Winter

The thyme really shines in this soup, which is unusual for its use of sautéed apples as a slightly crisp, sweet garnish. In the old days, during times of bounty, a piece of meat would be added with the cabbage; you can do that too, but the cooking process will get much longer. I find this light, first-course soup much more useful without it.

Not “caramel apples”—whole apples coated with candy—but caramelized: Sliced apples baked in caramelized butter and sugar until lightly browned, served warm or at room temperature. If you think applesauce smells good when you make it, wait till you try this—for many, a new way to enjoy our continent’s favorite fruit. There are two ways I like to prepare this: One when I have time and one when I’m in a hurry. The preferred method—essentially a tarte tatin without the crust (if you like, top it with Sweet Tart Pastry, page 654, before baking)—is the main recipe, but it takes a while. This is good with pears (not too ripe) or Asian pears, too.

There are many ways to serve this simple classic, but I like to pipe the meringue into a ring on a baking sheet, then fill the center with the puree and top it with a little sour cream. The result is a surprising, rather elegant winter dessert that’s not too heavy but certainly sweet enough and fun to eat.

When I was a kid, these were always sold in candy shops, and I loved them. They were considered far too exotic to make at home; or at least no one would consider doing such a thing. Years later I learned how. Turns out, of course, they couldn’t be easier, and now they are a wintertime staple in my house.

More luxurious than the following recipe and great served hot, with a little sour cream or crème fraîche.

A light, appealing dessert that is a French classic. You may simply serve the pears after poaching them but the browning is a very nice touch. Pinot Noir is the ideal wine for this, but any fruity, not-too-tannic red will do.

I have been making this winter fruit salad from the time I first started looking at cookbooks and well remember the original Claudia Roden recipe (in her wonderful classic A Book of Middle Eastern Food). My version, honed by experience and travel, is a little different. If you use water, you will probably need to add a bit of sugar; start with 1/2 cup and see how that tastes. This recipe produces a lovely syrup of its own, but you can serve it with yogurt or fresh or sour cream if you like. If you’re in a hurry, you may cook the mixture, gently, until the fruit softens. The texture will be mushier, the fruits less distinctive, but the taste will still be great.

Most of our pumpkins—which are grown more for decoration than for eating—are too watery for this wonderful Turkish dessert. If you can get a small, firm pumpkin, that will do the job just fine. If not, go with winter squash, like butternut, which has firm flesh and is easy to peel.

Similar to Tempura (recipe follows), these are usually made only with vegetables—but a very wide assortment—and the batter is best when prepared with chickpea flour (also called besan or gram flour and available at Indian and many Asian markets and most health food stores). Traditionally, the batter also often contains anardana, a powder made from ground pomegranate seeds—if you can find some (try the same stores that have besan), add a teaspoon to the batter, along with the garam masala. Pakora batter can also be fried on its own, as a fritter; mix a medium onion, chopped, into it, and drop it by the tablespoon into the hot oil.

This dish has roots back in the Renaissance, when people hunted for food and only the wealthy could enjoy chicken. This is good when made with a whole chicken, but I prefer it made only with drumsticks and thighs. It can be made well in advance, and will reheat and remain moist. It is great with polenta or pasta, but I love it with a chunk of crusty semolina bread.

I had this dish at Roberto’s on Arthur Avenue in the Bronx. The smokiness of the provola is the defining element that graces the dish.

This was one of the recipes that I took away from my great lunch with Mario Carbone and Rich Torrisi of Torrisi Italian Specialties in New York’s Little Italy. Turkey is, of course, an all-American product that was brought back to Europe after the discovery of the New World, and it is still not big on tables in Italy. But in this recipe, traditional technique and New World bird combine to make a delicious hybrid. “Sous-vide,” French for “without air,” is a technique of cooking food sealed in a plastic bag. Such foods usually cook for a long time at a low temperature, about 140 degrees F. The integrity of the product is preserved, and, when vacuum-sealed, the food will last longer. To perform this technique properly, one needs a lot of expensive and cumbersome equipment. Some contemporary restaurant chefs use it, and with good results, but I certainly do not recommend it for home use.

