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Tagliata, which means “cut” and refers to a dish of sliced meat, is probably the most popular secondo at the Osteria. The tagliata I’ve been served in Italy has been dressed in different ways, ranging from chopped arugula to sautéed fresh porcini, to black pepper and Parmigiano, or just a drizzle of aged balsamico condimento. I am a salad nut, so the version we serve at the Osteria consists of thinly sliced steak and a pile of dressed arugula layered with thin slices of Parmigiano. When I make it for a crowd at home, I serve the meat on the cutting board and offer the arugula and Parmigiano in a big, wide salad bowl. This recipe calls for two types of balsamic vinegar: an inexpensive cooking-quality balsamic to marinate the steaks, and an aged condimento-grade balsamico, to drizzle on the steak. If you don’t have an aged balsamico the other is no substitute

If subtlety is your thing, this Mozzarella Bar creation is not for you. Each crostino is composed of a really strong vinegar presence from the escarole, which is marinated before being grilled and again after; a strong flavor of smoke from the bacon; and sweetness from caramelized shallots. The role that the cheese plays is to tame those aggressive flavors but the result is by no means bland. The recipe for the shallots makes more than you will need for this recipe, but they are essentially pickled, so they will keep for several weeks in the refrigerator. You can use the leftovers on sandwiches or spooned over grilled beef, chicken, or pork.

From my vantage point behind the Mozzarella Bar I can see people’s faces when they’re eating, and their expressions when they bite into this dish are that they’re wowed. I like brown butter with asparagus, and I like asparagus with almonds, but putting brown butter with burrata—that was a really indulgent decision and a combination I’m not even sure how I had the courage to put together. We use Sicilian almonds, which have a strong almond flavor and also a slight bitterness. If you can find them, use them. When making brown butter, the trick is to brown it enough to get the delicious, nutty flavor that you want without letting it burn. It’s best to do this in a stainless steel pan as opposed to a black-bottomed pan, so you can see the butter browning as it cooks.

I love leeks, and I especially love the traditional French preparation of leeks vinaigrette—boiled or steamed leeks served cold and dressed with a sharp vinaigrette. This is my Mozzarella Bar take on that classic. All of the Mozzarella Bar dishes have some kind of crunchy bread as a contrast to the soft cheese. Some are served on crostini, but those that aren’t are topped with some kind of crouton or, in this case, bread crumbs, which really finish this dish.

It takes a lot of olive oil to make these artichokes, but that’s what gives them their buttery texture and delicious flavor. The good news is that you can use the oil a second time for the same purpose. For this recipe you want to use baby artichokes. If you use the bigger artichokes that are commonly found in grocery stores, you’ll have to remove the choke before braising the artichokes and the final result won’t be quite as pretty. If you like sweetbreads, make a double batch and use half for the Veal Sweetbreads Piccata with Artichokes (page 239), one of the stars on our secondo menu.

I love the way the funky flavor of artichokes complements the mild flavor of buricotta cheese in these crostini. The currant and pine nut relish on top of the buricotta adds a touch of sweetness and acidity, and a little mint pesto livens up the whole story. The result: one of the most popular offerings at the Mozzarella Bar, and one I always recommend to vegetarians.

For these beautiful, sweet tomatoes on the vine, we start with Sunsweet tomatoes, which you can find sold in plastic boxes in grocery stores. I love the delicate, organic look of the small tomatoes dangling from the long stems. This recipe makes more than you will need for four servings of the Mozza Caprese. We did this to tailor the recipe to the size of the boxes the tomatoes are sold in and because you are sure to lose some tomatoes to anyone who walks by after they are out of the oven. If you can find tomatoes on the vine at your local famers’ market, even better.

One of the things I like about Italian food in general is that it is not a wimpy cuisine; the flavors are bold and decisive, as you will see in this preparation of bacalà, or salt cod. I first tried this classic preparation at Ristorante Da Delfina, at the same lunch where I also discovered Ribollita “Da Delfina” (page 115). I loved how hearty the dish was and how pronounced the flavors were. In keeping with the Florentine tradition of eating bacalà on Fridays, we serve this as the Friday piatto special in the Pizzeria, and in keeping with our tradition of cooking Pizzeria dishes in the pizza oven, this, too, is cooked in that oven. We start with fresh cod and salt-cure it in the style of old days, where the fish was cured as a way of preserving it. Ideally you will start with a center cut of cod, which will yield more even-size pieces, which will salinate evenly. The cod takes three days to cure, so plan accordingly.

Bacon-wrapped dates—a more elegant version of rumaki, the 1950s appetizer of chicken liver wrapped in bacon with a water chestnut in the middle—have taken Los Angeles by storm ever since Suzanne Goin started serving them at her restaurant, AOC. I didn’t want to copy hers, but I like them so much that I wanted to make a version for Mozza using figs, which are so abundant in my town in Italy that you almost forget they are a delicacy. Although I’ve never been served anything like these in Italy, I certainly didn’t invent the idea of contrasting the sweetness of figs with something piggy and salty: figs and prosciutto is a classic. At the Osteria, we serve these as an antipasto on a tangle of wilted dandelion greens, but they also make a great bite-size snack for cocktail hour, which is how we have presented them here.

