Ciao, I’m proud to finally introduce the first issue of our Italian Cookbook Club! This is for all the cookbook lovers out there!
I started collecting cookbooks in 2007 when I casually encountered Tessa Kiros’ words and recipes (I shared the story of my profound love for Tessa’s work here). In the beginning, I would lovingly arrange them in a tall, narrow, makeshift cabinet I had reclaimed as mine in my mum’s kitchen, along with the first new spices I learned to appreciate. My tangible memories of those days have the aroma of newly printed books and cumin.
Over the years, my devotion to cookbooks expanded to a large bookshelf in my living room where my sourdough books live alongside my preserving books, the pastry books, those exploring cuisines that are foreign to my taste—and therefore even more fascinating—, and the Italian cuisine books, the majority of my collection. On the bottom shelves, I keep the books written by my favorite authors—Tessa Kiros but also Jamie Oliver and Nigel Slater, to name a few—and those books that are currently inspiring me, either for a personal approach to food or a seductive tone of voice.
I rarely cook from cookbooks. I consider them more an inspiration in terms of pairings, colors, photography, or writing than an actual source of recipes for my everyday cooking. I wanted it to change, though.
When we decided to start a Cookbook Club as a way of fostering a deeper connection with you, offering also a broader inspiration thanks to the words of brilliant food writers, I had also a hidden agenda: cook from my cookbooks. How can you better understand a book if not letting the words of the writer guide you in the kitchen, fulfilling their primary aim which is to make you discover new techniques, flavors, or approaches to food? Month after month, I’ll live, breathe, and eat from the same books we will be cooking from in our Cookbook Club.
You will be able to pick the books that are more interesting for you, cook the recipes I’ll share each month, select new ones if you have the book, or simply chime in on our online conversation in the chat and here in the comments.
I opted for Italian cookbooks for a reason: I think you can learn a lot from authors who cook the same recipes belonging to your culinary tradition but with a different approach, technique, or style.
The uniqueness of a tone of voice is reflected also in the distinct cooking style, pantry choices, flavor combinations, and pairing preferences that make each recipe stand out.
I hope you will join me in this new Italian adventure, and I’m open to suggestions or requests for our next cookbooks.
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As a reminder, this is what we will be reading and cooking from in the next months:
MARCH. Olivia Cavalli, Stagioni: Contemporary Italian Cooking to Celebrate the Seasons.
APRIL. Fabrizia Lanza, The Food of Sicily: Recipes from a Sun-Drenched Culinary Crossroads.
Before delving into our first cookbook, let’s talk also about your relationship with cookbooks: where do you keep them? Are you an avid collector or do you own just a few, selected, reliable cookbooks? Do you have a favorite Italian cookbook? I can’t wait to read you in the comments!
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Last week I met Viola Buitoni in Florence during Pitti Taste, the annual food fair that is held in the Tuscan city at the end of winter, a gathering of the best Italian food producers. We greeted and hugged, then we had a tour of a couple of stands to taste some fine ingredients.
Listening to Viola talking with the same ardor and knowledge about canned tuna, extra virgin olive oil, honey or preserved tomatoes was fascinating, and tangible proof of the passion and expertise that brought her to write Italy by Ingredient, Artisanal Foods, Modern Recipes.
Who is Viola Buitoni?
I am also the daughter of food-loving parents who believed raising your own food was a better way of eating. I was weaned on extra-virgin olive oil and parmigiano. I first spooned ricotta into my mouth straight out of the warm whey in which the local shepherd had just cooked it. I played hide-and-seek in the room where pancetta and prosciutto were hung to cure. At the end of adult dinner parties, I emptied wine leftovers into vinegar barrels I could barely reach.
Her book in a nutshell:
For the home cook who must budget time but does not want to give up great flavor, Italy by Ingredient is a guide to folding the robust character of Italian pantry staples into everyday cooking.
The reason why I love this book, as a cookery writer:
I convey techniques in a sensorial and understandable language, describing the movements you should make and guiding you through the physical sensations that say you are on the right track. Hold on to those sensations; they will change the way you stand by the stove.
The way this book is organized is a dream for all of us, pantry lovers.
It is divided into sections—Condiments, Cereals, Dairy, Meat, Fish—and by ingredient: Balsamic Vinegar, Conserved Tomatoes, Capers and Olives, Rice, Polenta, Farro, Parmigiano Reggiano and Pecorino Romano, Mozzarella, Ricotta, and Burrata, Cured Meats, Anchovies, Salt Cod, Salt Cured Roe.
If having a well-stocked pantry and understanding the ingredients, their use, and quality is often the first step to approaching a new cuisine, this book could be considered an excellent way into Italian cooking.
