Pasta, risotto, pizza and bakes without meat or fish. (357 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.
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.
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 hearty Italian vegetable soup with cannellini beans, cabbage and a little spaghetti, finished with a bright basil and tomato pesto stirred in at the end. Don't let it boil hard once the vegetables are in: over-boiled soups lose their colour and body. Serve hot with crisp garlic toast.
A smooth, creamy cauliflower soup flavoured with nutmeg and Parmesan, with little bow-tie pasta stirred through. It's served with crisp, curled melba toast sprinkled with Parmesan and paprika, so it makes a light meal on its own.
A simple dough, a no-cook tomato sauce and the hottest oven you can manage. A heavy baking tray preheated in the oven does a good job of standing in for a pizza stone.
In Tuscany fettunta (from 'fetta unta', oiled slice) is the ritual of November, when the olive mills press the new season's oil and families in Florence and the Chianti hills grill thick slices of bread, rub them with garlic and pour the green, peppery oil over. With a bowl of beans or a few leaves of cavolo nero, it is supper. The common mistake is rubbing garlic onto cold or barely toasted bread; it needs a rough, charred, hot surface or the garlic just slides around. Chef's tip: be generous with the oil, so it soaks into the crumb, and salt only at the very end so the flakes stay crunchy.
In the hill towns of Abruzzo and around Naples, pasta cacio e ova (cheese and egg) is the meatless cousin of carbonara and a classic late supper when the cupboard is nearly bare: short pasta tossed off the heat with eggs beaten with pecorino, Parmigiano and lots of black pepper until it turns into a glossy, golden coating. Children love it. Pecorino and Parmigiano are traditionally made with animal rennet, so choose a vegetarian Italian-style hard cheese if that matters to you. The common mistake is pouring the egg into a pan that is still on a high flame: it scrambles into rubbery bits instead of turning creamy. Chef's tip: keep a mug of the starchy cooking water by the hob; a splash loosens the sauce the moment it starts to tighten.
Asparagi alla Bismarck is how trattorias from the Veneto to Emilia serve the first asparagus of April and May as a light evening meal: just-tender spears laid on a plate, topped with eggs fried in butter, the butter poured over and a snowfall of Parmigiano. Dip the asparagus tips into the yolk and wipe the plate with bread. Parmigiano is always made with animal rennet, so use a vegetarian Italian-style hard cheese for a vegetarian plate. The mistake to avoid is overcooking the asparagus until it droops; it should still stand up straight when you lift a spear by its base. Chef's tip: let the butter foam until it turns hazelnut brown and smells nutty before you spoon it over, which makes the whole dish taste richer.
Uova al pomodoro, called uova in purgatorio around Naples, is the supper that kitchens from Rome down to Calabria fall back on at the end of the month or on a meatless Friday: a tin of tomatoes, a little garlic and basil, and eggs cooked gently in the sauce until set. The whites turn tender, the sauce goes sweet and thick, and a hunk of bread does the rest. The usual mistake is adding the eggs to a thin, watery sauce; they spread out, poach in pink liquid and the dish turns soupy. Chef's tip: crack each egg into a cup first, then slide it into a well in the sauce so the yolk stays whole and sits exactly where you want it.
Penne al gorgonzola is the weeknight dinner of Milan and the Piedmontese towns around Novara, where gorgonzola is made: the soft, sweet dolce kind melted with a little butter and milk into a pale, tangy sauce that coats every tube of pasta. It needs only a green salad alongside. Gorgonzola is traditionally made with animal rennet; for a vegetarian dinner choose a soft blue cheese labelled vegetarian. The most common mistake is letting the sauce boil, which splits the cheese into oil and grainy curds. Chef's tip: drain the penne a minute early and let it finish cooking in the sauce, so it drinks up the flavour instead of sitting under it.
From October to St Martin's Day on 11 November, Italian towns hold chestnut festivals, the sagre delle castagne, and the smoke of caldarroste drifts from street braziers where chestnuts are shaken in long-handled pans with holes. At home they are roasted in the same way on the hob or in the oven and eaten hot from a paper cone, sweet, floury and smoky, with a glass of new wine for adults or warm milk for children. Chef's tip: wrap the hot chestnuts in a damp tea towel for 5 minutes; the steam loosens the inner skin so they peel cleanly.
Pardulas (called casadinas in some villages) are the sweet of Easter in Sardinia, baked in quantity on Holy Saturday and offered to visitors through the week. Thin, crisp pastry is pinched into little star-shaped cups and filled with fresh ricotta or soft sheep's cheese mixed with saffron, orange and lemon zest and a little semolina, then baked until the filling puffs and turns golden. They are often finished with honey. Most ricotta is made without animal rennet, but check the label for a vegetarian table. Chef's tip: drain the ricotta overnight, as wet cheese makes the filling run and the cups collapse.
Ciaramicola is Perugia's Easter cake, a ring tinted red under a cloud of white meringue and coloured sprinkles, the red and white of the city's flag. It was traditionally baked by girls on Holy Saturday for their sweethearts, and it is eaten at Easter breakfast. The red colour usually comes from alchermes, a spiced liqueur; this version uses beetroot juice and a pinch of cinnamon and clove, so it is alcohol-free. The meringue is baked until set. Chef's tip: spread the meringue right down to the base all round, so it seals in the cake and stays glossy.
On 2 November, All Souls' Day (il Giorno dei Morti), many Italian regions, especially Lombardy, Veneto and Rome, make fave dei morti: small, pale almond biscuits shaped like broad beans. Beans were once linked with the dead and given as alms at funerals, and these sweet 'beans' replaced them; in Venice they come in pink, white and brown. They are crisp outside and chewy within. Chef's tip: press a thumb lightly into each one to make the bean's dimple; it also helps them bake evenly.
In Siena and the Tuscan countryside, pan co' santi ('bread with the saints') is baked for All Saints' Day on 1 November, when the new walnuts and the late grapes come in. It is a dark, lightly sweet bread dough rich with olive oil, walnuts, raisins and a surprising amount of black pepper, which gives a warm bite. It is eaten with the new wine by adults, or with roasted chestnuts. It is vegan. Chef's tip: fry the raisins and walnuts briefly in the olive oil before adding them, as Sienese bakers do; it brings out their flavour.
For St Joseph's Day on 19 March, families in western Sicily (Salemi, Trapani, Marsala) build 'tavolate' or altars to the saint, laden with ornate, sculpted breads: beards for Joseph, a staff, flowers, birds, fish and the hand of God. The breads are later given to the poor and to guests. The dough is a firm, plain semolina bread, so it holds fine detail, brushed with egg and scattered with sesame. Shape a few simple ones first; they are as much decoration as food. It is vegan, glazed with water rather than the egg some bakers use. Chef's tip: keep the dough firm and rest it so it doesn't spring back; soft dough loses its shapes in the oven.
In Sicily, children are given a cuddura cu l'ova at Easter: a sweet, biscuit-like bread shaped into a ring, a basket, a dove or a heart, with one or more whole eggs in their shells held in place by crossed strips of dough. They are baked on Holy Saturday and eaten on Easter Monday, Pasquetta, at picnics in the countryside. The eggs are hard-cooked in the oven, and sprinkles make them festive. Chef's tip: use eggs at room temperature and wash them gently; cold eggs crack in the oven.
Quaresimali are biscuits for Quaresima, the forty days of Lent, when Catholic Italy once gave up butter, egg yolks and rich foods. In Florence they are crisp cocoa biscuits shaped like letters of the alphabet; in Palermo they are long, crunchy almond and honey biscotti, sliced like cantucci. This is the Palermo-style version: whole almonds in a light dough of egg white, sugar and flour, scented with orange and cinnamon, baked twice. They are dairy free and keep for weeks. Chef's tip: slice the logs while still warm with a serrated knife; once cold they shatter.
Pane dei morti ('bread of the dead') is baked in Milan and across Lombardy for All Souls' Day on 2 November. Bakers once made them to use up leftover biscuits, crumbling them with dried figs, raisins, almonds, cocoa and spices into a dark, chewy dough, shaped into long ovals and dusted with icing sugar. Older recipes add a glass of vin santo or white wine; this one uses orange juice. They taste of fig and spice and keep for weeks. Chef's tip: let the mixture rest overnight, which softens the crumbs and deepens the flavour.
Catania's patron saint, Agatha, was martyred by having her breasts cut off, and for her feast on 5 February the city's pastry shops make minne (also minnuzzi): small domed cakes of sponge filled with sweet ricotta, chocolate chips and candied fruit, covered in white icing and topped with a candied cherry. They are eaten during the three days of processions. Many bakers brush the sponge with a liqueur syrup; this one uses an orange syrup and is alcohol-free. Choose a vegetarian ricotta if needed. Chef's tip: drain the ricotta overnight and sieve it with the sugar for a silky filling.
Perugia celebrates its patron saint, Costanzo, on 29 January with the torcolo: a big ring of soft, lightly sweet bread with candied citron, raisins, pine nuts and aniseed, its top cut five times for the gates of the old city. Young women in Perugia once used the torcolo to test their sweethearts, and it is still eaten everywhere in town that week, often dunked in vin santo by adults. This recipe has no alcohol. Chef's tip: dust the raisins and peel with a little flour before kneading them in, so they stay evenly spread.
Olivette are tiny green 'olives' of almond paste rolled in sugar, sold in Catania for the feast of St Agatha in early February. A legend tells that as the young saint was led to her trial she stopped to tie her shoe, and a wild olive tree sprang up on the spot and fed her. The sweets are made from ground almonds, sugar and a little water, coloured green and shaped in the palm. They are gluten free and dairy free, and children love to help shape them. Use a natural green such as matcha or spinach powder if you prefer. Chef's tip: knead the paste only until smooth, as overworking draws out the almond oil and it turns greasy.
St Martin's Day, 11 November, is when Sicilians traditionally open the new wine, and in Palermo it is marked with biscotti di San Martino: round, hard, fennel-scented yeast biscuits shaped like little turbans. Eaten plain, they are dunked in sweet Moscato; the pastry-shop version is split, soaked in a sweet syrup and filled with ricotta cream and candied fruit. This recipe soaks them in an orange syrup, so it is alcohol-free; adults can use Moscato or Marsala. Choose a vegetarian ricotta if needed. Chef's tip: bake them twice, the second time low, so they dry right through and keep for weeks.