Matt got the inspiration for this dish from the Whole Hog Dinner that the restaurant Oliveto, in Oakland, hosts every year for chefs, food professionals, and friends from all over the world. One year they served pasta with cured pork, pickled peppers, and tomato sauce, which was so good that when we got back to Los Angeles, Matt decided to make his own version. Fiorentini means “Florentine,” but here refers to a twisted short pasta shape made by Setar, an artisanal pasta producer in Napoli. If you can’t find it, use another dried, artisanally produced pasta in its place, such as maccheroni alla chitarra, a big tube-shaped pasta from Napoli. The tubes collapse when they cook so they’re like empty ravioli.

This is a very simple Roman pasta dish made with nothing but black pepper and pecorino romano cheese. We believe in leaving traditional dishes alone, but we did make a couple of changes to this dish. We use bavette, in place of spaghetti, which is the shape traditionally used. And we cut the pecorino with Parmigiano because pecorino is so pungent that it can be overwhelming on its own. The pepper for this dish must be coarsely ground. I recommend you use Tellicherry peppercorns, a fragrant, flavorful variety from India. Coarsely grinding or cracking the pepper for this dish is the perfect excuse for breaking out the mortar and pestle.

When the Pizzeria first opened we hosted a book signing for Lidia Bastianich’s book Lidia’s Italy, and we served Lidia’s peppers as an antipasto. I found myself nibbling on them all evening. Shortly after, I spotted tiny, bright-colored peppers in a grocery store. They were so pretty, with red, yellow, and orange colors mixed in one bag. Motivated by those peppers, I decided to put a version of Lidia’s peppers on the Pizzeria menu. For the stuffing, we start by poaching tuna in olive oil, but you could use quality olive oil–packed tuna. If you don’t want to make 48 peppers, save the excess tuna stuffing and serve it on a salad of arugula dressed with lemon vinaigrette.

Matt added pancetta to this classic dish. It’s such a perfect addition that it feels as if it’s always been there.

Mantecato means “churned,” and bacalà mantecato, essentially an Italian version of French brandade, is salt cod potato purée. We started making these crostini to use the salt cod we had left from the Bacalà al Forno (page 215) at the Pizzeria. It’s so popular that we now make extra salt cod for this dish.

The difference between crostoni and crostini is that crostoni are big and crostini are small. Here, both are bathed in olive oil. We use them when we want the bread to be part of the flavor of the dish, not just a vehicle for other flavors. If you have a sandwich press, you can use it to toast these instead of toasting them in the oven.

Just when I think we have perfected a dish, I come across a version that someone has done better, and that’s what happened here. I always thought we did a great job with the chicken liver pâté we served at the Pizzeria, and it is one of the most raved-about items we serve. The combination of pancetta, lemon, and capers is delicious, and we hand-chop it, which gives it great texture, so I was totally happy with these crostini until I went to the Spotted Pig in New York City and had theirs. April Bloomfield, the chef, served her chicken livers on bread that was doused with—not drizzled and not brushed, but drowned in—olive oil, which made the chicken liver taste that much better. When I came back from that trip, we started doing the same thing, drowning the toast for our chicken liver pâté in the best finishing-quality olive oil we have. After I copied April’s bread, I think our version of chicken liver crostini went back to number one—or at least we’re tied for first place.

I get really excited to be able to offer something that other restaurants are not offering, and that our clientele is not familiar with. So I was really excited when I was introduced to Spaghetti alla Gricia, spaghetti with guanciale and—depending on who you ask—maybe onion on a recent trip to Rome, at a trattoria known for traditional renditions of classic dishes, Al Moro. Alla Gricia is also known as “Amatriciana in bianco” because it is a “white,” tomatoless version of that classic pasta dish. This is one case where I feel that substituting pancetta for guanciale just won’t do. If you can’t get guanciale where you live, find a mail-order source for it. It’s worth it. And until the guanciale is delivered, make something else.

The crostini selection served at just about every restaurant near my house in Italy includes toppings of chicken livers, chopped tomatoes, and white bean purée, such as this one.We simmer the beans with tons of garlic and olive oil, and drizzle the crostini with saba, Sardinian grape must. If you can’t find saba, substitute vin cotto, a sweet, syrupy condiment that means “cooked wine,” or aged balsamico condimento. It is a nice option for vegetarians.We grill the radicchio for these crostini but gave instructions for cooking it on the stovetop because it would be unrealistic to light the grill just to cook a few leaves of the radicchio. That said, if you happen to have the grill on . . .

Up until we opened Mozza I had eaten only meatless versions of arancine. Those I’d had were mostly in cichetti, the shoebox-size stand-up wine and stuzzichini bars in Venice, where cone-shaped versions are a staple, and in Sicily, where they’re much larger and round, like a tangerine. Both were made of plain risotto with cheese in the middle. In Rome, arancine are often called “suppli al telefono,” meaning telephone cords, because the ideal is that the cheese inside melts and stretches like an old-fashioned telephone cord. Matt and I worked hard to achieve that ideal and I think we did. I suggest you make these when you have leftover bolognese because, as good as they are, it would be a herculean effort to make bolognese for just the 1/2 cup you need to make these. Besides, that is what an Italian grandmother would do.

I have never met anyone who doesn’t like these squash blossoms. It would seem like it would be hard to go wrong, considering the combination of deep-fried batter and ricotta cheese, but I find that rarely do restaurants get the filling right. It took us a lot of tries to come up with ours, but luckily Matt and I both knew what we wanted and we both wanted the same thing, which was a light fluffy filling that also had a melting component, which is why we added mozzarella. We dip the blossoms in tempura batter because we like how light and crunchy tempura is. I try not to be brand-specific in my recipes, but in this case we recommend you use Mochiko rice flour, which you can find at conventional grocery stores, and which we think makes for the crispest finished product.