Pasta, risotto, pizza and bakes without meat or fish. (166 recipes)
The basic method for any dried pasta, from penne to spaghetti. A large pan of salted boiling water keeps the pasta from sticking, and you cook it only until just done, with a little bite left. Use it in salads, bakes or with any sauce.
Tiramisù ('pick me up') was created in Treviso, in the Veneto, around the 1960s and 70s; the restaurant Le Beccherie is the best-known claimant. The original is simple: savoiardi biscuits dipped in espresso, layered with a cream of egg yolks, sugar and mascarpone, and dusted with cocoa. No alcohol and no cream in the Treviso version, which is different from this site's Baileys tiramisu. It is best made the morning of, or the day before. Because the eggs are raw, use the freshest you can find, or pasteurised eggs. Chef's tip: beat the yolks and sugar for a full 5 minutes until pale and thick as custard; that is what makes the cream light without whipped cream.
Rigatoni tossed in a thick tomato sauce with soft aubergine, celery and garlic, with an optional splash of brandy for depth, and topped with grated cheddar.
A fresh, fragrant pesto made with mint leaves and toasted pistachios. It is lovely tossed through hot pasta or spooned over roasted vegetables, and a spoonful lifts a plain vegetable soup.
When the long Neapolitan pumpkins appear in autumn markets, pasta e zucca becomes the weekday lunch in Naples and around the Bay. The pumpkin is cooked down in olive oil with garlic and rosemary until it turns into a soft orange sauce, then short pasta is cooked in the same pot with a little water so it comes out velvety, sweet and peppery. Children love it, and it needs nothing more than grated cheese. The usual mistake is using a watery pumpkin, which never thickens; choose a dense, deep-orange squash such as butternut or delica. Chef's tip: save a few small cubes of pumpkin and add them later, so you get both a creamy sauce and soft pieces to bite into.
In Genoa and along the Tuscan coast, ceci in zimino is the dish of Lenten Fridays and the first cold days of All Souls in November, when the household cooks a big pot of chickpeas and stews them with chard and a little tomato. The chickpeas turn creamy, the chard gives a gently bitter green sauce, and a spoon of good oil on top makes it taste of the Riviera. Serve it as a main dish with toasted wholegrain bread. Suitable as part of a balanced diet, it is high in fibre and plant protein: about 300 kcal and 32 g carbohydrate per portion. The usual mistake is adding the chard leaves too early so they turn brown; keep them for the last 10 minutes. Chef's tip: mash a ladleful of chickpeas with a fork and stir them back in to thicken the zimino naturally.
Lampascioni, the bulbs of the wild tassel hyacinth, are dug in winter and spring in the fields of Puglia and Basilicata and sold in nets in Bari and Matera markets. They look like small red onions and have a pleasantly bitter, earthy bite that the people of Salento love as an antipasto or side to grilled meat, beans or eggs. Suitable as part of a balanced diet, they are high in fibre: about 120 kcal and 12 g carbohydrate per portion. The usual mistake is not soaking them long enough; unsoaked lampascioni are very bitter, so change the water several times. Jarred lampascioni in brine, rinsed well, are a quick alternative. Chef's tip: cut a small cross in the root end of each bulb so the bitterness leaches out and they cook evenly.
Salmoriglio is the sauce of Sicily and Calabria's summer grills, brushed over swordfish in Messina and over grilled aubergine and peppers in every courtyard from Palermo to Reggio. Olive oil is whisked with lemon juice, a little warm water, dried oregano and garlic until it turns pale and creamy, and the herbs and citrus do the seasoning that salt usually does. This version uses no salt: about 0.0 g salt per portion. The usual mistake is pouring it over cold food; brush it onto food straight off the grill so the heat releases the oregano's perfume. Use Sicilian oregano on the stem if you can find it. Chef's tip: whisk the oil in slowly over a bowl set on warm water, the old way, and the sauce emulsifies and stays creamy.
In Neapolitan homes pasta e broccoli is a midweek winter lunch, the sort of 'pasta e…' dish where vegetables and pasta are cooked in the same pot until they turn creamy without any cream. Broccoli is simmered with garlic, chilli and olive oil until it falls apart, then broken short pasta goes straight in with a little hot water and is stirred like a risotto, so the starch binds it all into a thick, green sauce. Finish with grated cheese and a thread of good oil. The usual mistake is adding too much water at once, which turns it into soup; add a ladle at a time. Chef's tip: chop the broccoli stalks finely and start them first, because they give the sauce most of its body.