On 11 November in Venice, children go from shop to shop banging pots and singing for San Martino, and every pastry window fills with big shortbread horses carrying the saint on horseback, cut out, iced and studded with sweets and chocolates. The biscuit is a plain, buttery pasta frolla that holds its shape well, and the fun is all in the decoration, so it's a perfect baking afternoon with children. Chef's tip: chill the cut shapes for 15 minutes before baking so the horse's legs and sword keep sharp edges.
In Naples, the weeks around All Souls' Day on 2 November are 'torrone time': pastry shops pile up the torrone dei morti, a soft bar of white or dark chocolate filled with a creamy hazelnut or chocolate centre and studded with whole toasted hazelnuts, which friends bring as a gift when visiting. Despite its name it contains no nougat. This homemade version layers dark chocolate around a white-chocolate and hazelnut-paste filling. It is gluten free; some versions add liqueur, this one doesn't. Chef's tip: let the chocolate shell set fully in the fridge before filling, so it doesn't melt through.
On 2 November, the Day of the Dead in Sicily, Palermo families eat muffoletta: soft, round rolls scented with fennel seed, split warm and dressed 'cunzata' with olive oil, oregano, salt, pepper, anchovy or caciocavallo cheese. The custom recalls when the dead were said to bring gifts to children, and bakers make them only around this time. The bread itself is egg-free and dairy-free; dress it with just oil and oregano for a vegan version. Sicilian caciocavallo and pecorino are usually made with animal rennet, so choose a vegetarian hard cheese if that matters to you. Chef's tip: dress the rolls while still warm so they drink in the oil.
Croccante is the sweet of southern Italian feast days: from Naples to Calabria and Apulia it is sold from stalls at the patron saint's festa, set out at Christmas and at Carnival, and in some towns shaped into little baskets for weddings. Whole almonds are toasted and folded into caramel, then pressed thin on marble with the cut side of a lemon, which stops it sticking and leaves a faint citrus scent. It is crisp and glassy with a deep, nutty, slightly bitter caramel. Break it into shards to eat with coffee, or crush it over ice cream. It is naturally egg-free: only caramelised sugar holds the almonds, setting hard as glass as it cools. Chef's tip: keep the almonds warm when they go in; the common mistake is adding cold nuts, which makes the caramel seize into lumps.
Zelten comes from the Alpine valleys of Trentino and South Tyrol, where it is baked around St Lucy's Day and eaten slowly until Epiphany, a slice at a time after Christmas dinner. The Trentino version is a dark, dense cake packed with dried figs, raisins, walnuts and pine nuts in just enough soft yeasted dough, topped with a pattern of whole nuts and cherries. Grappa or rum is usually poured over the fruit; here it is soaked in warm orange juice, and adults can add 2 tbsp rum to the soak. It keeps for 3 weeks wrapped. Chef's tip: press the decorative nuts in firmly before baking, or they pop off as the loaf rises.
Summer in Salento, the heel of Apulia, means the feste patronali, when village streets are hung with lights and the cupetari set up stalls of cupeta, a honey and almond brittle broken from large slabs. It also shows up on Christmas tables and at the feast of Saint Oronzo in Lecce in August. Honey gives it a darker, more floral caramel than plain croccante, and the almonds stay crunchy within a brittle that slowly turns slightly chewy in the heat. Traditionally it was poured onto wafer sheets or fresh bay or lemon leaves; this version uses bay leaves, which add a faint herbal note and keep it gluten-free. Eat it in pieces with coffee, or as a snack while walking through the fair. It is naturally egg-free: honey and sugar, cooked to the hard-crack stage, set around the nuts with no other binder. Chef's tip: lower the heat once the honey starts to colour; it burns much faster than sugar, and scorching is the common mistake.
Palermo's pastry shops fill their windows with frutta martorana in late October, ready for All Souls' Day on 2 November, when Sicilian children wake to find sweets and toys said to be left by the family's dead. The name comes from the nuns of the Martorana convent, who were said to have decorated their bare orchard with almond-paste fruit. Each little fig, prickly pear or orange is so perfectly painted it looks real, and the paste inside is smooth, dense and very sweet, with a pure almond flavour. Serve a few with coffee or a glass of cold almond milk. The paste is egg-free almond paste, made the Sicilian way: ground almonds are stirred into sugar syrup boiled to the soft-ball stage, and the syrup binds them as it cools, unlike some shop marzipan, which is not always egg-free. Chef's tip: let the shapes dry before painting; the common mistake is painting damp paste, so the colours bleed.
Spongata is a Christmas speciality of the hills between Parma, Reggio Emilia and the Lunigiana, a thin, flat round of crisp pastry hiding a dark filling of honey, walnuts, almonds, pine nuts, raisins, candied fruit and spices, all bound with a few breadcrumbs. Families exchange it at Christmas and slice it into thin wedges with coffee. Traditional recipes add white wine to the pastry and a splash of liqueur to the filling; this version uses milk and orange juice, so it is alcohol-free. The filling is best made two days ahead. Chef's tip: prick the top many times with a fork, as the pattern is traditional and it stops the lid ballooning.
Pinza belongs to the eve of Epiphany in the Veneto and Friuli, when bonfires called panevin are lit in the fields and the smoke is read for the coming harvest; slices of pinza and mulled wine are handed round beside them. It is a dense, moist country cake of polenta and wheat flour, sweetened with dried figs, raisins and a little sugar, and scented with fennel seed and orange. Old recipes soak the raisins in grappa; here they are soaked in warm milk, keeping it alcohol-free. Serve it warm or cold in fat wedges. Chef's tip: cook the polenta into a soft porridge first, as dry cornmeal stirred straight into the batter stays gritty.
In Catania, eastern Sicily, Christmas Eve is a meatless vigil, and the big green Sicilian cauliflower (called 'broccoli' there) is 'drowned' in a covered pan with onion, black olives, oil and red wine, then strewn with pecorino. It is served on its own, folded into scacce pies, or beside fried salt cod. The wine cooks off over long simmering but some alcohol may remain, so swap it for water with 1 tbsp red wine vinegar for an alcohol-free dish. Pecorino is made with animal rennet, so use a vegetarian hard cheese for a strictly vegetarian table. Chef's tip: layer the pan, cauliflower on onions on olives, and don't stir; shake it instead, so the florets stay whole and soak up the juices.
Cavallucci are Siena's humbler Christmas biscuit, sold beside ricciarelli and panforte in every pastry shop from Advent onward. They are pale, chewy and craggy, made from honey, sugar, flour, walnuts, candied orange and aniseed, with no butter or eggs, so they are dairy free and keep for weeks. Sienese families dunk them in vin santo after dinner, but they are just as good with coffee or hot milk. Chef's tip: cook the honey and sugar syrup only until it threads, then mix fast; if it goes further it sets the dough rock hard.
Bisciola is the Christmas bread of the Valtellina, the Alpine valley in northern Lombardy known for buckwheat. It is a soft, dome-shaped loaf of rye or buckwheat and wheat, enriched with butter, egg and honey and crammed with dried figs, raisins and walnuts, eaten from St Lucy's Day to Epiphany, often toasted with butter. Some bakers splash grappa on the fruit; this recipe uses warm water and is alcohol-free. It keeps for a week. Chef's tip: buckwheat has no gluten, so keep it to a third of the flour, or the loaf will be heavy and crumbly.
In Abruzzo, calcionetti (caggionetti in dialect) are fried on Christmas Eve and handed round all through the holidays. The thin pastry is wrapped around a sweet filling of chickpea or chestnut purée with cocoa, honey, toasted almonds and orange zest, then fried until bubbly and dusted with sugar. Many Abruzzese families add a little rum or the local Centerbe liqueur to the filling; this version uses orange juice so children can eat them, and adults may add 1 tbsp rum. Chef's tip: seal each one firmly by pressing out all the air, as trapped air makes them burst in the hot oil.
On the afternoon of 8 December and again on Christmas Eve, Calabrian kitchens fill with the smell of crispelle frying: long strips of soft potato-and-flour yeast dough dropped into hot oil until they puff and turn golden. Many families stuff some with an anchovy, but these are the plain kind, eaten hot with salt, or rolled in sugar and honey for children, so they are vegan. They are best straight from the pan, while the outside crackles and the inside is still airy. Chef's tip: oil your hands, not flour them, when stretching the dough; flour falls into the fryer, burns and turns the oil bitter.
In Genoa and along the Riviera di Levante, polpettone is the summer dish made when the green beans come in fast: beans and potatoes are boiled, chopped and bound with eggs, cheese and fresh marjoram, then baked flat in an oiled tin until the top is golden and crackly. It is eaten warm for supper or cold the next day, cut into squares for a picnic or a train journey. One portion gives about 24 g of protein, from the eggs, ricotta and Parmesan, with a little more from the beans and potato. Parmesan is made with animal rennet, so use a vegetarian Italian-style hard cheese if you need it to be strictly vegetarian. The most common mistake is leaving the vegetables wet: squeeze and drain them well, or the loaf stays soggy and will not slice cleanly. Chef's tip: scatter dry breadcrumbs, or fine polenta for a gluten-free loaf, over the oiled tin before you spread the mixture in; it gives the bottom a crisp crust, just like a Genoese grandmother's.
Insalata pantesca comes from Pantelleria, the volcanic island between Sicily and Tunisia famous for its capers, and is eaten all over Sicily on hot summer days, at lunch or as a side to a frittata. Waxy potatoes are boiled and dressed while warm with ripe tomatoes, sliced red onion, the island's capers, black olives, oregano and plenty of olive oil, so the potatoes soak up all the juices. Island cooks sometimes add tuna; this version stays vegan. It gives about 5 g of protein a portion, so for a fuller meal serve it with hard-boiled eggs or a bean dish. The most common mistake is using floury potatoes, which crumble into mash; choose a waxy variety and cut it after cooking. Chef's tip: rinse salted capers well and soak the sliced onion in cold water for 10 minutes; both lose their harshness and the salad tastes sweeter.
