In Lombardy, where it’s often cold and foggy, cabbage grows well in the fertile soil and is used in many dishes. The common type here, as all across northern Italy, is the Savoy cabbage—the name suggests its probable origins in neighboring Piemonte, which was once ruled by the Casa Savoia (“House of Savoy”). The loose, wrinkled leaves of the Savoy are great for stuffing, because they’re easy to separate and roll. And they’re delicious in this wonderful dish, mellow and tender but still sturdy enough to hold the sausage-and-vegetable filling. Cabbage rolls are very much part of my culinary heritage. My family grew Savoy cabbage, and I grew up on sarme, the Istrian interpretation of stuffed cabbage. Sarme are a more sour preparation, since the cooking on the eastern edge of Italy had many Slavic and Eastern European influences. The polpette di verza of Lombardy are sweeter (though the wine in this recipe provides a nice balance). Whatever the differences, I love all kinds of stuffed cabbage, and love to serve them at special family occasions. These polpette make a fine appetizer as well as a main course. I serve the rolls in a warm bowl, so the sauce can be scooped up with each bite. For a main dish, accompany them with Riso alla Lombarda (page 43), polenta, or mashed potatoes.
This pasta has some really big energy about it. It’s so extra, it’s the type of thing you should be eating in your bikini while drinking a magnum of rosé, not in Hebden Bridge (or wherever you live), but on a beach on Mykonos.
Among the top tier of sauces is Indonesian satay sauce, because it is the embodiment of joy and life. In fact, this sauce is also trustworthy and highly respectful of whatever it comes into contact with—perhaps it is, in fact, the perfect friend?
Turn humble onions into this thrifty yet luxe pasta dinner.
I should address the awkward truth that I don’t use butter here but cream instead. You could, if you’re a stickler for tradition (and not a heretic like me), add a big slab of butter to the finished curry.
Caramelized onions, melty Gruyère, and a deeply savory broth deliver the kind of comfort that doesn’t need improving.
A dash of cocoa powder adds depth and richness to the broth of this easy turkey chili.
This is what I call a fridge-eater recipe. The key here is getting a nice sear on the sausage and cooking the tomato down until it coats the sausage and vegetables well.
This classic 15-minute sauce is your secret weapon for homemade mac and cheese, chowder, lasagna, and more.