted an eyebrow at her. “Do I look like a cook?” “You do until Vilseau comes back. Because anything beyond microwave pizza is your territory, sweetheart.” With a grin he began slathering mustard on one of the slices of bread. “Wonderful. So now I have to negotiate a multimillion-dollar deal and cook? Do you want tomatoes?” “Hell, yes, my darlin’.” “Ahem. Innocent bystander trying not to barf over here.” Stoney waved a hand at them from the doorway. “What’s the gig?” “Food first. Do you want Rick to make you a sandwich?” “Hey,” Rick protested.

Ten miles to the southeast the war went on, badly, for Drake and his men. With nearly a thousand troops already dug in on Djebel Ksaira, Drake decided to herd the rest of his command—now bivouacked in various wadis southeast of Sidi bou Zid—onto Garet Hadid, a slightly loftier escarpment four miles west of Ksaira. Soon 950 riflemen, musicians, cooks, and clerks were perched on the barren rock like nesting birds. Nearly one-third lacked weapons. After watching the artillery flee near Djebel Lessouda, Drake had called McQuillin at eight A.M. on a field phone to report the makings of a rout. When Old Mac disputed his characterization, Drake snapped, “I know what I’m talking about. I know panic when I see it.” McQuillin hesitated, then told Drake: “You are on the spot. Take command and stop it.” The

Troops caught nibbling their emergency D- ration chocolate bars were dubbed Chocolate Soldiers and punished by forfeiting two meals. This was a happy penance. The galleys served so much fatty mutton that derisive bleating could be heard throughout the convoy and the 13th Armored Regiment proposed a new battle cry: 'Baaa!' Crunchy raisins in the bread proved to be weevils; soldiers learned to hold up slices to the light, as if candling eggs. The 1st Infantry Division on Reine de Pacifico organized troop details to sift flour through mesh screens in a search for insects. Wormy meat aboard the Keren so provoked 34th Division soldiers that officers were dispatched to keep order in the mess hall. When soldiers aboard Letitia challenged the culinary honor of one French cook, he 'became quite wild and threatened to jump overboard.

In the Mountains, they cooked, too. Joe Godwin made liquor in Muscadine. Moe Shealey made it in Mineral Springs. Junior McMahan had a still in ragland. Fred and Alton Dryden made liquor in Tallapoosa, and Eulis Parker made it on Terrapin Creek. Wayne Glass knew their faces because he drove it, and made more money hauling liquor than he ever made at the cotton mill. He loaded the gallon cans into his car in the deep woods and dodged sheriffs and federal men to get it to men like Robert Kilgore, the bootlegger who sold whiskey from a house in Weaver, about ten minutes south of Jacksonville. "I could haul a hundred and fifty gallons in a Flathead Ford, at thirty-five dollars a load," he said. Wayne lost the end of one finger in the mill, but he was bulletproof when he was running liquor, and only did time once, for conspiracy. "They couldn't catch me haulin' liquor," he said, "so they got me for thinkin' about it.

I cooked with so many of the greats: Tom Colicchio, Eric Ripert, Wylie Dufresne, Grant Achatz. Rick Bayless taught me not one but two amazing mole sauces, the whole time bemoaning that he never seemed to know what to cook for his teenage daughter. Jose Andres made me a classic Spanish tortilla, shocking me with the sheer volume of viridian olive oil he put into that simple dish of potatoes, onions, and eggs. Graham Elliot Bowles and I made gourmet Jell-O shots together, and ate leftover cheddar risotto with Cheez-Its crumbled on top right out of the pan. Lucky for me, Maria still includes me in special evenings like this, usually giving me the option of joining the guests at table, or helping in the kitchen. I always choose the kitchen, because passing up the opportunity to see these chefs in action is something only an idiot would do. Susan Spicer flew up from New Orleans shortly after the BP oil spill to do an extraordinary menu of all Gulf seafood for a ten-thousand-dollar-a-plate fund-raising dinner Maria hosted to help the families of Gulf fishermen. Local geniuses Gil Langlois and Top Chef winner Stephanie Izard joined forces with Gale Gand for a seven-course dinner none of us will ever forget, due in no small part to Gil's hoisin oxtail with smoked Gouda mac 'n' cheese, Stephanie's roasted cauliflower with pine nuts and light-as-air chickpea fritters, and Gale's honey panna cotta with rhubarb compote and insane little chocolate cookies. Stephanie and I bonded over hair products, since we have the same thick brown curls with a tendency to frizz, and the general dumbness of boys, and ended up giggling over glasses of bourbon till nearly two in the morning. She is even more awesome, funny, sweet, and genuine in person than she was on her rock-star winning season on Bravo. Plus, her food is spectacular all day. I sort of wish she would go into food television and steal me from Patrick. Allen Sternweiler did a game menu with all local proteins he had hunted himself, including a pheasant breast over caramelized brussels sprouts and mushrooms that melted in your mouth (despite the occasional bit of buckshot). Michelle Bernstein came up from Miami and taught me her white gazpacho, which I have since made a gajillion times, as it is probably one of the world's perfect foods.

I want you to cook more. It's good for you. You know exactly what you're nourishing yourself with (which for me almost always includes a healthy dose of fresh vegetables). It allows you to feel the natural rhythms of life in a way that microwaved frozen dinners never can. And cooking often draws people to the table, encouraging dialogue and providing a moment to appreciate the good (and truly tasty) things in life. I know: if I want you to cook more, I need to make it easy for you. And to my way of thinking, that means I need to help you with three things: First I need to help wean you from a slavish dependency on recipes - I need to hand you a few go-to recipes that are easily varied depending on what you have on hand, and teach you to look at other recipes with an eye to how they can be varied to suit your own tastes and kitchen. Second, I need to help you know what ingredients and basic preparations to have on hand so that a good meal is never more than a few minutes away. And third, I need to help you know which kitchen equipment will enable you to create delicious food fast (and, of course, I need to guide you in how to use it to its best advantage). I can do all that.