Around Cosenza in northern Calabria the late-summer fig crop is dried in the sun, and the best figs are kept for crocette: two figs split open, laid across each other, filled with a toasted almond and a few fennel seeds, then baked until they darken and caramelise. They come out at Christmas, often stored in tins between bay leaves, and are eaten after dinner with nuts and mandarins. Expect a soft, jammy, chewy bite with crunch from the almond and the bright, slightly liquorice note of fennel. They go well with a cup of strong coffee or a little hard cheese. There is no egg and nothing added to bind them: in the oven the figs' own sugars soften and turn sticky, and as they cool they glue the cross together. Chef's tip: pull them out when they look shiny and just a shade darker; the common mistake is baking too long, which makes the figs hard and bitter.
In the chestnut woods of the Garfagnana above Lucca and the hills around Pistoia, necci arrive with the new season's chestnut flour in late autumn and stay through winter, cooked at village fairs and at home as a sweet snack or a light supper. The batter is nothing but sweet chestnut flour, water and a pinch of salt; traditionally it was poured between pairs of hot iron or stone discs lined with chestnut leaves, but a non-stick crêpe pan does the job. The pancakes are soft, faintly smoky and naturally sweet, with an earthy taste, and are rolled around cold fresh ricotta. Serve two or three each, with a drizzle of honey or a cup of coffee alongside. They are naturally egg-free: the fine starch and sugar in chestnut flour set the batter on the heat by themselves, so it holds together without eggs. Chef's tip: sieve the flour and whisk the batter until it is as smooth and thin as single cream; the common mistake is a thick batter, which gives heavy, gummy necci that crack when rolled.
In Tuscany, and above all in Florence and the Chianti hills, beans were once cooked overnight in an old glass wine flask set in the dying embers of the hearth, and fagioli al fiasco are still made in autumn when the new season's peppery olive oil arrives in November. Cannellini, sage, garlic and oil are sealed in a lidded pot and cooked very slowly, so the beans turn creamy and buttery inside while staying whole. At home a heavy casserole in a low oven does the job. Served as a side or a light main with toasted bread, a portion gives about 23 g of protein from the beans. Soak the beans for 12 hours first; that time is not counted below. The most common mistake is letting the liquid boil: fast bubbling splits the skins and turns the beans mealy. Chef's tip: salt only at the very end, and pour over your best oil at the table, not during cooking, where its fresh flavour is lost.
In Friuli-Venezia Giulia, around Udine and up into the Carnic Alps, orzo e fagioli is the thick bowl that warms people through the cold months, made in big pots and eaten for supper over several days. Borlotti beans and pearl barley simmer slowly with potato, carrot and celery until the soup turns creamy and dense enough for a spoon to stand in it. Many families add pork rind or a ham bone; this version is vegetarian and vegan, building depth instead with a slow soffritto, rosemary and a final swirl of good olive oil. A bowl gives about 20 g of protein from the beans and barley. Soak the beans for 12 hours first; that time is not counted below. The most common mistake is adding the barley at the start: by the time the beans are soft it has collapsed into glue. Chef's tip: mash a ladleful of the cooked beans and potato against the side of the pot and stir it back in; it thickens the soup without any flour.
Every Italian region has its plate of verdure grigliate, laid out on summer lunch tables from Puglia to Liguria as part of the antipasti, or eaten as a side to bread and cheese. Slices of aubergine, courgette and pepper are grilled dry until striped and soft, then dressed afterwards in good olive oil, garlic, parsley and a little vinegar so they soak it up as they cool. It is vegan and light, with about 3 g of protein per portion; add a ball of mozzarella or a can of white beans to make it a meal. The common mistake is oiling the vegetables before grilling: they smoke, burn and turn greasy. Chef's tip: make it a few hours ahead; the dressing works its way in and it tastes better at room temperature than hot.
From July to the end of August, a big bowl of insalata di riso sits in Italian fridges ready for beach days, Ferragosto picnics and lazy suppers on the balcony. Firm, separate grains of rice are tossed with diced Emmental, hard-boiled egg, peas, sweet pepper, olives and the tangy chopped pickled vegetables called giardiniera, dressed only with olive oil. Many versions add ham, tuna or frankfurters; this one is vegetarian and gets its protein, about 23 g per portion, from the cheese, eggs, peas and rice. Emmental is usually made with animal rennet, so pick a vegetarian Swiss-style cheese if that matters. The classic mistake is overcooking the rice, which goes mushy and claggy as it cools; cook it just al dente and rinse it cold. Chef's tip: dress the rice with half the oil while it is still slightly warm so the grains stay separate, then add the rest when you mix in everything else.
On 13 December, the feast of Santa Lucia, Palermo stops eating bread and pasta for a day. The story goes that during a famine a ship of grain arrived on her feast day and people were too hungry to mill it, so they boiled the wheat whole; cuccìa remembers that. The berries are boiled until plump and chewy, then folded into sweetened sheep's ricotta with candied orange, chocolate and cinnamon, so it eats like a cannolo filling with a pleasant bite. Serve it chilled in bowls or glasses, on the day itself or any winter afternoon. Like most Sicilian ricotta sweets it is egg-free by nature: the thick, drained ricotta binds the wheat into a creamy pudding, with nothing to set. Some families make a savoury version with chickpeas and oil, too. Chef's tip: cool the wheat completely before it meets the ricotta; the common mistake is folding in warm grains, which melts the cheese into a runny, grainy mess.
In Palermo and across Sicily, July and August bring bunches of tenerumi, the soft leaves and shoots of the long cucuzza squash, to every market stall, and families turn them into this light, brothy minestra for supper, often eaten warm rather than hot. The leaves cook down with garlic, ripe tomato and a little potato, and broken spaghetti is cooked right in the pot. It tastes green, sweet and gently garlicky, with about 5 g of protein per portion from the pasta and greens; grate pecorino over the top if you are not cooking it vegan (traditional pecorino uses animal rennet, so choose a vegetarian hard cheese). The common mistake is using only the large, tough leaves: pick the tender tops and shoots and strip the stringy stems. Chef's tip: let it rest for 10 minutes off the heat before serving; Sicilians say the flavour comes together as it cools a little.
In Lecce and the towns of the Salento, mustazzoli are baked for Christmas and for the summer saints' feasts, when stalls at the fairs stack them in glossy dark piles. They are diamond-shaped biscuits of toasted almonds, flour, sugar and cocoa, spiced with cinnamon and cloves and brightened with orange zest, then coated in dark chocolate. Inside they are firm and dense, a bit like a soft gingerbread, with a crisp chocolate shell. Eat them with an espresso after lunch or pack them as a gift; they keep for weeks. The dough was always egg-free: water and the sugar bind it, the ground almonds give fat and body, and a little baking powder keeps them from being leaden. Use a dark chocolate with no milk solids and the whole batch is vegan. Chef's tip: let the biscuits cool completely before glazing; the common mistake is dipping them warm, which melts the chocolate into a thin streaky coat that never sets glossy.
In Sicily, and above all around Modica and Avola where the almonds grow, biancomangiare is the cool, white pudding of high summer, turned out of fluted moulds after Sunday lunch or eaten at the bar from a little glass. The old Sicilian kind is made with almond milk rather than cow's milk and thickened with starch, which makes it dairy-free and vegan. It is smooth and soft, faintly marzipan-scented, brightened with a strip of lemon peel and warmed with cinnamon. Serve it cold, topped with chopped pistachios, a dusting of cinnamon or a few jasmine flowers, as they do in Palermo. No egg has ever belonged in it, and nothing else is needed to set it: cornflour boiled in the almond milk sets it as it cools, the same way it sets a custard without yolks. Chef's tip: once it thickens, keep it bubbling for 2 more minutes; the common mistake is pulling it off too soon, which leaves a raw starch taste and a pudding that won't turn out cleanly.
In Friuli-Venezia Giulia and Trentino, barley was the everyday grain of the mountains long before rice arrived, and orzotto is the dish cooks make when they treat it like risotto: toasted, then fed hot stock ladle by ladle and finished with butter and cheese. This spring version uses leek, asparagus and peas; in autumn swap in squash or mushrooms. A portion gives about 16 g of protein, from the barley, peas and cheese, so it is not high-protein. Traditional Parmigiano and Grana Padano are made with animal rennet; use a vegetarian Italian-style hard cheese to keep it vegetarian. The common mistake is expecting it to cook in risotto time: barley needs 35–40 minutes and stays slightly chewy even when done. Chef's tip: stir in cold cubes of butter and the cheese off the heat and beat hard for a minute; that mantecatura makes it creamy.
All over Lazio, from the Castelli Romani to the countryside around Rome, these sugar-crusted ring biscuits are put out at the end of a meal and at the autumn grape harvest, when they are dunked into a glass to soften. The classic dough is made with equal measures of liquid, olive oil and sugar; here the liquid is red grape juice, which is close to the fresh mosto of harvest time and gives the same pinkish crumb and fruity edge with no alcohol at all. The rings are crunchy and light, a little crumbly, with a crackly sugar coat and a hint of aniseed. Serve them with grape juice, coffee or a pot of tea for dunking. They are naturally egg-free: the olive oil and juice bind the flour into a smooth dough, and baking powder does the lifting that eggs might do elsewhere. Chef's tip: roll the ropes no thicker than a pencil and a half, about 1 cm; the common mistake is chunky ropes, which brown outside before the middle dries and leave the biscuits hard instead of crisp.
In Sicily, from the villages around Palermo to the hill towns of Ragusa, macco di fave is old peasant food that still appears every 19 March for the feast of San Giuseppe, and on cold evenings through the winter. Dried, peeled broad beans are cooked slowly until they fall into a thick, pale green-gold purée, scented with wild fennel and finished with a thread of peppery olive oil. It is eaten hot from the bowl with bread, or loosened with broken spaghetti; leftovers set firm and are sliced and fried. A bowl gives about 26 g of protein, almost all from the broad beans. Soak the split beans for 6–8 hours first; that time is not counted below. The most common mistake is walking away from the pot near the end: the purée thickens fast and catches on the base, which makes it taste scorched. Chef's tip: if you can't find wild fennel, use a bulb's feathery fronds plus a teaspoon of crushed fennel seeds for the same aniseed lift.
On the Amalfi Coast, where knobbly lemons hang over every terrace, pasta al limone is a summer supper made in the time it takes to boil water. Lemon zest, juice, butter and grated cheese melt into the starchy cooking water to make a light, creamy sauce with no cream at all, fragrant and sharp. Parmesan is traditionally made with animal rennet, so use a vegetarian hard cheese if you need the dish to be fully vegetarian. The usual mistake is adding the cheese over high heat, which makes it clump into strings; take the pan off the flame first. Chef's tip: zest the lemons before you juice them, and only the yellow part, as the white pith is bitter.