Agretti, also called barba di frate or 'monk's beard', appear in Roman and Tuscan markets for a short season in March and April, tied in bunches that look like thick chives. Blanched for a minute and dressed all'agro, with lemon and good olive oil, they are a juicy, slightly salty spring side for an egg dish, grilled fish or beans. Suitable as part of a balanced diet, they are almost free of starch: about 80 kcal and 3 g carbohydrate per portion. The usual mistake is overcooking them into limp threads; they should keep a crisp, spinach-like snap. Chef's tip: agretti are naturally salty, so taste before adding any salt at all.
Riso e verze is a Lombard and Venetian farmhouse supper for the coldest months, when Savoy cabbage has been sweetened by the frost. Shredded cabbage is stewed slowly in butter and onion until it melts, then rice and stock go into the same pot and simmer into a thick, spoon-standing soup finished with grated cheese. Serve it in deep bowls with black pepper and crusty bread. The usual mistake is boiling the cabbage straight in stock, which makes it taste of sulphur; stew it in butter first until it is soft and sweet. Chef's tip: make it a little loose, because the rice keeps drinking the broth as it stands.
Pasta e cavolfiore belongs to the family of thick Neapolitan 'pasta e…' dishes eaten at home on Fridays and cold weekdays, when a single cauliflower and a handful of mixed pasta ends have to feed the family. The cauliflower is softened with garlic, a little tomato and chilli, then the pasta is cooked right in it with small additions of hot water until the whole pot is creamy and the cauliflower has partly melted into the sauce. Finish with pecorino and black pepper. The usual mistake is cooking the cauliflower in big florets, which never break down; cut it small so some of it becomes the sauce. Chef's tip: let it rest for two minutes off the heat after the cheese goes in; it thickens into the proper 'azzeccata' texture that holds a fork upright.
Ask any Italian nonna what a baby has for merenda, the mid-afternoon snack, and she will mime grating an apple: in homes from Turin to Bari, a sweet apple is grated very finely on the small holes of a grater and spooned up at once, before it turns brown. Paediatricians in Italy suggest it from six months, and for the first few times many parents steam the apple briefly so it is softer still. It tastes fresh and naturally sweet; the old habit of crumbling in a biscuit or a spoon of sugar is not for babies under one, and honey never. It is free of the major allergens. Chef's tip: a squeeze of lemon is often added to stop browning, but for babies simply grate it right before serving.
Scafata comes from the hill towns of Umbria, around Spoleto and Foligno, where it is cooked in late April and May when the first fresh broad beans, chard and spring onions arrive together. The beans are stewed slowly in olive oil and tomato until they are soft and creamy, with the chard melting into a green, fragrant sauce scented with wild fennel or mint. Eat it warm with a slice of wholegrain bread. Suitable as part of a balanced diet, it is rich in fibre and plant protein: about 240 kcal and 22 g carbohydrate per portion. The usual mistake is boiling it fast, which toughens the beans; it needs a lazy simmer. Chef's tip: double-pod only the large, older beans; young ones can be cooked in their pale skins.
Scagliuozzi are triangles of firm polenta fried until blistered and golden, and in Naples they are rarely eaten alone: the friggitorie of Via dei Tribunali and the Pignasecca market tuck them into a cuoppo, a cone of brown paper, with zeppoline and potato croquettes. People buy them mid-morning or on the evening passeggiata and eat them walking, still too hot to hold. The outside shatters, the inside stays soft and sweet with corn. Make the polenta the day before so it sets firm. Chef's tip: cook the polenta thick enough that a spoon stands up in it; soft polenta spits and falls apart in the oil.
Pasta cresciuta means "risen dough", and that is all it is: a loose, sticky yeast batter dropped by the spoonful into hot oil, where it swells into airy, irregular puffs. In Naples the friggitorie around Piazza Mercato and the Quartieri Spagnoli sell them by the paper cone, plain or with a little seaweed (alghe) folded in, and at Christmas they appear as zeppoline on every table. They are best eaten within minutes, while crisp outside and chewy-soft within. Chef's tip: wet your spoon in a glass of water between each blob, so the sticky batter slides off cleanly into the oil.
On hot afternoons along the Lungomare and in Piazza Sannazaro, the old acquafrescai kiosks squeeze half a lemon into a glass of sparkling water, then add a pinch of bicarbonate of soda. The drink foams up and over the rim, so you have to lean forward with your legs apart to drink it without soaking your shoes, which is where the cheeky name comes from. It tastes sharp, salty-fresh and very fizzy, and Neapolitans swear by it after a heavy lunch. Chef's tip: have the glass at your lips before you stir in the bicarbonate; the foam rises in seconds.