In America, meat was plentiful, and combining good veal shanks with lots of vegetables and herbs and simmering it for hours results in fork-tender meat nestled in a complex and savory sauce. Osso buco, literally translated as “a bone with a hole,” is a dish that originated in Milan. A favorite then, it still outsells many other meat choices on the menu at Becco, Lidia’s KC, and Lidia’s Pittsburgh. Serve this dish with an espresso spoon—or, even better, a marrow spoon—so that your guests can scoop out the marrow as the ultimate delicacy.

The braciola, stuffed beef rolled and braised, was and still is part of the Sunday pasta sauce tradition in many Italian American homes across America. If you travel through the Italian communities around America today and ask people, “What dish do you remember eating at home on Sunday?,” the answer is often pasta with braciole and meatballs. Meat was far more available in America than back home in Italy, and adding it to a tomato sauce enhanced the ritual Sunday meal, when the whole family was assembled around the table. A braciola is easy to make: once you have gathered all the ingredients and rolled them into a thin beef slice, it cooks in the tomato sauce for several hours, rendering a delicious pasta sauce to coat some rigatoni and fork-tender braciole to eat with braised escarole and olive-oil-mashed potatoes.

Italians eat a lot of lamb, especially in the spring and summer. I recall that on every major holiday I would always see the whole animal slowly turning on the spit, and it was indeed delicious. I particularly liked to nibble on the rib bones, and my second-favorite was part of the shoulder blade. But when there was no holiday, the slaughtered animals were butchered and sold and enjoyed as lamb shanks, chops, and stews. For this dish, either the boneless shoulder meat or boneless leg of lamb could be used, but the shoulder is more economical, and I am sure this cut is what the Italian immigrants used. In this slow cooking process, the flavors harmonize and the meat becomes fork-tender.

Radicchio belongs to the chicory family. Sweet and bitter at the same time, it is delicious in salads, braised alone, in risotto, and for making pasta sauces. On my recent trip to the Salinas Valley in California, I was astounded to see how radicchio prospered, and how much of it was being produced.

As a child, I had salads in the winter that Nonna Rosa would dress with the flavorful fat rendered from pancetta or prosciutto scraps and a splash of homemade vinegar. The greens were always the tougher winter kinds, like chicory or escarole, and sometimes she even added slices of boiled potatoes, still warm. So, when I had my first spinach salad in America dressed with warm bacon pieces, I assumed my grandma’s salad made with spinach was the American/Italian way.

Every region of Italy makes some form of these fried dough pastries called zeppole. They can be sweet or savory, with goodies embedded in the dough or stuffed after frying. Zeppole are especially prepared for St. Joseph’s Day (March 19), during Lent, for the Christmas Vigilia (Eve), and on holidays. When sweet, they are usually dusted with powdered sugar and served hot. You can find them in every Little Italy in the United States around the holidays.

Fried dough balls rolled in honey, collected in a mound and topped with sprinkles, is a typical Christmas vision at Italian American bakeries across the United States. What I found fascinating is that even though the cookies and prepared food are very good, it is all about memories and traditions. Struffoli seem to be a big part of that Italian American memory.

Escarole is in the chicory family, the bitter dark-green vegetables that Italians love. Escarole played such a big role in the cooking of Italian Americans because it seemed to be one of the few chicory vegetables available here in the States. It is a very versatile and inexpensive vegetable as well: easy to grow, resilient to cooler weather, and giving a large yield per head. The outer leaves can be used in soups, braised with garlic and oil, or stuffed; the tender center white leaves are great for salads. This is an Italian recipe, but the ingredients are adapted to include the local ingredient kale, much loved and eaten in the States.