Among the recipes, you can find some classics—ragù, pesto, tomato sauce, but they all have Viola’s unique touch to them, as a creamed piece of pancetta in the meat sauce—and others that are a new, fresh take on Italian cuisine, as her prosecco co*cktail with strawberries and balsamic vinegar.
What I love the most about this book is Viola’s voice, though.
She has written a cookbook after decades of experience as a cooking class teacher, and you can understand this approach not only from the reliable recipes, or the informative headnotes full of personal anecdotes and insights on ingredients, but from the actual recipes. The method is not a basic, cold collection of steps, but a conversation between a teacher and a curious student, full of sensory references, tips, and vivid descriptions. Viola is right by your side when you cook one of her recipes, you can hear her telling you to check the chicken every 7 minutes to prevent it from burning.
Have you read Viola’s book or cooked from it? Let us know in the comments what you think of it or which was your favorite recipe!
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Today I’m also sharing two recipes from Viola Buitoni’s book: we loved the sage and orange chicken and the farro and artichoke soup, and I am sure I’ll cook them again. This, to me, is the first sign a cookbook is worth
I also learned something new while cooking these recipes: rub the sage sprigs with your hands to release their essence before using them—something that seems so obvious, but I had never thought about it.
RECIPE - Sage and orange–scented chicken with black olives - Pollo con olive nere al profumo di salvia e arancio
Excerpted from Italy by Ingredient, Artisanal Foods, Modern Recipes by Viola Buitoni (Rizzoli). Copyright © 2023
Back in the 1980s, rabbit was not a selection obvious to the butcher in the Upper East Side neighborhood to which I had moved straight from the Umbrian countryside, so I used chicken instead. The day the local Lebanese fruiterer was out of green olives, I bought some sun-dried black ones in their place. I added orange zest later, as my hand in the kitchen became surer of itself. And that is how the rabbit with green olives of my youth was reincarnated into the family favorite chicken. Instead of buying a whole chicken, you can use parts. Dark meat is always juicier, but if you prefer breast, braise it 6 to 8 minutes less or it will be dry. Rosemary, savory, or thyme is a good stand-in for sage, and any type of black olive will do. And it goes without saying that you can and should use rabbit if you like it and can source it.
Sage and orange–scented chicken with black olives
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FOR 6 TO 8 PEOPLE
1 chicken, 4 to 5 pounds / 1.8 to 2.2 kg
Salt and pepper
1 cup / 170 g black olives
1 orange
4 sage sprigs
3 garlic cloves
Extra-virgin olive oil as needed
1 cup / 240 ml white wine
1 cup / 240 ml chicken stock, heated
The day before making the dish, ask your butcher to cut the chicken into
10 pieces (2 cosce, 2 thighs, 2 wings, and 2 bone-in breast halves, each split in half). Make sure the back ends up in the package, too, as it will impart great flavor to the final dish. When you get home, sprinkle the chicken pieces on all sides with salt, cover, and refrigerate.
About an hour before you start cooking, take the seasoned chicken pieces out of the refrigerator, pat them dry, and leave them on the counter to come to room temperature.
Wash the brine off the olives well and place them in a small bowl. Squeeze each one lightly with your fingers to loosen the flesh from the pit and discard the pits. Cut 2 wide strips of peel from the orange. Rub 2 of the sage sprigs and the orange peel strips between your palms to release their essence and add them to the bowl.
Slant the blade of your knife until it is almost parallel to the cutting board and use the heel of your hand to gently press the blade down on 2 of the garlic cloves until you’ve cracked the skin. Peel the cloves and leave them whole. Keep one aside and add the other one to the olives. Pour enough oil into the bowl to barely cover the olives and toss well.
Grate 11⁄2 teaspoons zest from the orange. Peel the remaining garlic clove, then mince it into a paste with a generous pinch of salt. Mix the garlic and grated zest together. Rub the remaining 2 sage sprigs between your palms to release their essence.
Select a sauté pan wide enough to accommodate the chicken pieces in one cozy, but comfortable, layer. Pour 2 to 3 tablespoons olive oil into the pan, add the whole peeled garlic clove, and over low heat slowly coax out the garlic’s fragrance.
Remove and discard the garlic, raise the heat to medium, and add the chicken pieces. Brown them for 5 to 7 minutes, until the chicken will lift off the pan without being forced or pulled. It should be golden. Turn the chicken pieces over and repeat the step on the other side, then move them to a plate.
Turn the heat back down to low, toss in the garlic-zest mixture and sage sprigs, and stir to coat them in chicken deliciousness until the garlic has softened. It will take a couple of minutes, and be careful not to burn the garlic. Return the chicken to the pan, raise the heat to high, and douse with the wine. When the acid of the alcohol no longer pinches your throat and punches your nose and its sugar sweetly caresses your eyes and cheeks instead, pour the hot stock over the chicken. The liquid should lap just the bottom one-quarter of the chicken.