A brick could be used to cook with, as a thickening agent in gravy. But as history proves, the thickest agents work for the government as tax collectors. 


peoples that made up the Meso-American empires had orchards full of avocados, coconuts, papayas, pineapples, prickly pears and a long list of others whose names don’t ring familiar in our ears. Their farms grew the father of our red tomato and a little green husk “tomato”; there were chiles, manioc, sweet potatoes, four kinds of squash, peanuts and at least five major strains of beans. Epazote was the herb of preference (as it is today), and there were huge quantities of amaranth and chia seeds to make into

By a decade after the 1521 fall of Tenochtitlán, the Mexican natives had already adopted a new set of flavors into their existing large assortment. There seemed to be an “absence of strong cultural resistance to the introduction and use of foreign plants,” as one researcher found recently when he tried to discover what had become of so many of those pre-Columbian crops in modern Mexico.11

Let’s try it again,” Merve said as he tugged on the corpse. He pulled and rocked but she didn’t budge. “Okay, hand me the shovel,” he said. Ellen kept her flashlight trained on Merve, and with the shovel under the torso, he rocked her loose from the floor and she rolled over onto the body bag. When the deceased turned, body fluid shot up into the air like a fountain from the abdomen as an odor of feces and smoked burnt flesh filled the air. The face, nose and eyes were burned away and a bright red cooked tongue protruded out of the front teeth. A collective gasp came from the group. The ligature was still intact, and photographed. And Ellen’s flashlight beam suddenly disappeared. Ellen ran for the doorway. She almost made it, too. She projectile vomited before she hit the safety railing and her flashlight fell from her grasp and tumbled down to the courtyard below. “Holy cow!” exclaimed Officer Chimenti as he grabbed a hold of the detective’s left arm to steady her. “Are you all right, Ellen?” “I’ll be fine,” she replied while holding the railing and gasping for air. “Just give me a moment.” “Ellen?” “Not now, Richie.” Richie patted Ellen on her back softly while she continued to spit over the railing. He then leaned over close and whispered into her ear, “The lady standing behind you is Terri Dillon. She’s here to walk the dead dog. Its name was Buddy.” “Fuck me,” Ellen whispered back while continuing to spit. “Richie, please get her info and ask her to wait down in the lobby. Someone will be with her very soon.

On November 4, while the votes were still being counted, Rick Perry, Trump’s former secretary of energy, wrote Meadows about his “AGRESSIVE STRATEGY.” “Why can’t the states of GA NC PENN and other R controlled state houses declare this is BS […] and just send their own electors to vote,” Perry mused. Perry sent the message to a group chat that included Meadows and two people who were still part of Trump’s cabinet at the time: Secretary of Housing and Urban Development Ben Carson and Secretary of Agriculture George Ervin “Sonny” Perdue III. “Interesting,” Carson wrote. Alternate electors were a central element of various plots to overturn Trump’s loss that were cooked up by his allies in the weeks after the election. There were basically five states that mattered in the 2020 presidential race: Arizona, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Georgia, and Wisconsin. The rest of the results were predictable. It was all coming down to the margin in those swing states. Of course, presidential elections aren’t technically decided in the states. They

You remind me of Iris,” I said. “She went organic vegan several decades ago.” Rhea made a face—just a ripple of disapproval before regaining her karmic balance. “Iris is a good soul. I dig her. But you know, these younger goddesses, they weren’t around to fight the revolution. They don’t get what it was like when your old man was eating your children and you couldn’t get a real job and the Titan chauvinists just wanted you to stay home and cook and clean and have more Olympian babies.

Hecuba decided to attack a Lil Zeus Greek food cart, but I managed to pull her off before she killed the cook or devoured his meat supply. Dude wasn’t too happy. He yelled something in Greek at me—maybe Please control your rhinoceros—but I couldn’t be too mad at Hecuba. For one thing, the food smelled good. For another, anything labeled Zeus sent me into attack mode, too.

It's the holidays—relax your mind and let your conscious be free. Like Rick James says, “It's a celebration, bitches!

The Daniel Plan is a way of life, or as some have called it, a health-style that takes the guessing out of eating and cooking.

You're not dealing with people," Jerry told him. "These are programmers, boy. Programmers!

Basically, Sam Phillips recorded Bill Haley, Johnny Cash, and all those other Memphis guys; Chuck Berry played the top two strings; Elvis appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show above the waist; the Beatles made all the girls squirm by singing about wanting to hold their “hands”; Ray Davies got lost in a sunset; Pete Townshend smashed his guitar; Brian Wilson heard magic in his head and made it come out of a studio; the Rolling Stones urinated on a garage door; and then (skipping a bit) you’ve got Joey Levine and Chapman-Chinn and Mott the Hoople and Iggy and the Runaways and KISS and the Pink Fairies and Rick Nielsen and Jonathan Richman and Johnny Ramone and Lemmy and the Young brothers and Cook and Jones and Pete Shelley and Feargal Sharkey and Rob Halford … and Foghat. You get what I’m saying. It didn’t happen in a vacuum, but it did happen, and now here we are in the aftermath.

I have a treasured set of matched grain crosscut horns made for me by master American carver Jim Cooke, cut yin-yang from the same block of briar he waited five years to find.

I don’t suppose any of you can fly?” They shook their heads. “I can cook,” Cecil offered.

Cook didn’t let his romanticism interfere with negotiations. Before accepting the job, he insisted that Apple commit to paying him the salary and options he was forgoing at Compaq. The total was more than $1 million, greater than anything Apple had offered an executive to that point. Jobs exploded when he heard the demand. “There’s no way Apple can do this!” he screamed at executive recruiter Rick Devine, who had found Cook. “What are you thinking? Do you understand math?

Basically, women couldn’t do anything except stay home, cook food, clean house, and look pretty—preferably all at the same time. Now, me—being an awesome modern demigod dude—I can do all that easily. But not everybody can pull it off. (My girlfriend, Annabeth, is reading this over my shoulder and laughing. Why are you laughing?)

Our hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before we knew it, she’d brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries.

could just make out a tiny hill, with the ant-size figure of Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder to the top. And I saw worse tortures, too—things I don’t want to describe. The line coming from the right side of the judgment pavilion was much better. This one led down toward a small valley surrounded by walls—a gated community, which seemed to be the only happy part of the Underworld. Beyond the security gate were neighborhoods of beautiful houses from every time period in history, Roman villas and medieval castles and Victorian mansions. Silver and gold flowers bloomed on the lawns. The grass rippled in rainbow colors. I could hear laughter and smell barbecue cooking. Elysium. In the middle of that valley was a glittering blue lake, with three small islands like a vacation resort in the Bahamas. The Isles of the Blest, for people who had chosen to

Babka has roots in the cooking of Russia and Poland and, along with some ugly architecture, is one of the few remnants of the Russian years in Prague.

Darling, when you get going, you're the wickedest witch what ever was

your poor taste ≠ my cooking is bad.

We are cooking together again, and he asked me to pick up some salad greens and a loaf of something "Italian-ish," so my tote bag is brimming with bunches of peppery arugula and tender lamb's lettuce and a half loaf of Rick's pane pugliese, a crusty Italian peasant bread with a delicate, open crumb and slightly sour, caramel flavor. For dessert, I decided to buy half of one of Rick's rhubarb crumble tarts---vanilla custard encased in a tender shortbread crust and topped with roasted chunks of ruby rhubarb and a buttery oatmeal crumble

Some carried clubs or spears. A few confused ogres carried surfboards, like they’d shown up at the wrong party. All of them were in a festive mood—giving each other high fives, tying plastic bibs around their necks, breaking out the knives and forks. One ogre had fired up a portable barbecue and was dancing in an apron that said KISS THE COOK.

in the days before refrigeration, salt had to be added to butter as a preservative. Salted butter is for spreading; unsalted is for cooking, as it allows for better control of the salt in the recipe.