In Puglia, through the hottest weeks of July and August, nobody wants to stand over a simmering sauce, so they make pasta alla crudaiola: ripe tomatoes chopped raw, left to steep with basil, garlic and olive oil, then tossed with hot pasta and salty grated ricotta salata. The heat of the pasta barely warms the tomatoes, so it tastes fresh and juicy. Ricotta salata is usually made with animal rennet; a vegetarian feta-style or hard cheese works well instead. The common mistake is using pale, watery winter tomatoes, which give a bland, thin sauce, so make this only when tomatoes are deep red and fragrant. Chef's tip: salt the chopped tomatoes 15 minutes ahead so they release their juices, which become the sauce.
Italian families remember their dead on 2 November, and in Lombardy, Sicily and much of the country in between, the pastry shops fill with 'bones of the dead'. Shapes and recipes vary from town to town; this is the northern style, a lean dough of egg white, sugar, flour and toasted chopped almonds, scented with cinnamon, clove and lemon and rolled into knobbly bone shapes. They bake very hard and crunchy, made for dunking in coffee, milk or a sweet vin santo-style wine, and they keep for weeks. Sicilian children traditionally find them in a basket left by the departed, together with fruit made of marzipan. Chef's tip: let the shaped bones dry for half an hour before baking, which gives them their pale crust; skipping the rest is the common slip, and the bones spread into flat blobs.
From Naples to Turin, spaghetti al pomodoro is what Italian families cook on a Tuesday night when the cupboard holds little more than a tin of tomatoes, a bulb of garlic and a pot of basil on the windowsill. The sauce cooks in the time the pasta boils, turning sweet and glossy as the tomatoes break down in good olive oil. Because there is no cheese in the sauce it is vegan as written, and children love its plain, bright flavour. The most common mistake is burning the garlic: once it turns brown it makes the whole sauce bitter, so keep the heat gentle. Chef's tip: finish the pasta in the sauce pan with a splash of its cooking water for a minute, so the sauce clings instead of sliding off.
Pasta ai funghi is an autumn weeknight standby across Italy, from the porcini woods of Piedmont to the trattorie of Rome, made with whatever mushrooms the market has. The mushrooms are seared until browned and nutty, then tossed with garlic, parsley and pasta water into a silky, oil-based sauce that is vegan as written. Serve it with a green salad. The most common mistake is stirring the mushrooms too early and too often, so they release water and boil grey instead of browning. Chef's tip: a few dried porcini, soaked and chopped, with a spoon of their soaking liquid give ordinary mushrooms a deep, woodland flavour.
Every Sicilian pasticceria keeps a tray of these by the till: small, pale, crackled mounds of almond paste, crisp on the outside and soft and chewy within, each crowned with a whole almond or half a candied cherry. They appear at weddings, christenings and on Sunday trays bought after Mass, and they are wonderful with an espresso or a glass of chilled almond milk. Made from ground almonds, sugar and egg white, they are naturally gluten free and dairy free. A strip of lemon zest and a little honey keep them moist for days. Chef's tip: rest the shaped cookies uncovered for an hour, or overnight in the fridge, so a thin skin forms and they crack attractively in the oven; baking them too long is the classic error, and they turn hard right through.
Their name comes from the Venetian word for 'little yellow ones', after the polenta flour that gives them their colour and slightly gritty bite. Bakers in Venice and the Veneto make them all year, though they are especially popular at Carnival, dipped in a glass of sweet wine or eaten with a morning cappuccino. The dough is buttery and lemony, studded with plump raisins. Traditionally the raisins are soaked in grappa or rum; here they are soaked in warm water with a little lemon juice, and the spirit is an option for adults. Chef's tip: use fine cornmeal, not coarse polenta, or the biscuits crumble; and stop mixing as soon as the flour disappears, because overworking makes them dense rather than short.
Zucchine trifolate is a contorno cooked all over Italy through the summer glut, when every market stall is piled with courgettes: thin slices sautéed in olive oil with garlic and finished with chopped parsley, the same way Italians cook mushrooms 'trifolati'. They come out golden at the edges and tender in the middle, and go beside eggs, cheese or a plate of beans and bread. It is vegan, gluten free and light. The most common mistake is crowding the pan, which steams the courgettes into a watery mush; cook them in a wide pan or in two batches. Chef's tip: salt only at the end, because salt draws out water and stops the slices browning.
Sicilian mothers make pasta con la ricotta on busy evenings and for children home from school: fresh sheep's or cow's milk ricotta is loosened with hot pasta water into a soft, milky sauce, then seasoned with black pepper and a little grated cheese. It is mild, creamy and ready in a quarter of an hour. Ricotta is made without rennet, but parmesan or pecorino usually contain animal rennet, so use a vegetarian hard cheese if needed. The common mistake is spooning cold ricotta straight onto the pasta, where it stays in lumps; whisk it with hot water first. Chef's tip: a little lemon zest or a few mint leaves lifts the sauce without hiding the ricotta.
Buckwheat once grew on the terraces of the Vinschgau and Pustertal valleys, and Buchweizentorte, also called torta di grano saraceno, is what South Tyrolean farmhouse kitchens made of it: an earthy grey-brown almond sponge, split and filled with sharp red lingonberry jam. Mountain huts above Merano and Bolzano still serve wedges of it with a cloud of whipped cream after a hike, and it is naturally free of wheat flour. The crumb is tender and nutty, the jam cutting the richness. Overbeating after the flour goes in is the common mistake, as it knocks the air out of the whites and the cake stays flat and dense; fold lightly. Chef's tip: leave the torte a day before splitting it; the crumb firms up, it cuts cleanly and the jam soaks in evenly.
Surprisingly young for an Italian classic, ciabatta was created in 1982 by a baker near Adria, in the Veneto, as Italy's answer to the French baguettes that were filling sandwich shops. Its name means 'slipper', after its flat, floury, oblong shape. The dough is so wet it is barely shaped at all, which gives a thin, crisp crust and a chewy, glossy crumb full of irregular holes, with a wheaty, slightly tangy flavour from an overnight biga. Split it for panini with grilled vegetables and mozzarella, dip it in good olive oil, or serve it with soup and antipasti. The commonest error is panicking at the sticky dough and working in extra flour; that closes up the crumb, so use wet hands and a scraper instead. Chef's tip: once the dough has risen, don't shape it, just cut it into strips with a floured scraper and flip each one over onto its cloth, so the bubbled underside becomes the top.
Ask anyone in Trentino, Emilia or Piedmont for their nonna's torta di mele and they will describe much the same thing: a plain, lemon-scented batter with thin apple slices sunk all through it and fanned over the top, baked in a round tin on a Sunday and finished at breakfast the next morning with caffè latte. It is soft, moist and only lightly sweet, the apples almost melting into custardy pockets. A slice also makes a good after-school snack. Thick wedges of apple are the usual mistake: they stay hard while the batter overcooks, so slice them 3–4 mm thin. Chef's tip: hold back the prettiest slices for the top and brush them with a little melted butter and sugar, so they caramelise at the edges.
Four crunchy horns joined at a soft central knot make the coppia ferrarese the most recognisable bread in Emilia-Romagna; Ferrara's bakers have shaped it since at least the Renaissance, and it has had IGP status since 2001. The dough is stiff and very smooth, rolled thin and twisted into spirals, so the ends bake shatteringly crisp while the 'belly' in the middle stays tender. Ferrarese eat it with salumi for meat-eaters, with cheese, grilled vegetables or a bowl of pumpkin cappellacci. It is traditionally made with lard; this version uses olive oil instead, which keeps it vegan and still gives the light, crumbly crunch. Rolling the strips too thick is the usual slip, because thick horns stay bready instead of crisp. Chef's tip: a pasta machine makes the dough as smooth and thin as a Ferrara baker's rollers, and the barley malt gives the horns their honey-brown colour.
In farmhouses across Lombardy and the Veneto, the polenta left over from lunch was cut into pieces at night and dropped into bowls of warm milk for the children, and polenta e latte is still remembered fondly as a cosy winter supper. Freshly made polenta works just as well: soft, golden and comforting, with the milk soaking into it. It contains milk; it has no gluten, egg, nuts, soya, sesame or fish. Chef's tip: whisk the polenta into the water in a thin stream, like rain, to keep it smooth.
Crostata di marmellata is the tart that Italian grandmothers bake on Sunday and cut into slices for the week's merenda, the after-school snack eaten from Turin to Palermo with a glass of milk. A tender, lemon-scented pasta frolla holds a layer of apricot or cherry jam under a simple lattice. Choose a high-fruit jam to keep the sugar down. It contains gluten, milk and egg. Chef's tip: chill the pastry well and keep it cold; warm pasta frolla tears and shrinks in the oven.
Torta Margherita has been baked around Pavia in Lombardy for centuries and is still the plain, yellow cake Italian grandmothers make for a child's birthday merenda or a Sunday breakfast. Potato starch gives it a fine, melting crumb, and a thick snowfall of icing sugar is all it needs, though children like it split and spread with jam. It contains egg, milk and gluten. Chef's tip: cream the butter and sugar for a full five minutes until almost white; that air is what makes the cake rise.
Almost every Italian birthday cake, from a child's party in Naples to a name-day torta in Turin, starts with pan di Spagna: a golden, springy sponge made only of eggs, sugar and flour, beaten until it holds its own air. It is split into layers, moistened with a little syrup and filled with crema pasticcera, whipped cream or chocolate. Without butter or milk it is dairy free. It contains egg and gluten. Chef's tip: soak the layers with orange-juice syrup rather than plain sugar syrup, and children will love it even more.
The Italian weaning ritual, lo svezzamento, traditionally starts at midday with a bowl of pappa: home-made brodo vegetale thickened with crema di riso, fine rice flour, and finished with a drop of extra-virgin olive oil. Paediatric habits in Italy favour a fresh broth of carrot, potato and courgette made without salt, and the cooked vegetables are often mashed in as the weeks go by. It is pale, light and gently savoury. It contains none of the common allergens (milk, egg, gluten, peanut, tree nuts, soya, sesame, fish), as long as the rice flour is pure rice. Chef's tip: freeze the spare broth in ice-cube trays, so each pappa takes only five minutes.