Lower the heat until the stock is simmering with a low, gentle mutter. Cover partially and cook for 30 to 35 minutes. During cooking, you will visit with your chicken every 7 minutes or so to stir it and ensure it has between one half- and 1-inch liquid and isn’t sticking to the bottom of the pan. If necessary, add a little hot water. It is important that there be enough liquid to have a good amount of sauce, but not so much that the chicken is boiling instead of braising.
When the chicken is about 10 minutes from ready, fish the garlic clove, orange peel strips, and sage out of the olives and drain off most of the marinating oil. Stir the olives into the pan and finish cooking the chicken.
The chicken is ready when it starts to barely retract from the joints and bones without falling away and is quite tender. It should look lustrous, luscious, and moist and smell like this is the last dish you’ll want to eat before dying.
Sample the sauce and adjust salt and pepper to your taste. Use tongs to attractively arrange the chicken pieces on a warm serving platter, douse with the sauce and olives, and serve.
Excerpted from Italy by Ingredient, Artisanal Foods, Modern Recipes by Viola Buitoni (Rizzoli). Copyright © 2023
This is the first of two recipes in this chapter featuring farro with mushrooms. These two ingredients join in a canvas that spins charming tableaus across space and time. We are in mid to late spring with this soup, originating from a version that was part of my brother’s wedding buffet in 1990. Oyster and king trumpet mushrooms are abundant, while artichokes are at their tail end, too tough for salads and steaming but still well suited for longer cooking preparations. Green garlic completes the seasonal picture. A pearled farro is the best choice for this dish. If you cannot find green garlic, use a clove or two of regular garlic or a small shallot.
Farro, artichokes, and king trumpets soup
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FOR 4 PEOPLE
1 lemon
6 medium-size artichokes, or 12 to 15 baby ones
1 pound / 450 g king trumpet or oyster mushrooms
1 green garlic stalk (see headnote for substitution)
Salt and pepper
2 strips marjoram
1 cup / 170 g semi-pearled farro
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for finishing
1 cup / 240 ml dry white wine
Grated aged pecorino, for serving
Cut the lemon in half and squeeze the juice into a bowl of cold water. Drop the squeezed lemon halves into the water.
Pick up the first artichoke and remove the outer leaves until about two-thirds of the outer circle of leaves are a lighter, somewhat yellowish green. Slice off the darker tips of the leaves close to the top, being mindful of the thorns. Pare the outer part of the bottom and peel the stem. Finally, slice off a very thin layer from the bottom of the stem. This procedure is called turning, as for each phase of it, your knife will circle around the artichoke.
Cut the turned artichoke in half lengthwise and remove the choke if necessary. The choke is that hay-like fuzz that is often, but not always, in
the middle of an artichoke. Thinly slice each half lengthwise and drop them into the lemon water to prevent oxidation. Perform the turning procedure on all the remaining artichokes. Rub your hands and fingers all over with the lemon halves to remove the bitterness. Wash them well with soap and water. Do not forgo this last step, lest the bitter residue travels to other ingredients your hands will touch.
Wipe the mushrooms clean with a paper towel, trim the very bottom of the stems, and slice them thinly. Clean the green garlic much like you would a scallion: trim off the bottom hairy root and the top third of the green leaves and remove the outer layer. Mince the cleaned garlic into a paste with 1 teaspoon salt. Strip the marjoram leaves and chop them finely. Place the farro in a colander, pick it over, and rinse it.
Pour the olive oil into a saucepan with the green garlic and half of the marjoram. Set over medium-low heat and stand by the stove to closely tend to the garlic and prevent it from burning. Drain the artichokes and shake off the excess moisture.
In 3 to 4 minutes, when the garlic looks hazy and its fragrance is intoxicating, add the sliced artichokes and mushrooms and mix well. When the mushrooms begin to sweat and wilt, stir in the farro then raise the heat to medium-high. Douse with the wine. Wait until the wine’s alcoholic punch to your nose has turned into a sugary caress to your eyes. Cover abundantly with warm water and bring to a boil.
Lower the heat until the soup is at a simmer. Sample a spoonful of the liquid and adjust the salt to suit your taste. Cover and simmer for 20 to 30 minutes, until the farro is quite tender and the vegetables are well cooked. You may need to add more warm water along the way.
This is a dense and hearty soup. If you prefer soupier soups, you can accentuate its brothiness with some warm water. Just remember to rebalance the seasoning that may have gotten diluted in plain water.
Serve warm, finished with a thread of olive oil and dusted with the remaining marjoram. Offer the pecorino at the table for those eaters who would like some.