People, she believed, were for the large part leaping dumbasses.

The past is where we go when we are helpless; the past, no matter what the psychiatrists say, can't really hurt you much more than it already has, not like the future, which comes at you like a train around a blind curve.

boils.” Terrin didn’t jump at the interruption of his thoughts, but only because he’d come to expect it. The voice was perky and upbeat and annoying as all hell. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathered his patience and turned to face Petty Officer Third Class Francesca Hayden, apparently the most cheerful and effervescent computer technician in the whole Spartan Navy. Even when she was standing still, she gave the impression of constantly bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Pardon?” he said, the actual content of her words lost in his irritation. “It’s just a saying my great grandmother used to tell me,” she clarified, still grinning brightly, her teeth almost painfully white in the glare of the temporary lighting they’d set up in the auxiliary control center down on the third level of the Terminus facility. There’d been too much damage to the primary control center from the fight with Starkad, and this one had come with actual, physical input terminals instead of haptic holograms. “If you watch a pot of water on the stove, it seems like it takes forever to boil, you know.” “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the occasion to boil water on a stove,” he admitted. He winced, realizing it made him sound like a privileged douchebag, and he amended the statement. “I mean, in college, I made my own meals sometimes, and in the lab at the university, but those were all just ready-made heat-n-eat bowls.” He shrugged, trailing off. Why did she always have this effect on him? She was no different than any other tech. Okay, maybe she was cute, if you were into the whole pixie look, with her bobbed brown hair and upturned nose and the impish grin. She certainly did nice things to a set of blue Navy utility fatigues but that could have been the effect of months away from civilians. He glanced around the control room to see if any of the other technicians had noticed his embarrassment, but the only two he could see looked to be absorbed in their work. “I love a home-cooked meal,” she went on as if he hadn’t

just cook better than anybody else. A Cajun knows he’s got it right when, after it’s done, you can throw away the meat and just eat the gravy.

The fastest way to a man's heart is through his vagina. A lot of people say it's the stomach. That's the saying, but that's fucking stupid. Men like to eat, sure. But do all men place that much importance on their next meal? You can cook a mean meatloaf and so you've fucking got them wrapped around your little fucking finger? No goddamn way. Men love to fuck. All men. Every goddamn one of them. Young, old, fat, thin, smart, dumb, alive, dead, all men. After a while, a certain kind of man, men like Rick Grimes, they find one vagina they really enjoy being inside. That becomes their vagina. You fuck with that vagina, you can crush a man's heart.

We have become food consumers, not food producers or makers. We have outsourced our cooking to corporations.

pork shank hash with fingerling potatoes and fried egg stinco di maiale con patate e uova fritte ½ pound fingerling potatoes ¼ cup olive oil Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 large red bell pepper, julienned 2 yellow onions, diced ¾ pound Braised Pork Shank, shredded (recipe follows) ½ cup braising liquid from the pork (recipe follows) 4 large eggs 4 teaspoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1 Preheat the oven to 350°F. 2 Toss the potatoes with the olive oil and season to taste with salt and pepper. Spread the potatoes on a baking sheet and roast for about 25 minutes, or until tender. Let the potatoes cool to room temperature and then slice into ½-inch slices. Set aside. 3 In a large sauté pan, melt the butter over high heat. 4 Add the potatoes, bell pepper, and onions and sauté for about 5 minutes, or until the bell pepper softens and the potatoes begin to get crispy. 5 Add the pork shank and braising liquid to the pan, stir well, and cook just until heated through. Season to taste with salt and pepper. 6 Meanwhile, fry the eggs in a separate skillet, sunny side up. 7 Divide the hash evenly among 4 shallow bowls or plates and top each serving with 1 egg. Garnish with the chopped parsley and serve. Classic hash and eggs has long been an American diner staple and is one of my all-time favorites. Making hash is also a good way to use meat left over from Saturday-night dinner. I never get up in the morning and say “Let’s braise a shank for breakfast,” but if one is in the refrigerator or freezer, I go for it!  serves 4 braised pork shank makes about ¾ pound meat 2 pounds pork shank (2 shanks) Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper ½ onion, cut into large dice 1 small carrot, cut into thick rounds ½ celery rib, cut into large dice 2 tablespoons white wine 1 teaspoon olive oil 1 small garlic clove, smashed 2 black peppercorns 1 teaspoon chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1 sprig fresh thyme ½ fresh bay leaf 2 cups chicken stock 2 cups veal stock or chicken stock (see Note) 1 Preheat the oven to 300°F. Put an empty roasting

blood orange crêpes with vanilla mascarpone crepes d’arancio sanguigno crêpes 1 cup all-purpose flour ¾ teaspoon sugar About 1 teaspoon kosher salt 3 large eggs ¾ cup milk 4 teaspoons unsalted butter to serve 32 sections blood oranges (about 6) 4 tablespoons Vanilla Mascarpone (Chapter 1) 1 cup Blood Orange Sauce (Chapter 1) 1 To prepare the crêpe batter, mix the flour, sugar, and salt in a large bowl. 2 In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs and milk. Pour into the bowl with the flour and whisk just until combined. Do not overmix the batter. Set aside for at least 1 hour at room temperature and up to 48 hours in the refrigerator. Let the batter return to room temperature before cooking the crêpes. 3 To prepare the crêpes, heat an 8-inch nonstick skillet or crêpe pan over medium heat and melt ½ teaspoon of butter in it. When it melts, ladle 6 tablespoons (about 2/3 cup) of the batter into the pan. Swirl and tip the pan so that the batter spreads in a thin layer over the bottom of the pan and about half an inch up the sides. If there seems to be an excess of batter, pour it back into the bowl. As it cooks, the crêpe will form bubbles and start to set around the edges. 4 Use a thin spatula to loosen the crêpe and when the bubbles pop, lift the crêpe at the edges to see if the underside is nicely browned. If so, flip the crêpe and cook for about 30 seconds longer, or just until set but before it crisps too much around the edges. Adjust the heat as necessary. 5 Remove the crêpe from the pan and set aside on a plate covered with a clean, dry kitchen towel. Repeat until you have 8 crêpes. 6 To serve, spread about 1 teaspoon of the Vanilla Mascarpone over each crêpe. Fold 2 crepes in half and then in half again to form triangles. Put them on a serving plate. Garnish each plate with 8 orange segments, 1 tablespoon of the Vanilla Mascarpone, and ¼ cup or less, depending on your taste, of the Blood Orange Sauce. Repeat for a total of 4 servings. I am intensely fond of the combination of mascarpone, vanilla, and oranges and go a little crazy when I can make this with blood oranges. Available from late December through mid-March or thereabouts, the oranges with their distinctive crimson flesh are sweeter than other oranges and taste a little bit of berries. Blood oranges are originally from Sicily; today they are easy to find in Italy and Spain and, I am happy to say, increasingly