Semolino in brodo is the dish Italian nonne cook for anyone who needs something gentle: babies at the start of weaning and older children with a cold. Fine durum-wheat semolina is rained into hot vegetable broth and stirred into a soft, silky porridge, usually served at supper. For babies the broth is home-made without salt, and the grated parmesan that adults add stays out or is kept to the tiniest pinch, because it is salty. It contains gluten (wheat), and milk if you add parmesan; there is no egg, nuts, soya, sesame or fish. Chef's tip: rain the semolina in from a height while whisking, and you will never get lumps.
Locals in Altamura like to quote Horace, who praised the bread of this corner of Apulia two thousand years ago; in 2003 it became the first bread in Europe to receive DOP protection. Pane di Altamura is made only from twice-milled durum semolina grown on the Murgia plateau, sourdough, salt and water, and it is famous for keeping fresh for a week. The crust is thick and crunchy, the crumb is sunflower-yellow, springy and faintly sweet. Its classic shapes are the folded 'accavallato' and the tall 'cappello da prete', or priest's hat, made by folding the loaf over itself before baking. Eat it with olive oil and tomatoes, with burrata and grilled vegetables, or in thick slices beside a bean soup. Plain durum flour or coarse pasta semolina are the wrong substitutes: you need the fine, flour-like semola rimacinata, or the dough stays gritty and won't rise. Chef's tip: durum dough is extensible rather than springy, so knead it well and give it a stiff hydration; a wet durum dough spreads flat instead of standing tall.
When meat was a luxury, families in Calabria, Basilicata and Campania made "meatballs" from stale bread, eggs, pecorino, garlic and parsley, fried until crisp and then simmered in tomato sauce. These polpette are so good that they're still made today, as a Friday supper or as part of a Sunday spread, eaten with lots of bread to wipe up the sauce. Pecorino is usually made with animal rennet; a vegetarian hard cheese works. Chef's tip: squeeze the soaked bread really dry; wet bread makes polpette that break apart in the sauce.
Ask any Italian what their mother made when they were ill as a child, and the answer is pastina in brodo: tiny pasta stars (stelline) or alphabet letters cooked in a light homemade broth and finished with a spoonful of grated Parmigiano and a drizzle of olive oil. It is the first "grown-up" food for many Italian toddlers and the comfort food for everyone on a cold or tired evening. Parmigiano is made with animal rennet; a vegetarian hard cheese works. Chef's tip: cook the pasta directly in the broth, not in water; the starch gives the broth a gentle, silky body.
Salame di cioccolato is the sweet that Italian children help to make: crushed biscuits mixed with melted chocolate, butter and cocoa, rolled into a log, chilled and dusted with icing sugar so that, when sliced, it looks just like a salami with "fat" spots of biscuit. It is served at birthday parties and Christmas, and some families add rum for adults. This version uses no raw eggs and no alcohol, so it is safe for everyone. Chef's tip: break the biscuits by hand into pieces the size of a fingernail; crumbs make it look like a plain chocolate log.
In the bars of Venice, around Campo Santa Margherita and the Rialto, glass cases are piled with tramezzini: soft white sandwich triangles with no crusts, so generously filled they look like small pillows. They are eaten standing at the bar mid-morning or with an aperitivo in the evening. Egg and mayonnaise is one of the classic fillings; tuna and olives is another. Use mayonnaise made with pasteurised eggs. Chef's tip: pile the filling in a mound in the middle, not spread to the edges; pressing the bread around it gives the classic puffy shape.
In the Salento, at the heel of Puglia, ciceri e tria is an ancient dish, its name from the Arabic "itriya" for dried pasta: creamy chickpeas cooked with bay and garlic, tossed with homemade ribbons of flour-and-water pasta, a third of which are fried in olive oil until crisp and scattered on top. It is made for the feast of San Giuseppe on 19 March, and in the trattorie of Lecce all year round. Chef's tip: the contrast is the whole point; fry the pasta strips until golden and crunchy and add them only at the very last moment, so they stay crisp.
In August, when the vegetable gardens of Basilicata and the Cilento are overflowing, families make ciambotta: peppers, aubergines, potatoes, courgettes, onion and tomato stewed slowly together in olive oil until soft and sweet. Farmworkers once ate it in the fields with bread; today it's a summer supper, eaten warm or at room temperature, sometimes with an egg cracked on top. Chef's tip: add the vegetables in stages, potatoes first and courgettes last; that way they all finish tender at the same time without any turning to mush.
Budino is the dessert Italian children find in the fridge on a Sunday afternoon: a soft, wobbly milk pudding flavoured with cocoa and set with cornflour, poured into little cups or a mould and chilled. It is the kind of thing nonna makes in ten minutes for the grandchildren's merenda (afternoon snack), and it is gluten free and egg free. Chef's tip: whisk the cocoa, sugar and cornflour together before adding the milk; mixed dry, they don't form lumps.
Italian hot chocolate is not a milky drink but almost a pudding: thick enough to coat a spoon, made with real dark chocolate and cocoa thickened with a little starch. On cold winter afternoons in Turin, Florence and Perugia, families sit in historic cafés with a cup topped with whipped cream (con panna), dipping biscuits into it. Children love it. Chef's tip: mix the cornflour and cocoa with a little cold milk to a smooth paste first; dropped straight into hot milk, they form lumps.
In Italian bars you can always ask for "un orzo": a hot drink made from roasted barley that looks like coffee and has a toasty, slightly sweet taste but no caffeine. During the war, when coffee was scarce, families drank it every morning, and today it is given to children, pregnant women and anyone avoiding caffeine. It can be made in a moka pot, served in a small cup like espresso or in a large one with milk. Barley contains gluten. Chef's tip: don't press the barley into the moka basket like coffee; packed tightly, it blocks the water and the pot hisses.
The bicerin ("little glass" in Piedmontese dialect) has been served since 1763 at the tiny Caffè al Bicerin opposite the Consolata church in Turin, where it was the drink that churchgoers had after fasting before Mass. It is three layers in a small glass: thick hot chocolate at the bottom, espresso in the middle and cold, lightly whipped cream on top, not stirred, so you taste each layer in turn. Contains caffeine. Chef's tip: pour the coffee and then the cream slowly over the back of a spoon so the layers sit on top of each other instead of mixing.
Frittata is Italy's everyday dish for a quick supper or a packed lunch: a thick, flat omelette cooked slowly in a pan, then flipped over a plate. Courgette frittata, with soft, golden slices of courgette and Parmigiano, is the summer favourite, taken to the beach in a panino or cut into squares for children. It is just as good cold the next day. Parmigiano is made with animal rennet; choose a vegetarian hard cheese if you need to. Chef's tip: cook the courgettes until golden before adding the eggs; raw courgettes make the frittata watery.
In Italy the cappuccino is strictly a breakfast drink, ordered at the bar counter with a cornetto before 11 in the morning, never after a meal. It is a single espresso topped with an equal amount of hot milk and a thick cap of velvety foam, named after the brown habits of Capuchin friars. Baristas in Turin and Trieste are famous for their thick, glossy microfoam. Contains caffeine, so it's not for children. Chef's tip: heat the milk only to about 65 °C, when the jug is too hot to hold for more than a second; hotter milk tastes cooked and the foam collapses.
Torta allo yogurt is the first cake many Italian children bake, because everything is measured using the empty yogurt pot: one pot of yogurt, then pots of sugar, flour and oil. It is a soft, moist everyday cake made in homes across the country for breakfast or the afternoon merenda (snack), plain or with fruit. This recipe gives the amounts in grams for an average 125 g pot. Chef's tip: use whole-milk yogurt at room temperature; it gives a moist cake that stays soft for days.
At every Italian children's birthday party, and in every bakery window from Rome to Bari, there is a tray of pizzette: small round pizzas the size of a palm, topped with tomato and a little mozzarella and oregano, soft and easy for small hands. Mothers buy them by the dozen for school snacks and christening buffets. They freeze well. Mozzarella is usually made with calf rennet; vegetarian versions are easy to find. Chef's tip: cook the tomato sauce briefly first and keep it thick; a runny sauce makes soggy pizzette that slide off the plate.
Peperonata is the summer side dish of the south, made from Naples to Palermo when red and yellow peppers are at their sweetest: strips of pepper and onion stewed slowly in olive oil with a little tomato until soft, glossy and sweet, sometimes with a splash of vinegar. Families serve it with grilled meat, sausages or a frittata, or pile it on bread, and it tastes even better the next day. Chef's tip: cook it slowly with the lid on for the first 15 minutes; the peppers steam in their own juice and turn silky instead of frying hard.
Passato di verdure is the soup Italian children grow up on: a pot of mixed vegetables, simmered in water until soft and blended until velvety, with a thread of olive oil on top. It is the first food many Italian babies are given at around six months, without salt, and it stays the family's light supper for years. For babies from 6 months, the purée here is made with no salt and no stock; older children and adults season their bowls at the table. Chef's tip: take out the baby's portion before you add any salt, and blend it extra smooth.
Scarola alla napoletana is a Neapolitan Christmas Eve side dish, also cooked all winter: tender escarole sautéed with garlic, black Gaeta olives, capers, pine nuts and raisins, a balance of bitter, salty and sweet that reflects the Arab influence on southern Italian cooking. It is the same filling used in the Christmas pizza di scarola, and families often serve it with fried fish. Contains pine nuts. Chef's tip: dry the washed escarole well before it goes in the pan; wet leaves splash and steam rather than sauté.
Scarola e fagioli is one of the oldest dishes of Neapolitan home cooking: tender escarole, a slightly bitter winter salad green, simmered with creamy cannellini beans, garlic, chilli and olive oil into a thick soup, sometimes with broken pasta stirred in. In Naples it is a cold-weather supper, eaten with toasted bread rubbed with garlic. Chef's tip: mash a ladle of the beans into the broth; it thickens the soup and makes it creamy without any cream.
Every Italian nonna has her own ciambellone, the tall, plain ring cake that sits under a glass dome on the kitchen counter for breakfast, sliced and dunked in caffellatte or eaten with jam. It is made with eggs, sugar, flour and oil or butter, flavoured with lemon zest, and often marbled with cocoa. In Rome and Emilia it is also the cake brought to friends' houses and church fêtes. Chef's tip: whisk the eggs and sugar for a full 8 minutes, until very pale and thick; that air is what makes the cake rise tall without much baking powder.
