If you liked the fondues so popular in the 1960s—those pots or chafing dishes of melted cheese in which everyone dunked crudités, crackers, and bread—you will be thrilled to taste an authentic fonduta as it is prepared in Valle d’Aosta. Though the technique of melting cheese over a low flame is much the same, the main ingredient makes all the difference: nothing compares to a fondue of authentic fontina, the sweet, nutty, semi-soft cheese made only in the Aosta Valley—and only from the milk of those gentle dappled red, brown, and black Valdostana cows. Customarily served as a dip for chunks of toasted bread, fonduta is a great sauce for all kinds of foods. I like it on poultry and meats, such as poached chicken or turkey breast, or lightly seared veal medallions; or on vegetables—steamed asparagus, broccoli, cardoons, celery, and many more. And it’s delicious spooned over a bowl of hot polenta or boiled gnocchi. There’s one more thing I must tell you. La sua morte, as it is said in Italian, the ultimate pleasurable enjoyment of fonduta alla Valdostana, is to top it with shavings of fresh white Alba truffle from neighboring Piemonte. Two Italian treasures in one dish.
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.
Put these out at a gathering, and we guarantee you’ll be hearing rave reviews for a long time.
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.