braised pork shanks with borlotti beans stinco di maiale brasato con fagioli borlotti beans ½ pound dried borlotti (cranberry) beans 1 whole garlic head, cloves separated 1 cup extra virgin olive oil 1 Onion Brûlée (recipe follows) 1 carrot, peeled and diced 1 celery rib, diced 4 ounces bacon, cut into large dice 5 fresh flat-leaf parsley stems 3 sprigs fresh thyme 2 sprigs fresh rosemary Pinch of crushed red pepper flakes 1½ quarts chicken stock 1 tablespoon kosher salt 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar brine 1 pound kosher salt 1 cup honey 1 sprig fresh rosemary 5 juniper berries pork Four 1-pound pork hindshanks ½ cup vegetable oil 1 carrot, peeled and cut into large dice 1 celery rib, cut into large dice 2 cups dry white wine ½ cup Stewed Tomatoes (Chapter 3) 1 quart veal stock or chicken stock to serve 1 tablespoon unsalted butter 2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1 To prepare the beans, in a large pot, soak the beans in enough cold water to cover by 2 or 3 inches for 6 to 12 hours. Change the water two or three times during soaking, if possible. Drain and set aside. 2 Use a broad knife to crush the garlic cloves, still in their skins. 3 Heat a saucepan over medium heat. Add the olive oil, onion, carrot, celery, bacon, parsley, thyme, rosemary, red pepper, and half of the garlic cloves to the pan and cook, stirring, for about 7 minutes, or until the vegetables soften. 4 Add the drained beans and the stock and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat and simmer for about 40 minutes, until the beans are tender but not so soft that they lose their shape. 5 Add the salt and vinegar. Stir to mix, remove the beans from the heat. Taste the cooking liquid and season to taste with salt. Let the beans cool in the cooking liquid and then refrigerate until ready to use. 6 To prepare the brine, in a large pot, mix 1 gallon of water with the salt, honey, rosemary, and juniper berries. Bring to a boil over high heat and cook until the salt and honey dissolve. Remove from the heat and let the brine cool to room temperature. 7 To prepare the pork, submerge the pork shanks in the cool brine, cover, and refrigerate for 3 hours. 8 Preheat the oven to 300°F. 9 Lift the shanks from the brine and pat dry. 10 Heat a large ovenproof casserole or braising pan over medium-high heat. When the pan is hot, put the vegetable oil in the pan and sear the pork shanks for 6 to 8 minutes on each side, or until golden brown. 11 Add the carrot, celery, and wine and the remaining garlic cloves and bring to a boil. Cook over medium-high heat for 8 to 10 minutes, or until reduced by half. Add the tomatoes and stock and bring to a boil.

red wine–braised short ribs with garlic mashed potatoes costatine con purè di patate Four 12-to 14-ounce boneless beef short ribs Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 1 cup vegetable oil 2 carrots, cut into large dice 2 celery ribs, cut into large dice 1 yellow onion, cut into large dice 2 tablespoons tomato paste One 750-ml bottle dry red wine 2 cups port 3 sprigs fresh thyme 1 sprig fresh rosemary 1 bay leaf 2 quarts veal stock or chicken stock 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar 2½ cups Garlic Mashed Potatoes (Chapter 8) 2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1 Lay the short ribs in a single layer in a shallow baking pan and season generously on both sides with salt. Cover and refrigerate for 2 hours. 2 Preheat the oven to 375°F. 3 Rinse the salt off the ribs and pat them dry with paper towels. Season the ribs with pepper and a light sprinkling of salt. 4 Heat a casserole or braising pan over high heat. When the pan is hot, put the oil in the pan. When the oil is hot, sear the short ribs on both sides until golden brown. Lift the short ribs from the pan and set aside. If the oil is dark, discard it and replace with fresh oil. 5 Reduce the heat to medium-high and add the carrots, celery, and onion to the pan. Cook, stirring, for about 8 minutes, or until the vegetables brown and caramelize. 6 Stir in the tomato paste. Reduce the heat to medium and cook for 2 to 3 minutes. Add the wine and port, raise the heat to medium-high, and cook for about 5 minutes, or until the liquid reduces by half. 7 Return the short ribs to the pan and add the thyme, rosemary, and bay leaf. Pour the stock into the pan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Lay a sheet of parchment paper directly on the food and transfer the pan to the oven. Cook for about 2 hours, until the meat is fork tender. 8 Remove the pan from the oven and discard the parchment paper. Add the vinegar. Let the short ribs come to room temperature in the braising liquid. 9 Lift the short ribs from the liquid and set aside on a large plate or bowl, covered, to keep warm. 10 Strain the braising liquid through a fine-mesh sieve or chinois into a saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat, reduce the heat to low, and cook for about 15 minutes, or until reduced by a quarter. Using a skimmer or large spoon, skim off any fat that rises to the surface. Season to taste with salt and pepper and pour the sauce over the ribs. 11 Serve immediately or allow to cool to room temperature and then cover and refrigerate for up to 5 days. (If you are serving immediately and the ribs and sauce are not hot enough, reheat gently over medium-low heat for about 10 minutes.)