Orzata was first made from barley (orzo), but in Liguria, Sardinia and Sicily it has long been made from almonds: a milky, sweet almond syrup, diluted with ice-cold water and drunk on hot summer afternoons in seaside bars and at home. Its gentle almond and orange-blossom flavour makes it a children's favourite. Contains nuts. Chef's tip: soak the blanched almonds in water for an hour before blending; they release more milk and the syrup is richer.
Vignarola is the dish Romans wait for all year: for a few weeks in April and May, when the first artichokes, broad beans and peas all arrive at once at the markets of Campo de' Fiori and Testaccio, they are stewed together gently with spring onion, lettuce and mint. It is eaten as a side or a light main with bread. Romans usually add a little guanciale (cured pork cheek); this version leaves it out and is fully vegan. Chef's tip: add the peas and broad beans only for the last few minutes; they should stay bright green and sweet.
Cicerchie (grass peas) are an ancient legume that looks like a small, squared-off chickpea, grown on the hills of the Marche and Umbria around Serra de' Conti and Gubbio. They make a thick, nutty, rustic winter soup cooked with garlic, tomato and rosemary, served over toasted bread with a thread of new olive oil. Grass peas contain a natural toxin when eaten in large amounts, so always soak them for at least 24 hours, changing the water a few times, and enjoy them as an occasional dish. Chef's tip: change the soaking water at least three times; it removes most of the toxin and makes the peas easier to digest.
The marocchino was born in the bars of Alessandria in Piedmont, and it is now ordered all over northern Italy: a little glass dusted inside with cocoa, filled with an espresso and topped with milk foam and more cocoa, sometimes with a spoonful of chocolate sauce at the bottom. Its name comes from the brown colour of a leather called "marocchino" once used for hat bands. It is a mid-morning or afternoon treat. Contains caffeine. Chef's tip: dust the empty glass with cocoa before pouring the coffee in; it sticks to the hot glass and gives each sip a chocolate edge.
Siena has been making ricciarelli since the Renaissance: soft, chewy almond biscuits in the shape of a diamond or a curved eye, with a crackled top covered in icing sugar. Sienese families buy them from the historic pasticcerie near the Campo at Christmas and serve them with a glass of Vin Santo after dinner, but they are eaten all winter with coffee. This recipe is naturally gluten free. Chef's tip: let the shaped biscuits dry at room temperature overnight before baking; a dry crust cracks beautifully in the oven while the inside stays soft.
In Palermo and western Sicily, buccellato is the great Christmas ring: a crumbly shortcrust wrapped around a dark, sticky filling of dried figs, raisins, almonds, walnuts, orange peel, chocolate and spices, often decorated with cuts along the top and coloured sprinkles. Families start the filling days ahead and bake several rings to give away. The filling traditionally includes a splash of Marsala; use orange juice for an alcohol-free version. Chef's tip: cut slits along the top of the ring before baking; they let steam out and show off the dark filling.
In the Salento, the heel of Puglia, pittule are fried on the night of 7 December, the eve of the Immaculate Conception, to open the Christmas season, and again on St Martin's Day in November when the new wine is tasted. The dough is so wet it can't be shaped; it is dropped from a spoon or a wet hand into hot olive oil, puffing into soft, irregular golden balls. Plain ones are dusted with sugar; savoury ones hide olives, capers or cherry tomatoes. Chef's tip: dip your hand or spoon in water before each scoop so the sticky dough slides off into the oil.
Canestrelli are the most delicate biscuits in Liguria: daisy-shaped shortbread with a hole in the middle, so fragile they melt in the mouth. The secret is hard-boiled egg yolks pushed through a sieve into the dough, with potato starch, which makes them crumbly and sandy. They are sold in Genoa and the hill town of Torriglia, piled in paper and covered with snowy icing sugar. Chef's tip: work the dough as little as possible and keep it cold; warm dough becomes too soft to cut into neat flowers.
In late August in western Sicily, around Trapani and Palermo, tomato purée is spread on large wooden boards and left in the hot sun for several days, stirred by hand until it turns into a thick, dark-red paste that smells of sun and sweet tomatoes. Strattu, short for "estratto", is used a spoonful at a time to give depth to sauces and stews. This home version dries the passata slowly in a low oven over a day. Chef's tip: spread the purée thin, no more than 1 cm, and stir it every hour; thick layers dry on top and stay wet underneath.
In Naples, pasta with legumes is weekday food, and pasta e lenticchie is the one every family makes in winter: small lentils cooked with garlic, celery and a little tomato until soft, then mixed short pasta (pasta mista, the broken ends of different shapes) is cooked right in the pot until thick and creamy. Lentils also bring luck for the New Year, so many families make it on 1 January. Chef's tip: cook the pasta in the lentils with only just enough water, adding it a ladle at a time; the starch from the pasta makes the stew creamy without any cheese.
Torta caprese was born on the island of Capri in the 1920s, the story goes, when a baker forgot to add flour to a chocolate almond cake and created a classic by accident. It is now the cake of the Amalfi Coast: dense, moist and fudgy in the middle, with a thin crackled crust and a dusting of icing sugar. Restaurants in Capri and Sorrento serve it with a spoonful of cream or lemon sorbet. It is naturally gluten free. Contains nuts. Chef's tip: take it out while the middle is still slightly soft; it firms up as it cools and stays moist for days.
In Rome and across Puglia, cicoria is the bitter green that arrives at every market from autumn to spring, often gathered wild in the fields. It is boiled first to soften its bitterness, then "ripassata", passed through the pan again with garlic, chilli and olive oil. Roman trattorie serve it next to roast lamb or saltimbocca, and in Puglia it is the classic partner for fava bean purée. Chef's tip: boil the chicory in plenty of well-salted water and then squeeze it hard; most of the harsh bitterness goes down the drain with the water.
Scapece is an old way of preserving fried food with vinegar, brought to Naples from Spain (escabeche). In Neapolitan homes, courgette slices are fried until golden, then layered with garlic, fresh mint and a splash of wine vinegar and left for a few hours. The dish is a summer classic, served at room temperature as part of a Sunday antipasto spread or alongside grilled meat, and it gets better the next day. Chef's tip: dry the courgette slices in the sun or on a rack for an hour before frying, as Neapolitan grandmothers do; dry slices fry crisp and golden instead of steaming.
In the Garfagnana, the wooded mountain valley north of Lucca in Tuscany, farro (emmer wheat) has been grown for 2,000 years and has its own protected status. The classic local dish is a thick, warming soup of farro and borlotti beans, half of them puréed, with onion, carrot, celery, tomato and herbs, served in winter with a thread of new olive oil. Chef's tip: blend half of the cooked beans before adding the farro; it gives the soup a creamy body.
In Bologna this rice cake is called torta degli addobbi, after the decorations (addobbi) hung on the houses every ten years for each parish's big religious festival, when it was made and given to visitors. It is a dense, moist cake of rice cooked slowly in milk with lemon, mixed with eggs, sugar and almonds and baked until golden, then cut into diamonds. Traditionally it is soaked with almond liqueur; this version leaves it out, so it is alcohol free. It is gluten free. Contains nuts. Chef's tip: let the cake rest a full day before slicing; it firms up and the flavours deepen.
When the dense, sweet pumpkins come in from the fields around Mantua and Chioggia in October, families turn them into soft orange gnocchi, served with brown butter, sage and a heap of grated cheese. They are rustic and irregular, often shaped with two spoons rather than rolled on a board. Roasting the pumpkin instead of boiling it keeps it dry and full of flavour. Parmigiano is made with animal rennet; a vegetarian hard cheese works well. Chef's tip: add flour a little at a time and stop when the dough just holds; too much makes gnocchi that taste of flour and bounce like rubber.
In Sicily the orange harvest peaks in January, just as wild fennel and the big fennel bulbs come in, and this bright salad is on the table across the island at Christmas and through the winter, often to clean the palate after a rich main dish. Juicy oranges, ideally blood oranges from the slopes of Etna, are sliced with shaved fennel, red onion, black olives and good olive oil. Chef's tip: cut the peel and all the white pith away with a knife, then slice the oranges into rounds; pith is bitter and makes the salad chewy.
Treviso, north of Venice, is famous for its radicchio tardivo, long crimson leaves with white ribs that are harvested in December and forced in cold spring water until they are crisp and only gently bitter. In the Veneto it is often grilled on a griddle over the fire, dressed with olive oil, salt and a few drops of vinegar, and served next to grilled meat or polenta. The heat softens the bitterness and adds a smoky sweetness. Chef's tip: cut the heads lengthways through the root so the leaves stay joined and don't fall through the grill.
In 1952, in the seaside town of Pizzo in Calabria, a gelato maker ran out of moulds for a wedding banquet and shaped gelato by hand in his palm, around a centre of molten chocolate, then rolled it in cocoa. The tartufo, named for its resemblance to a truffle, is now protected as a local speciality, and the cafés on Pizzo's main piazza serve it in summer to crowds of visitors. Contains nuts. Chef's tip: work in a cold kitchen with chilled cling film and refreeze between each step; the gelato must stay firm enough to hold its ball shape.
Delizia al limone was created in 1978 by a pastry chef in Sorrento and became the signature dessert of the Amalfi Coast: small domes of light sponge, filled and soaked with syrup made from the coast's huge, fragrant sfusato lemons, then covered in a lemon custard lightened with whipped cream. Traditionally the syrup includes limoncello; this version uses a lemon syrup so it is alcohol free. Chef's tip: soak the sponges generously but slowly with a spoon; they should be moist through without falling apart.
Krumiri were created in 1878 in Casale Monferrato in Piedmont, and they are said to be shaped like the curled moustache of King Vittorio Emanuele II, who had just died. They are sandy, buttery biscuits made with flour and fine cornmeal, piped through a star nozzle into a curved line, and still sold in their red tins in the town's old shops. Piedmontese eat them dunked in a glass of sweet wine or with a cup of hot chocolate. Chef's tip: use fine cornmeal, not coarse polenta; coarse grains make the biscuits gritty and stop them piping.