Calia (toasted chickpeas) and simenza (salted pumpkin seeds) are sold together in twisted paper bags by the old caliari of Palermo, at the Festino of Santa Rosalia in July, along the Foro Italico seafront and outside the Teatro Massimo after a show. You crack the seeds with your teeth and chase them with the crunchy, nutty chickpeas, a habit that can last a whole evening. This home version roasts soaked dried chickpeas and salted seeds in the oven. Chef's tip: dry the soaked chickpeas really well; any surface water steams them instead of making them crunchy.
Pane toscano, called pane sciocco ('foolish' or 'bland' bread) in Florence and Siena, is the saltless loaf that Tuscans have eaten for centuries; legend blames a medieval salt tax. It has a thick, crackly crust and an open, chewy crumb, and it is made to be eaten with salty prosciutto, pecorino and ribollita, or soaked in panzanella and pappa al pomodoro. There is no salt in the dough: about 0.0 g salt per slice. The usual mistake is under-proving: without salt the dough rises fast, and with too little rest it tastes floury; a starter and a slow rise give it flavour. Chef's tip: bake with steam (a tray of boiling water in the oven) for the first 15 minutes, which is what gives the crust its proper Tuscan crunch.
Gremolata is the Milanese finishing touch spooned over ossobuco on Sunday tables across Lombardy, and it brightens any slow-cooked stew, roast vegetables, beans or grilled fish. Flat-leaf parsley, lemon zest and raw garlic are chopped together so finely that they become a fragrant green confetti; the fresh, sharp flavour wakes up a dish so much that you need far less salt. About 0.0 g salt per portion. The usual mistake is grating the white pith with the zest, which makes it bitter; take only the yellow skin. Make it no more than an hour ahead, as the garlic gets harsh and the parsley darkens. Chef's tip: chop the garlic first with a few parsley leaves, so the juice soaks into the herbs instead of sticking to the knife.
When Milan's offices empty onto park benches in July, the schiscetta (the Milanese word for a packed lunch tin) usually holds pasta fredda: short pasta dressed with olive oil, sweet cherry tomatoes, little mozzarella balls, black olives and torn basil. It is made the night before and tastes best at cool room temperature, never fridge-cold. The common mistake is rinsing the cooked pasta under the tap until it is icy and then dressing it: the starch closes up, the oil slides off and the salad tastes flat. Many mozzarellas are made with animal rennet, so look for one labelled vegetarian, or use cubes of a vegetarian cheese. Pack it with an ice pack and take it out of the bag 20 minutes before eating. Chef's tip: toss the drained, still-warm pasta with half the oil and the salted tomatoes straight away so it drinks up their juice.
Across Puglia, Campania and Sicily, summer gardens overflow with courgettes, and the glut ends up grated into polpette that are fried for supper and packed cold the next day for school and work. They are crisp outside and soft and herby inside. The common mistake is skipping the squeeze: courgette is mostly water, and if you don't wring it out the mix stays sloppy and the balls fall apart in the pan. Traditional recipes use Parmigiano or pecorino, which are always made with animal rennet, so this version uses a vegetarian Italian-style hard cheese. Chef's tip: let the shaped balls rest in the fridge for 15 minutes so the breadcrumbs swell and they hold their shape.
In the hills of the Garfagnana and around Spoleto, where farro has been grown since Roman times, cooks make farrotto in autumn and winter as a heartier cousin of risotto. Semi-pearled farro is toasted in olive oil with onion and celery, then cooked slowly with hot vegetable stock, ladle by ladle, until the grains are tender but still bouncy and wrapped in a light, creamy sauce. Finish with pecorino and serve as a main with a green salad. The usual mistake is stirring as constantly as for risotto; farro releases less starch, so stir every few minutes and beat in the cheese at the end for creaminess. Chef's tip: toast the dry grains until they smell like popcorn before adding any liquid; it deepens the nutty flavour.
When July heat settles over Italian piazzas, bar regulars from Rome to Bologna switch their morning or after-lunch espresso for a shakerato. The barista pulls a fresh shot, tips it into a cocktail shaker with ice and sugar, shakes hard for fifteen seconds and strains it into a chilled martini or wine glass, where it settles into a dark body under a thick, beige, mousse-like crema. It tastes intense and bittersweet, colder and smoother than iced coffee, with a texture almost like a light cream. The common mistake is using too little ice or shaking half-heartedly: the coffee stays warm and the foam collapses within seconds. Fill the shaker at least half full with ice and shake until the metal is too cold to hold comfortably. It is ready when you hear the ice rattle softly and the shaker frosts over, and the pour has a thick foam on top. One shaker holds one double espresso, so it is fairly strong in caffeine. Chef's tip: dissolve the sugar in the hot espresso before adding ice; granulated sugar barely melts once the coffee is cold.
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