fish fumet makes about 3 quarts 2 pounds cod bones or other nonoily fish bones 1 cup dry white wine ½ onion, chopped ½ fennel bulb, chopped 10 fresh flat-leaf parsley stems 2 sprigs fresh thyme 1 bay leaf 1 Chop the cod bones into manageably sized pieces and rinse with cool running water. Transfer to a bowl and add enough cold water to cover. Refrigerate for at least 6 hours or overnight. 2 Preheat the oven to 350°F. 3 Drain the bones and pat them dry. Spread them on a baking sheet and roast for about 20 minutes, or until they are cooked through but have not colored. There will be no fish remaining on them and the bones will be white. 4 Transfer the bones to a saucepan and add the wine, onion, fennel, parsley stems, thyme, and bay leaf. Add 1 gallon of water and bring to a simmer. Simmer for 30 minutes, remove from the heat, and set aside to stand for 10 minutes. Strain and use immediately or cover and refrigerate. The fumet will keep in the refrigerator for up to 7 days. It also will keep in the freezer for up to 1 month. mackerel escabeche with new potatoes sgombro escabeche con patate marinade and vegetables 1¼ cups cider vinegar 1¼ cups dry white wine 3 tablespoons sugar 1 tablespoon kosher salt 4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced 4 shallots, thinly sliced 2 celery ribs, cut on the diagonal into ¼-inch pieces 1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced 1 carrot, thinly sliced ½ fennel bulb, very thinly sliced ½ cup chopped green Cerignola olives or other green olives 8 saffron threads 1 sprig fresh thyme 1 bay leaf 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper potatoes 1 pound new potatoes 1 bay leaf ¾ cup crème fraîche 2 tablespoons snipped fresh chives Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper mackerel ¾ cup extra virgin olive oil Four 6-ounce skin-on mackerel fillets to serve 2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1 To prepare the marinade, bring the vinegar, wine, sugar, and ¾ cup water to a boil in a pot over high heat. Add the salt and bring the liquid to a boil. Cook at a rapid boil for about 5 minutes, or until reduced by a quarter. 2 Remove the pot from the heat and add the garlic, shallots, celery, bell pepper, carrot, fennel, olives, saffron, thyme, bay leaf, and black pepper to the liquid. Let the marinade cool to room temperature, and then let it stand for 4 hours at room temperature. 3 To prepare the mackerel, heat a sauté pan over medium-high heat. When the pan is hot, put ½ cup of olive oil in the pan. 4 When the oil is hot, sear the mackerel, skin side down, for 2 minutes. Turn the fish and cook for 1 or 2 minutes longer, or until cooked through.

pappardelle with meat ragù pappardelle con rag`u di carne ragù 1 ounce dried porcini mushrooms (about 1 cup) ¾ cup dry white wine 1 pound pork butt 1 pound beef chuck 3 tablespoons olive oil 1 pound ground hot Italian sausage 2 cups diced Spanish onions (about 3 onions) 3 to 4 garlic cloves, minced Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 2 cups drained canned plum tomatoes, crushed About 8 cups Pomodoro Sauce (Chapter 1) 1 quart veal stock or chicken stock 1 quart chicken stock 1 teaspoon finely ground fennel seeds 1 bay leaf Pinch of dried oregano ¾ cup chopped fresh basil pappardelle 1 pound dried pappardelle assembly 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 2 tablespoons olive oil Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper ¼ cup chopped fresh basil 1 ounce Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, shaved 1 To prepare the ragù, soak the porcini mushrooms in the white wine in a nonreactive glass or ceramic bowl for 30 minutes. Lift the mushrooms from the wine and then strain the wine through a fine-mesh sieve or chinois. Roughly chop the hydrated mushrooms. 2 Trim the excess fat from the pork and beef and cut the meat into ½-inch cubes. 3 In a large saucepan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. When the olive oil is hot, cook the sausage, breaking it into chunks as you do, for 6 to 8 minutes, or until nicely browned. Using a slotted spoon, lift the sausage from the pan and set aside. Leave the fat in the pan. Add the beef and pork to the pan and cook, turning, for about 5 minutes, or until well browned. Lift the beef and pork from the pan and add to the sausage. 4 Add the onions to the pan and cook for about 5 minutes, or until lightly browned. Add the garlic and strained wine. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and cook for about 4 minutes, or until reduced by half. 5 Return the meat to the pan and season to taste with salt and pepper. Stir in the mushrooms, tomatoes, Pomodoro Sauce, stocks, fennel seeds, bay leaf, and oregano. Bring to a simmer over medium heat and then reduce the heat so that the mixture simmers gently, uncovered. 6 Cook at a gentle simmer, frequently skimming off any fat that rises to the top, for 3 hours, until the meat is very tender. Stir in

pork shank hash with fingerling potatoes and fried egg stinco di maiale con patate e uova fritte ½ pound fingerling potatoes ¼ cup olive oil Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 large red bell pepper, julienned 2 yellow onions, diced ¾ pound Braised Pork Shank, shredded (recipe follows) ½ cup braising liquid from the pork (recipe follows) 4 large eggs 4 teaspoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1 Preheat the oven to 350°F. 2 Toss the potatoes with the olive oil and season to taste with salt and pepper. Spread the potatoes on a baking sheet and roast for about 25 minutes, or until tender. Let the potatoes cool to room temperature and then slice into ½-inch slices. Set aside. 3 In a large sauté pan, melt the butter over high heat. 4 Add the potatoes, bell pepper, and onions and sauté for about 5 minutes, or until the bell pepper softens and the potatoes begin to get crispy. 5 Add the pork shank and braising liquid to the pan, stir well, and cook just until heated through. Season to taste with salt and pepper. 6 Meanwhile, fry the eggs in a separate skillet, sunny side up. 7 Divide the hash evenly among 4 shallow bowls or plates and top each serving with 1 egg. Garnish with the chopped parsley and serve. Classic hash and eggs has long been an American diner staple and is one of my all-time favorites. Making hash is also a good way to use meat left over from Saturday-night dinner. I never get up in the morning and say “Let’s braise a shank for breakfast,” but if one is in the refrigerator or freezer, I go for it!  serves 4 braised pork shank makes about ¾ pound meat 2 pounds pork shank (2 shanks) Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper ½ onion, cut into large dice 1 small carrot, cut into thick rounds ½ celery rib, cut into large dice 2 tablespoons white wine 1 teaspoon olive oil 1 small garlic clove, smashed 2 black peppercorns 1 teaspoon chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1 sprig fresh thyme ½ fresh bay leaf 2 cups chicken stock 2 cups veal stock or chicken stock (see Note)