In February, from Bologna and Rimini down to Rome, pastry shop windows fill with castagnole, small fried balls of sweet dough the size of a chestnut (castagna), rolled in sugar while still warm. Children eat them by the bagful at Carnival parades, often in costume, and some bakeries fill them with custard or ricotta. Families in Romagna add a splash of anise liqueur or rum; this version flavours them with lemon and vanilla instead, so they are alcohol free. Chef's tip: fry them in oil that isn't too hot, about 165 °C; castagnole need time to puff and cook through to the centre.
Pici are fat, uneven strands of pasta rolled by hand on the board, the everyday pasta of southern Tuscany around Siena, Montepulciano and the Val di Chiana. There they are served all'aglione, in a tomato sauce slowly cooked with aglione, a giant local garlic with a mild, almost sweet taste. Ordinary garlic is much stronger, so this recipe blanches it first to tame it. It is Sunday food at village sagre in summer, when tables are set up in the piazza. Chef's tip: roll the pici on a wooden board, not a smooth worktop; a little friction stretches them into long strands instead of sliding.
Amaretti, "little bitter ones", are named after the bitter almonds that give them their sharp, marzipan flavour. In Saronno, near Milan, they are crisp and light, wrapped in paper; in Mombaruzzo and Sassello in Piedmont and Liguria they are soft and chewy. Both are eaten with coffee, crumbled over ice cream or baked peaches, and used in the filling for Mantua's pumpkin tortelli. This soft version is naturally gluten free. Chef's tip: use a few drops of almond extract rather than bitter almonds, which are toxic raw in quantity; a little goes a long way.
Piedmont's Langhe hills grow the Tonda Gentile hazelnut, prized for its sweet, toasty flavour, and the region's gelaterie turn it into a deep, nutty, caramel-coloured gelato that many Italians consider the king of flavours. Turin is also where hazelnut and chocolate were first combined, in gianduja. In winter the same paste goes into cakes and biscuits. Contains nuts. Chef's tip: toast the hazelnuts until dark golden right through; under-toasted nuts give a flat, green flavour.
Baci di dama, "lady's kisses", were born in Tortona in Piedmont in the 1800s: two small domes of buttery hazelnut shortbread pressed together with dark chocolate, like two lips meeting in a kiss. They are sold in every pastry shop in Piedmont and eaten with coffee or as a gift at Christmas. The local Piedmont hazelnuts are some of the best in the world. Contains nuts. Chef's tip: weigh each ball of dough so they're all the same size; matching domes make neat kisses.
Gelo di mellone is the summer dessert of Palermo, eaten above all on 15 July for the feast of Santa Rosalia, the city's patron saint. Fresh watermelon juice is set with starch into a soft, wobbly pink pudding, scented with cinnamon and sometimes jasmine flowers, and topped with chocolate chips and chopped pistachios that look like watermelon seeds. It is served chilled in small bowls or as a tart filling. Contains nuts in the topping. Chef's tip: strain the watermelon juice through a fine sieve; any pulp clouds the jelly and stops it from setting smoothly.
In Bologna, tortelloni are the big brothers of tortellini: wide parcels of egg pasta folded around ricotta, parsley and Parmigiano, often made on Christmas Eve, when meat is avoided, and on Fridays. The sfogline (pasta makers) of the Quadrilatero market roll the dough by hand so thin you can read through it. They are served simply with butter and sage so the filling shines. Parmigiano is made with animal rennet; choose a vegetarian hard cheese if you need to. Chef's tip: press every bit of air out around the filling before you seal; trapped air makes the tortelloni burst in the pot.
In August, in Puglia and Sicily, halved tomatoes are laid salted on wooden boards and dried in the sun on rooftops for days, then softened in vinegar and packed in oil with garlic, oregano and capers. They are eaten through the winter on bread, in pasta or in salads. This recipe starts from shop-bought dried tomatoes. Chef's tip: dip the tomatoes in hot vinegar and water before packing; it softens them, adds a tang and makes them safer to keep in oil.
"Ugly but good": the name says it all. These lumpy, irregular biscuits from Borgomanero in Piedmont and Prato in Tuscany are made by cooking whipped egg whites, sugar and toasted hazelnuts in a pan before baking, which gives them a crisp shell and a chewy centre. They are sold in paper bags at pastry shops, and Italian grandmothers make them to use up egg whites left over from custards. They are naturally gluten free. Contains nuts. Chef's tip: toast the hazelnuts until they smell deeply nutty and the skins crack; that's what gives the biscuits their flavour.
In Abruzzo, every family has its own pizzelle iron, often a wedding present engraved with the family's initials or a pattern of flowers. The thin, crisp waffles are baked for weddings, Christmas and Easter, and for the feast of San Domenico in Cocullo, flavoured with anise or lemon. Warm, they can be rolled into cones or tubes and filled. You need a pizzelle iron or a thin waffle maker. Chef's tip: lightly oil the iron only for the first pizzella; after that the batter's oil keeps them from sticking.
"Mozzarella in a carriage" is how Neapolitan families used up mozzarella that was a day or two old: slices of cheese sandwiched in white bread, dipped in flour, egg and milk, and fried until the bread is golden and the cheese stretches in long strings. It is sold in Naples friggitorie and eaten at home as a quick lunch or a snack after school. Mozzarella is usually made with calf rennet; vegetarian versions are easy to find. Chef's tip: press the sandwich edges firmly together after dipping in flour; a good seal keeps the melted cheese inside the carriage.
Arrabbiata means "angry", and Romans say the name comes from the red face you get after a plateful. It is the late-night pasta of Roman trattorie and student flats: penne in a tomato sauce made fierce with dried peperoncino and plenty of garlic, ready in the time the water takes to boil. There is no cheese in the classic Roman version, just parsley and the heat. Chef's tip: warm the chilli and garlic gently in the oil before the tomatoes go in; the oil carries the heat through the whole sauce, so it tastes hot all the way through rather than in random bites.
The colomba, the "dove" of peace, is Milan's Easter answer to Christmas panettone: a rich, buttery yeasted bread full of candied orange, baked in a dove-shaped paper mould and topped with a crunchy almond and sugar glaze. Italian families buy or bake one for Easter Sunday and eat it for breakfast through Easter Monday. Bakers use a sourdough starter and three days; this home version uses yeast and an overnight rise in the fridge, so it fits a weekend. Chef's tip: let the dough rise until it really reaches the top of the mould before baking; under-risen colomba bakes dense and heavy.
Across the Veneto and Lombardy, yesterday's polenta becomes today's polenta pasticciata: slices of set polenta layered like lasagne with a sauce of tomato and mushrooms, mozzarella and grated cheese, then baked until bubbling. It is the dish families make for Sunday in winter, often prepared on Saturday. Parmigiano is made with animal rennet, and mozzarella usually uses calf rennet; vegetarian versions work well. Chef's tip: set the polenta in a thin layer the day before; firm, cold polenta slices cleanly and holds its layers in the oven.
Burrata was born in the dairies around Andria in northern Puglia as a way to use the scraps of mozzarella curd, wrapped in a pouch of stretched curd and filled with cream. In Bari and the towns of the Murge it is eaten the day it is made, often as the first thing on the table at Sunday lunch, torn open over the sweetest summer tomatoes. The outside is soft and springy; the inside, called stracciatella, spills out like thick cream. Mozzarella and burrata are usually made with calf rennet, so look for a vegetarian-rennet burrata if that matters to you. Chef's tip: take the burrata out of the fridge 30 minutes before serving; straight from the cold it tastes of very little.
Cicerchiata takes its name from the cicerchia, a small dried legume, because its tiny balls of fried dough look just like them. In Abruzzo, Umbria and the Marche it is the Carnival sweet: the fried balls are stirred into hot honey with almonds and candied peel, then shaped into a ring or mound and decorated with sprinkles. It is broken apart with fingers at the end of Carnival meals. Not for babies under 1 because of the honey. Chef's tip: work quickly once the balls are in the honey and wet your hands with cold water to shape the ring; the honey sets fast as it cools.
Torta della nonna, "grandmother's tart", is on the dessert menu of almost every trattoria in Florence and across Tuscany: a shortcrust case filled with thick lemon-scented custard, covered with a second layer of pastry and scattered with pine nuts and icing sugar. Despite the name it was probably invented by a Florentine restaurant cook in the 1900s, but it tastes of family Sunday lunches. Contains pine nuts. Chef's tip: let the custard cool completely before filling the tart; warm custard melts the butter in the pastry and makes the base soggy.
Giardiniera means "from the garden", and in Piedmont and the north of Italy it is the colourful jar of mixed pickled vegetables served with boiled meats (bollito misto), cold cuts or tuna. Unlike the spicy Chicago-style relish, Italian giardiniera is cut into larger pieces and cooked briefly in a sweet-sour mixture of vinegar, sugar, tomato and a little oil. Families make it in late summer when the garden is full. Chef's tip: add the vegetables to the pan in order of hardness, carrots first and cauliflower and peppers later, so each one stays crunchy.
Four-cheese pizza is a pizzeria classic from Milan to Palermo, a pizza bianca (no tomato) where each cheese does a different job: mozzarella for stretch, gorgonzola for a blue tang, fontina from the Aosta Valley for creaminess and Parmigiano for a salty crust. It is the order for winter evenings, often with a drizzle of honey or a few walnuts on top. Most of these cheeses are made with animal rennet; choose vegetarian versions of each if you need to. Chef's tip: cut the cheeses into small cubes rather than slices and scatter them unevenly; they melt at different speeds and give pockets of flavour.
In every gelateria from Turin to Palermo, fior di latte ("flower of milk") is the plainest flavour in the case and the one gelato makers judge each other by: just fresh milk, cream and sugar, with no eggs and no vanilla, so it tastes clean and milky. It is the base for stracciatella and the perfect partner for fruit sorbets in a cone. Italian children often choose it on summer evenings during the passeggiata. Chef's tip: chill the base overnight before churning; a fully cold base freezes faster into smaller ice crystals, which makes it smoother.
No Neapolitan Christmas is complete without a plate of struffoli: hundreds of tiny balls of dough, fried until golden, then rolled in warm honey with candied orange and coloured sprinkles and piled into a wreath or a cone. Families make them in the week before Christmas, often together around the kitchen table, and give them away to neighbours. They keep for days under a cloth and are eaten with fingers or a spoon. Chef's tip: roll the ropes of dough no thicker than your little finger and cut tiny pieces, about the size of a chickpea; they puff up as they fry.
