Celery

Northern Chinese and Taiwanese meals—especially in restaurants—often begin with a little nibble, dishes of savory snacks that are set on the table with tea. They are generally items that you can pick up with your chopsticks and pop in your mouth in one motion. This cold celery dish is a perfect example, with just the right gentle crunch and bite to whet your appetite.

This dish exemplifies Sicilian cooking, especially in the late-summer months, when eggplant, tomatoes, and peppers are at their best. The same kind of summer-vegetable preparation also appears in French ratatouille. But the difference is that the Sicilians make it agrodolce, sweet and sour: cooking some vinegar and sugar, then tossing with the vegetables. The acidity in the vinegar hinders spoilage, and in hot New Orleans summers, this dish keeps well without refrigeration. Caponata requires a lot of preparation, but once done it keeps well in the refrigerator for up to ten days, and freezes well, so it makes sense to make a big batch. It is a very versatile dish—as an appetizer with some cheese, as a side dish, or as a delicious sandwich stuffer. Actually, it improves if left to steep for a while. I love it at room temperature with a piece of grilled meat or fish.

What makes this dish truly good is the old bread soaked in milk. Not only is it flavorful and mellow, but the traditions are steeped in preserving and respecting food: waste not, want not. It makes for a great vegetarian main course. With some old bread and whatever was growing in the garden, the Italian immigrants could make a delicious meal.

This shrimp dish is most extravagant if made with big, crunchy shrimp, but if you are price-conscious, medium-sized or even small shrimp will still be delicious. Keep in mind that the cooking time decreases as the size of the shrimp decreases. The amount of peperoncino you use to obtain the “Fra Diavolo,” or “Brother Devil,” is to your liking. Fra Diavolo sauce, originally made with lobster chunks still in the shell, is a creation of Italian immigrants in New York City at the turn of the twentieth century.

Free-range chickens, if you can find them, will make a superior stock. I also like the richness that turkey wings add to a chicken stock, so I use them all the time. You can save the chicken parts you need for stock over time, in a sealable bag or container to keep in the freezer, or perhaps your butcher can sell you what you need. Remove the livers from the giblet bag before making stock—livers will add a bitter flavor.

In creating this recipe, I added the mortadella on the spur of the moment. I love raw artichoke salad, but have often prepared this salad with many other, different ingredients, such as raw mushrooms, or shavings of Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano. Recently I made a beautiful salad of small artichokes, crunchy celery, and some great imported mortadella, which I happened to have on hand. And so this salad was born: it certainly is based on tradition, but with my own touch. It has now become a family favorite for buffets, antipasto, or just for lunch.

When I ate my way through Baltimore, crabs were to be had in many ways. It was spring, and soft-shells were on every menu, as were crab cakes, crab cocktails, and crab salads. Most of the dishes had some version of tartar sauce, ketchup cocktail sauce, or rémoulade served with them. I got a yearning for a crab salad Italian-style, so, without much ado, here is one that evokes a lobster salad they often make in Sardinia.

Seafood salad is common in Italian American households, especially on Christmas Eve, La Vigilia, and almost always as an appetizer on menus in Italian American restaurants. As popular as the seafood salad is in the United States, in Italy one is more likely to find a simple salad like this version, containing one kind of seafood. What is most important in this recipe is not to overcook the calamari.

This is wonderful served on croissants or on a bed of lettuce. It also makes a nice appetizer served in miniature phyllo shells.

This is my son Jamie’s recipe. It’s the best! For a little variation, try adding walnuts and canned mandarin oranges or grapes for a Hawaiian taste.

One of the mistakes I see many cooks making is automatically reaching for a can of chicken broth whenever a recipe calls for a bit of stock or a sauce needs an additional 1/3 cup of liquid. But the strong flavors of a broth—and the saltiness of canned broth in particular—can often change the flavor direction from where you want to go. And it’s an unnecessarily expensive and sometimes wasteful habit, if you only use a bit of the can and discard the rest. Instead, I encourage you to adopt one of my favorite thrifty kitchen practices: making your own simple vegetable broth when you are cooking, using it as a multi-purpose “moistening agent” for a host of dishes.

Celery is often underappreciated as a principal salad ingredient. The inner stalks of the head have a wonderful freshness, flavor, and delicacy when thinly sliced. Here I’ve paired them with fresh baby artichoke slices in a salad with lots of bright, subtle flavors and all kinds of crunch. Shards of hard cheese—either Parmigiano-Reggiano or Grana Padano—lend even more complexity to the mix. Use only firm and very small artichokes for this: they should feel tight and almost squeak when you squeeze them, and they should have no choke.

Sheep’s-milk ricotta served with mostarda di sedano was a discovery and delight at Antichi Sapori. Crunchy small diamonds of glasslike celery pieces cooked with sugar and lemon were served as an accompaniment to fresh sheep’s-milk ricotta rounds—simple but extraordinary. Mostarde have been part of the Italian culinary repertoire for centuries, originally as a way of preserving vegetables and fruits—such as squash, apples, and pears—for the winter months. Cooked in sweet syrup with hot mustard added, mostarde were enjoyed as a crisp and fresh-tasting condiment when there was no fresh produce. The epicenter of the Italian mostarda culture is in and around Modena, but every region has some form of it. I am familiar with all kinds of mostarde, but celery? This I had never seen before. I love celery anyway, and in this preparation I absolutely adore it. I serve this with good ripe cheese as well as with fresh sheep’s-milk ricotta. It is a fine condiment for boiled meats, or grilled or poached poultry. And, suspended in its sweet syrup, it is also delicious on ice cream! It keeps in the refrigerator for months, so make a batch and enjoy it in all these ways.

If you simply can’t get past the idea that sardines are oily and fishy, let this crudo change your mind. The key to this dish is using sweet celery hearts—the tender, yellow, innermost bits of the head. You might think of this as the part of the celery that goes in the compost pile, but the truth is that the small yellow leaves have incredible flavor, and the pale stalks add texture without strings. As with all crudos, use your very best olive oil.

I use buttery Yukon Gold potatoes and a sprinkling of fresh dill in my version of my mom’s classic picnic-style potato salad. It’s best before being refrigerated, when it’s still slightly warm and extra creamy, so try to make it just before serving, if time allows.