roman-style omelet omelette romano ½ pound hot or sweet Italian sausage 12 large eggs Pinch of baking powder Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 4 tablespoons unsalted butter ¼ cup julienned roasted red bell pepper (see Note) 2 tablespoons fresh basil, washed, stems removed, julienned 2 ounces goat cheese, crumbled (about 2 tablespoons) 1 In a sauté pan, cook the sausage over medium-high heat until nicely browned and cooked through. Drain on paper towels until cool enough to handle, and then crumble the sausage meat. Set aside. 2 Crack the eggs into a mixing bowl, add the baking powder, and season to taste with salt and pepper. Using a wire whisk, beat until smooth and airy. 3 In a large nonstick sauté or 7-or 8-inch omelet pan, melt 1 tablespoon of butter over medium heat. Pour about a quarter of the eggs into the pan, sprinkle with a little more salt and pepper, and cook for 30 seconds, or until the bottom begins to set. 4 Gently flip the eggs and cook for about 30 seconds longer, or until the bottom sets but the eggs do not brown. 5 Sprinkle about a quarter of the bell pepper, a quarter of the basil, and a quarter of the cheese just off center on the omelet. Fold in half, cook for about 1 minute to soften the cheese and warm the bell pepper, and slide from the pan onto a plate and serve. Repeat to make 3 more omelets. I call this a Roman omelet because of its ingredients, particularly the fresh sausage. Every supermarket in the United States sells Italian sausage labeled “sweet” or “hot and spicy.” The choice is yours. When I think of the sausage I have eaten in Italy and especially in Rome, I think of the classic fennel-infused fresh pork sausage, which adds flavor that is just bold enough for this simple omelet whose flavor is further boosted with roasted peppers and basil. The goat cheese is the finishing touch.  serves 4 note To roast bell peppers, char them over a grill or gas flame or under a broiler until blackened on all sides and soft. Turn them as they char to ensure even blackening. Remove from the heat and transfer to a bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and set aside for about 20 minutes to steam as they cool. Lift the peppers from the bowl and rub or peel off the blackened skin. frittata with oven-dried cherry tomatoes and mozzarella frittata con pomodorini secchi e mozzarella 12 large eggs 1 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese ¼ cup whole milk Pinch of baking powder Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 32 Oven-Dried Cherry Tomato halves (recipe follows) 16 baby mozzarella balls, each about ½ ounce, halved

pork shank hash with fingerling potatoes and fried egg stinco di maiale con patate e uova fritte ½ pound fingerling potatoes ¼ cup olive oil Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 large red bell pepper, julienned 2 yellow onions, diced ¾ pound Braised Pork Shank, shredded (recipe follows) ½ cup braising liquid from the pork (recipe follows) 4 large eggs 4 teaspoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1 Preheat the oven to 350°F. 2 Toss the potatoes with the olive oil and season to taste with salt and pepper. Spread the potatoes on a baking sheet and roast for about 25 minutes, or until tender. Let the potatoes cool to room temperature and then slice into ½-inch slices. Set aside. 3 In a large sauté pan, melt the butter over high heat. 4 Add the potatoes, bell pepper, and onions and sauté for about 5 minutes, or until the bell pepper softens and the potatoes begin to get crispy. 5 Add the pork shank and braising liquid to the pan, stir well, and cook just until heated through. Season to taste with salt and pepper. 6 Meanwhile, fry the eggs in a separate skillet, sunny side up. 7 Divide the hash evenly among 4 shallow bowls or plates and top each serving with 1 egg. Garnish with the chopped parsley and serve. Classic hash and eggs has long been an American diner staple and is one of my all-time favorites. Making hash is also a good way to use meat left over from Saturday-night dinner. I never get up in the morning and say “Let’s braise a shank for breakfast,” but if one is in the refrigerator or freezer, I go for it!  serves 4 braised pork shank makes about ¾ pound meat 2 pounds pork shank (2 shanks) Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper ½ onion, cut into large dice 1 small carrot, cut into thick rounds ½ celery rib, cut into large dice 2 tablespoons white wine 1 teaspoon olive oil 1 small garlic clove, smashed 2 black peppercorns 1 teaspoon chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1

halibut steamed in parchment paper halibut al cartoccio Four 6-ounce pieces halibut Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 fennel bulb, very thinly sliced 4 shallots, very thinly sliced 1 garlic clove, very thinly sliced ½ cup extra virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling ¼ cup dry white wine 3 lemons, halved, plus more lemon juice for drizzling if needed 1 large or 2 medium tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and diced ¼ cup fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves ¼ cup celery leaves 2 tablespoons snipped fresh chives 2 tablespoons finely sliced fresh basil 1 teaspoon crushed coriander seeds 1 Preheat the oven to 400°F. 2 Cut 4 good-sized pieces of parchment paper or aluminum foil, each about 9 inches long, and shape into heart shapes by folding them in half and then, beginning at the bottom of the fold, cutting a half-heart shape, using most of the paper. When you open the folded paper, it should be in the shape of a heart and about 9 inches long. Lay the open hearts on the countertop. 3 Put a piece of halibut on one side of each heart and season to taste with salt and pepper. Put a tablespoon of butter on top of each piece of fish. Arrange the fennel, shallots, and garlic evenly over and around each piece of halibut. Drizzle 1 tablespoon of olive oil, 1 tablespoon of wine, and the juice of ½ lemon on each fish. 4 Fold the parchment over the fish and crimp any open sides by folding it back onto itself to seal the fish inside the packet. Transfer the packets to a baking sheet or shallow baking pan and bake for 12 minutes. 5 Meanwhile, toss the tomatoes with the parsley, celery leaves, chives, basil, and coriander seeds in a bowl. Season to taste and dress with the remaining ¼ cup of olive oil and the juice of 1 lemon. 6 Remove the baking sheet from the oven. Gently cut open each parchment package, taking care because the steam can be very hot, and set each portion on a serving plate. The fish can stay on the parchment or not. 7 Top each piece of fish with a quarter of the salad. Drizzle with more olive oil and lemon juice, if necessary. Delicate fish is often cooked in parchment in Italy, which allows it to steam gently in the paper. When you open the parchment, a dramatic whirl of hot, moist steam escapes—a true delight for the senses! For this recipe, I follow another Italian culinary custom and top the fish with dressed salad when I serve it. The hot fish brings out the flavors in the herbaceous salad.  serves 4

branzino in salt crust branzino in crosta di sale 1 whole 4-pound branzino, sea bass, striped bass, loup de mer, or red snapper, cleaned and scaled Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper ½ cup extra virgin olive oil ½ lemon, sliced ½ orange, sliced 3 sprigs fresh tarragon 3 sprigs fresh oregano 1 bay leaf 1 garlic clove, sliced 2 pounds kosher salt 1 tablespoon fennel seeds 1 tablespoon black peppercorns 8 large egg whites 1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon 1 tablespoon chopped fresh basil 1 tablespoon chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 4 lemon wedges or slices 1 Preheat the oven to 375°F. 2 With a pair of shears, cut out the gills of the fish, if necessary, and wash the inner cavity. Season the cavity to taste with salt and pepper and drizzle with about ¼ cup of olive oil. Put the lemon and orange slices, tarragon, oregano, bay leaf, and garlic in the cavity of the fish and gently press the two sides of the fish together. 3 In a large bowl, stir 2 pounds of kosher salt and the fennel seeds, peppercorns, and egg whites to a paste-like consistency. You might find it easiest to mix this with your hands. 4 Spread a ½-inch layer of the salt paste over a shallow baking pan, such as a jelly roll pan, large enough to hold the fish. Put the stuffed fish on top of the salt. 5 Pack the rest of the salt paste around and over the fish so that it is completely encased. 6 Bake the fish for 30 to 45 minutes, depending on the weight of the fish. A full 4-pound fish will require 40 minutes; a fish that weighs a little more than 4 pounds will need 45 minutes. Do not overcook. 7 Remove the pan from the oven and let the fish rest, still encased in the salt, for 5 to 8 minutes. Using a mallet or the handle of a heavy knife, crack the salt. If the fish is cooked through so that the flesh just flakes and is opaque, remove all the salt using a knife and spoon to lift it off. If the fish needs a little more cooking, rest the chunks of salt back on top of it and return it to the oven for 5 or 6 minutes, or until done. Let it rest again for about 5 minutes before removing all the salt. 8 Drizzle the fish with ¼ cup of olive oil and sprinkle with the chopped tarragon, basil, and parsley. Serve with a wedge or slice of lemon. This is one of my all-time favorite recipes—partly because I love the drama of cracking open the salt shell and exposing the fish, but mainly because it tastes so good. The salt case keeps the fish perfectly moist but does not make it especially salty. In fact, the fish is perfectly cooked and flavored. Cooking fish this way is a technique as old as ancient Rome, and for all its tableside drama it’s surprisingly easy. It’s important to begin with a 4-pound fish (or one slightly larger). I like this

tuna siciliana tonno siciliano 2 fennel bulbs 2 oranges, preferably organic ¼ cup extra virgin olive oil 1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 1¾ pounds tuna steak, cut into 4 even pieces 1 tablespoon ground fennel seeds 2 tablespoons Clarified Butter (Chapter 7) or vegetable oil 1 tablespoon sea salt 4 teaspoons aged balsamic vinegar 4 teaspoons Basil Oil (Chapter 7) 1 Preheat the oven to 375°F. 2 Trim the fronds from the fennel bulbs and then cut the bulbs into 8 equal segments. Cut each orange (unpeeled) into 8 sections. 3 In a mixing bowl, toss the fennel and orange with the olive oil and red pepper and season to taste with salt and pepper. 4 Spread the fennel in a shallow baking pan and roast for 20 minutes. Remove the pan from the oven and add the orange. Roast for about 5 minutes longer. Test the fennel for doneness by poking it with a small, sharp knife. When the fennel is done, the knife will meet with no resistance. Set aside the fennel and orange. 5 Season the tuna with fennel seeds, salt, and pepper. 6 Heat a sauté pan over high heat. When the pan is hot, put the clarified butter or oil in the pan. When the butter foams or the oil is smoking hot, sear the tuna on all sides or until rare. This should take 30 seconds on each side for perfectly rare tuna. Remove the tuna from the pan and slice each piece into quarters. 7 Put 4 pieces of roasted fennel and 4 pieces of roasted orange on each of 4 serving plates. Put 4 tuna slices in the center of each plate and season with sea salt. Drizzle the vinegar around the edge of each plate, followed by the Basil Oil. On a trip to Palermo, Sicily, I tasted a lot of fish dishes flavored with some of the traditional flavors of the island: fennel, orange, chiles, basil, and sea salt. When you make this dish, buy high-quality tuna, which can be bluefin, yellowfin, or bigeye tuna as long as it’s as fresh as can be. Cook it only long enough so that the center is still red or cooked to medium rare.

minestrone 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter ½ cup diced onion ½ cup diced carrot ½ cup diced celery 6 garlic cloves, chopped ½ cup potatoes, peeled and diced 2 cups tomato juice 1 quart chicken stock ½ pound dried tubetti pasta ½ cup diced zucchini ½ cup diced squash 1 cup cooked garbanzo beans (see Note) 1 cup cooked cannellini beans (see Note) 1 cup chopped fresh basil Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper About 6 tablespoons Basil Pesto (Chapter 2) 1 In a large saucepan, heat the butter over medium heat. When the butter is hot, add the onion, carrot, celery, and garlic and cook over medium heat for 7 to 10 minutes, or until softened but not colored. 2 Add the potatoes and cook, stirring, for about 5 minutes, or until they begin to soften. Add the tomato juice, raise the heat to medium-high, and bring to a brisk simmer. Cook for 5 to 7 minutes, or until the liquid reduces by a third. Add the stock, return to a simmer, and cook for about 30 minutes. 3 Meanwhile, cook the pasta in lightly salted boiling water for 6 to 8 minutes, or until barely al dente. The cooking time may vary according to the pasta. Drain. 4 Add the zucchini, the squash, and both kinds of beans and stir. Simmer for about 5 minutes, or until heated through. Add the drained pasta and let it heat in the soup for about 5 minutes. Stir in the basil and season to taste with salt and pepper. Remove from the heat, garnish with Basil Pesto, and serve. Minestrone is eaten all over Italy and, not surprisingly, varies from region to region. In Genoa it has cabbage and in Florence pork and chiles, but everywhere it has vegetables and usually pasta. My grandmother was from Naples and so my version is very close to hers. When I was a kid, my mom sometimes added leftover chicken to the vegetable soup for a main course.  serves 6 to 8 note To cook the beans, soak 8 ounces of each kind of bean in enough cold water to cover by about 1 inch for at least 6 hours or overnight. Change the water two or three times during soaking, if possible. Drain the beans and put them in a large pot. Cover with enough fresh water or chicken stock to cover the beans by 2 inches. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat to a simmer, and cook for 1 to 1½ hours, until the beans are softened but still hold their shape. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Do not overcook. Drain and set aside or cover and refrigerate for up to 24 hours.

meatballs makes about 20 meatballs 6 large eggs, beaten 5 pounds ground beef (I like to mix chuck and sirloin in an 80/20 mix) 4 to 6 garlic cloves, minced 1 pound freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese 4 cups seasoned dried bread crumbs (see Note) 2 cups chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1 tablespoon kosher salt 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, melted and cooled to room temperature 1 Preheat the oven to 350°F. 2 In a large mixing bowl, lightly mix the eggs, ground beef, and garlic, preferably with your hands. 3 In another mixing bowl, mix the cheese, bread crumbs, parsley, salt, and pepper. Add the cheese mixture to the meat mixture with the melted butter. Mix with your hands or a wooden spoon just until fully incorporated. Do not overmix. 4 Line a shallow baking pan with parchment paper. Roll the meat into large meatballs, about the size of a large scoop of ice cream, and put them on the pan. You should have about 20 meatballs. 5 Bake for about 15 minutes, or until cooked through. Use immediately or cover and refrigerate for up to 5 days. note You can use store-bought seasoned bread crumbs or make your own. We season dried bread crumbs with salt, black pepper, onion powder, dried oregano, and garlic powder. One good-sized slice of bread yields about ½ cup of crumbs.

green olive tapenade makes about 3 cups 2 roasted red bell peppers, peeled and finely diced (see Chapter 1) 1 cup pitted and chopped green Cerignola olives 2 anchovy fillets, drained and crushed 2 tablespoons drained capers, rinsed and smashed 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar 6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil ¼ cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley Freshly ground black pepper Kosher salt 1 In a nonreactive glass or ceramic mixing bowl, combine the bell peppers, olives, anchovies, capers, and vinegar. Add the olive oil and parsley and about 1 teaspoon of black pepper and stir gently to mix well. Season to taste with salt. 2 Cover and refrigerate for up to 7 days. homemade giardiniera makes about 6 cups 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 1 bay leaf Pinch of crushed red pepper flakes Pinch of dried oregano 2 cups apple cider vinegar 1 cup white wine vinegar 1 cup sugar 1 teaspoon kosher salt 1 fennel bulb, trimmed of fronds, diced 1 large red onion, diced 1 celery rib, diced 1 large carrot, peeled and diced 1 large red bell pepper, ribs removed, diced 1 large yellow bell pepper, ribs removed, diced 1 jalapeño pepper, halved and seeded 1 cup cauliflower florets 1 cup pitted and halved Queen green olives or other large green olives 3 pickled peperoncini, sliced (see Note) 1 fresh sprig thyme 1 cup extra virgin olive oil 1 In a small, dry skillet set over medium-high heat, toast the black pepper, bay leaf, red pepper, and oregano for about 1 minute, or until fragrant. Slide from the pan to a plate and allow to cool. 2 Lay a 5-to 6-inch square of cheesecloth on a work surface. When the herbs are cool, pile them in the center. Gather the corners together and tie with a length of string to make an herb sachet. 3 In a large pot, heat 2 cups of water and the cider vinegar, wine vinegar, sugar, salt, and herb sachet over high heat and bring to a boil. 4 Add the fennel, onion, celery, carrot, bell peppers, jalapeño, and cauliflower. Let the liquid return to a boil, reduce the heat to a simmer, and cook for 10 to 12 minutes, or until the firmer vegetables (carrots, peppers, cauliflower) are al dente. 5 Remove from the heat and let cool. When the mixture is cool, add the olives, peperoncini, and thyme. Stir to mix, and then stir in the olive oil. Use right away or cover and refrigerate for up to 1 month.

sausage and escarole soup minestra di scarola e salsiccia ½ pound dried cannellini beans ½ cup olive oil 8 garlic cloves, minced 1 tablespoon ground fennel seeds 1 tablespoon crushed red pepper flakes 4 sprigs fresh thyme 1¼ pounds Italian sausage, crumbled 4 celery ribs, cut into large dice 2 carrots, cut into large dice 1 onion, cut into large dice Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 2 quarts chicken stock 2 quarts Parmesan Broth (recipe follows) 2 heads escarole, washed and dried 2 quarts Stewed Tomatoes (recipe follows) 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar 1 In a bowl or pot, cover the beans with cold water by about 1 inch. Set aside to soak for at least 6 hours or overnight. Change the water two or three times during soaking, if possible. 2 In a large soup pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the garlic, fennel seeds, red pepper, and thyme and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, or until the garlic softens but does not color and the spices are fragrant. 3 Add the sausage and cook, breaking it into large chunks and stirring until browned. When the sausage is about halfway cooked through, add the celery, carrots, and onion, season to taste with salt and pepper, and cook for about 5 minutes longer, or until the vegetables soften and the sausage is nicely browned. 4 Drain the beans and discard the water. Put the beans in the pot with the sausage. Add the stock and Parmesan Broth and bring to a simmer over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to low and cook for 1 to 1½ hours, until the beans are softened but still hold their shape. Do not overcook. 5 Add the escarole and tomatoes and season to taste with salt. Cook at a gentle simmer for about 10 minutes, or until the escarole is tender. Stir in the vinegar and season to taste with salt and pepper. Ladle into bowls and serve. I love this warm, homey soup, and because it’s one I grew up eating, I am not surprised it hits the spot for so many. In Italy, the region where it’s made dictates the kind of sausage used. In some parts they use pork, in others game or duck sausages. I rely on spicy pork sausage, but if you prefer sweet sausage or turkey sausage, for example, substitute it. The secret to this soup’s special goodness lies with the Parmesan broth, which is a delicious way to use Parmesan rinds—those rock-hard ends on the cheese. It has a wonderful salty and cheesy flavor that makes it perfect for soups and pasta sauces.  serves 6 to 8 parmesan broth makes 1 gallon 1 tablespoon black peppercorns 1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes 1 gallon chicken stock 1½ pounds Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese rind 1 bay leaf 1 sprig fresh thyme 2 tablespoons olive oil Kosher salt

One day, out of the blue, they just became too much. The faces of people who thought nothing of making endless demands, of being constantly given things. The way they sat at the table simply waiting to be served, not lifting a finger. Their certainty that they would be taken care of, without even having to try. I began, in an instant, to hate them. I couldn't be bothered to buy seasonal ingredients, prepare them, cook, choose the plates, serve up the food, then clear away the dishes and wash up for people like that. When I stopped being in touch, when I stopped doing the housework and the cooking, they panicked. Some of them became hyper-suspicious and their behavior took on a stalkerish air. Some of them, after returning to life alone, began neglecting themselves, and suffered physically as a result. Like babies, all of them, whose mother had ceased looking after them. It's odd, isn't it? Once I had found their incompetence, their reliance on me adorable. I believed, up until that point, that I liked pleasing them. Yet I suddenly saw that it was always just me, working away frenziedly, all alone." Rika didn't fail to notice the slightest change in Kajii's expression, the note of sorrow that went sliding across her peach-hued face. "Don't get the wrong idea. I like serving men and giving them pleasure. Women who don't don't deserve the name. But being with just one man, a changeable woman like me gets bored." "And yet you haven't given up looking for a marriage partner?" "It's just that I haven't met the right person yet." "I feel like what you're saying isn't---" "Cooking is enjoyable, but the moment it becomes a duty, it grows boring. The same is true of sex, and fashion, and beauty. When you're forced to do something, it becomes a chore, and the pleasure disappears." Rick's body felt heavy. She knew this was important, and yet she couldn't bring herself to ask a question. "The kind of wife that the men on those sites are looking for is, at base, a woman with no sense of life about her. Their ideal partner would be a kind of ghost." It wasn't at all hot in the room, and yet Rika's armpits were slick with lukewarm sweat. Even the gap between her sleeves and her wrists felt clammy. "The quickest way for a modern Japanese woman to gain the love of a man is to become corpse-like. The kind of men who want those women dead are dead themselves. Indeed, it's because they're dead that they're so terrified of anyone with a sense of life about them. If those men hadn't met me, if I hadn't rejected them, they'd quite probably have died anyway. They were never really here to begin with.

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