In Bari, Foggia and the Salento, scarcelle are baked in the days before Easter, often by children with their grandmothers: a soft, lemony shortbread-like dough shaped into baskets, doves, hearts or dolls, each holding a whole egg in its shell held down by strips of dough, then iced and covered in sprinkles. They are given as gifts on Easter morning and to children as a sign of new life. Chef's tip: use raw eggs in their shells and wash them first; they cook in the oven while the biscuit bakes. They are decorative, so wash and dry them well.
In Messina, at the north-east tip of Sicily, Carnival means pignolata: a mound of small fried dough pieces, glazed half with a white lemon icing and half with a dark chocolate one, like a little mountain with a snowy side and a dark side. It is said to have been created by Messina's aristocratic families as a grand version of the humble honey pignolata eaten by the poor. It is served in slices with coffee. Chef's tip: let the first glaze set completely before adding the second; if both are soft at once, the colours run into each other.
Savoiardi were created in the 1300s at the court of the House of Savoy in Piedmont, for a visit by the King of France. They are long, light finger biscuits of whipped eggs, sugar and flour, with a crisp sugary crust and a dry, spongy inside, made to be soaked: in coffee for tiramisù, in liqueur for zuppa inglese, or in milk for children's breakfast. Chef's tip: dust the piped fingers twice with icing sugar, 5 minutes apart; this forms the pearly crust that keeps them crisp outside.
Zabaione (or zabaglione) is said to have been created in Turin in the 1500s and dedicated to San Pasquale, the patron saint of pastry cooks. It is a warm, airy foam of egg yolks and sugar whisked over a gentle heat with Marsala wine, served in glasses with savoiardi biscuits, or poured over fresh berries. In Piedmontese homes it was also given as a pick-me-up. This dessert contains alcohol and is for adults only. For an alcohol-free version, use the same amount of strong coffee or milk with a spoonful of vanilla. Chef's tip: whisk over barely simmering water and keep the bowl moving; too much heat cooks the yolks into scrambled egg.
High in the Valtellina valley near Sondrio, where wheat struggles but buckwheat grows well, polenta is made grey-brown and nutty with a mix of buckwheat and cornmeal. Taragna gets its name from the tarell, the long wooden stick used to stir it in a copper pot over the fire. At the end, butter and cubes of the local Valtellina Casera or Bitto cheese are stirred in until they melt into strings. It is winter food for cold mountain evenings, eaten with mushrooms or sausages on the side. Local cheeses are usually made with animal rennet; a vegetarian melting cheese works. Chef's tip: stir the flour into the boiling water in a slow rain with a whisk; once it is all in, switch to a wooden spoon and keep stirring.
Mostarda di Cremona is a jar of jewel-like whole fruits, pears, cherries, figs, clementines and apricots, candied slowly in sugar syrup and then spiked with mustard oil so that each sweet mouthful ends with a sharp, nose-tingling heat. In Cremona and across Lombardy it is served at Christmas with bollito misto (boiled meats) and with cheese, and it fills the tortelli of Cremona and Mantua. Pure mustard essence is hard to buy, so this home version uses strong mustard powder. Chef's tip: candy the fruit over three days, bringing the syrup to the boil each day; slow candying keeps the fruit whole and glossy.
On 19 March, the feast of San Giuseppe and Father's Day in Italy, every bar and pastry shop in Naples sells zeppole: rings of choux pastry piped in a spiral, fried or baked, filled with thick custard and topped with a dark, syrupy amarena cherry. The fried version is the traditional one; baked zeppole are lighter and easier at home. Families buy them by the tray to share after lunch. Chef's tip: pipe the rings onto squares of baking paper so you can lower them into the oil without misshaping them; the paper comes away on its own.
Graffe are the Neapolitan doughnut, sold warm at bars and pastry shops all year round but especially at Carnival: soft, fluffy rings made with mashed potato in the dough, which keeps them light and moist, fried and rolled in sugar. Neapolitans eat them for breakfast with an espresso, or as a children's snack after school. The name probably comes from the Austrian krapfen, brought to the city in the 1700s. Chef's tip: let the shaped rings rise on small squares of baking paper; you can lower them into the oil on the paper without knocking out the air, then pull the paper away.
Migliaccio is the cake Neapolitan grandmothers bake on Fat Tuesday, the last day of Carnival before Lent. Its name comes from miglio, millet, which was used before semolina: today semolina is cooked in milk with butter, then mixed with ricotta, eggs, sugar and plenty of orange and lemon zest, and baked into a soft, dense, custardy cake. It is a close cousin of the Easter pastiera, without the pastry. Chef's tip: let the cooked semolina cool before beating in the eggs and ricotta; hot semolina scrambles the eggs and the cake turns grainy.
In late June and July the black mulberry trees of Sicily, especially around Messina and Acireale, drop their dark, juicy fruit, and the bars turn them into a granita the colour of ink, sweet and tangy, served in a glass with a warm brioche. Mulberries stain everything, so locals eat it carefully. If you can't find black mulberries, blackberries make a very similar granita. Chef's tip: add a squeeze of lemon; it brightens the berry flavour and keeps the colour vivid.
Crema is the yellow, custard-flavoured gelato that Italian grandparents always order, made with egg yolks like a crème anglaise and perfumed with lemon zest rather than vanilla, as was the old way in Florence and Sicily. It is rich and smooth and is the base for many classic flavours, and many gelaterie still call it "crema della nonna". Chef's tip: cook the custard until it reaches 82 °C and coats the back of a spoon; this makes the yolks safe and gives a silky texture without scrambling.
Carciofi alla giudia come from Rome's old Jewish Ghetto, where for centuries the restaurants along Via del Portico d'Ottavia have fried them from February to April, when the round Roman romanesco artichokes are in season. The artichokes are trimmed, fried once slowly until tender, then opened like flowers and fried again in hotter oil until the leaves are bronze and crunchy like crisps, while the heart stays soft. Chef's tip: before the second fry, flick a few drops of cold water into the oil from your fingers, standing well back; Roman cooks say the spatter is what makes the leaves extra crisp. Do this carefully.
During Carnival every bakery in Florence sells schiacciata alla fiorentina: a low, soft, orange-scented sponge, baked in a rectangular tin and covered with icing sugar with the Florentine lily (the giglio) stencilled in cocoa on top. Florentines eat it for breakfast with a cappuccino or as an afternoon snack, plain or split and filled with cream. The original was a rich yeasted bread with lard; today almost everyone makes this simple, quick version. Chef's tip: keep the cake low, about 3 cm; it is meant to be a thin, moist sponge, not a tall cake.
Every pastry shop in Turin and Piedmont has a tray of cannoncini: puff pastry wrapped around metal cones, baked until golden and flaky, then piped full of vanilla custard and dusted with icing sugar. Little ones are part of the "pasticcini mignon" bought on Sunday morning after church to take to lunch at the grandparents' house. You need cannoncino or cream-horn moulds. Chef's tip: fill them just before serving; custard softens the pastry within a few hours.
Mantua is pumpkin country: the dense, sweet zucca mantovana fills tortelli, gnocchi and this golden autumn risotto, eaten across the Lombard plain from October to the first frosts. Half the pumpkin is roasted and mashed into the rice so it turns creamy and orange; the rest is folded in as soft cubes. Children love its sweetness. Parmigiano is made with animal rennet; choose a vegetarian hard cheese if you need to. Chef's tip: roast rather than boil the pumpkin; roasting concentrates its sugar, while boiled pumpkin waters down the risotto.
On Easter morning in Perugia, Ancona and the villages of Umbria and the Marche, families sit down to a breakfast that comes after Lent: a tall, golden cheese bread, rich with eggs, pecorino and Parmigiano, sliced and eaten with hard-boiled eggs and salami that has been blessed in church. The bread rises high like a panettone and has a soft yellow crumb dotted with cubes of cheese. Pecorino and Parmigiano are usually made with animal rennet; vegetarian hard cheeses work. Chef's tip: bake it in a tall, straight-sided tin or a clean coffee can lined with paper; the high sides help it rise up rather than spread.
At the end of August, all over southern and central Italy, families gather for the "giornata della salsa", the day of the sauce: crates of ripe plum tomatoes are washed, cooked, passed through a hand-cranked mill and bottled in hundreds, with a basil leaf in each bottle. The passata lasts until the next summer and is used for every ragù and pizza. For home bottling, add lemon juice to each jar and process in a water bath, as tomatoes alone are not acidic enough to be safe at room temperature. Chef's tip: use only fully ripe, deep red plum tomatoes; underripe tomatoes give a pale, sour passata.
In Tuscany, vegetables are often cooked "in umido", slowly in a little tomato until they are soft and full of flavour, rather than crisp. Florentine families make fagiolini in umido in summer with flat runner beans or green beans, garlic, a spoonful of tomato and plenty of olive oil, and serve them warm or cold next to roast chicken or boiled meat. They are even better reheated the next day. Chef's tip: don't rush them; the beans should be fully soft and soaked in sauce, not bright green and crunchy.
"Trifolati" means cooked like truffles: sliced thin and sautéed in olive oil with garlic and parsley. In autumn, when the woods of Piedmont and Tuscany fill with mushroom hunters, trattorie from Alba to the Casentino serve them as a side next to roast meat, on polenta or on toasted bread. Any mix of mushrooms works: porcini, chanterelles, oyster or chestnut mushrooms. Chef's tip: don't salt the mushrooms until the end; salt draws out their water early and they stew instead of browning.
On summer mornings in Catania, Messina and the towns around Mount Etna, Sicilians have granita for breakfast: a glass of soft, flaky ice made from almond milk and sugar, eaten with a warm brioche col tuppo (with a little bun on top) for dunking. The almond granita is the most traditional flavour, white, sweet and fragrant. It is made without a machine, just scraped with a fork as it freezes. Contains nuts. Chef's tip: stir the granita every 30 minutes without fail; that's what gives it the soft, creamy flakes instead of a solid block.
In Milan, nobody throws away risotto alla milanese. The next day it is pressed into a hot buttered pan and fried until it forms a thin, crackling golden disc, flipped "al salto" (with a jump) like a pancake. Old Milanese trattorie near the Brera district served it late at night after the theatre, and it is still a favourite way to use up saffron risotto. The cheese in the leftover risotto is usually made with animal rennet. Chef's tip: use cold risotto straight from the fridge and press it thin; warm or thick risotto won't crisp and falls apart when you flip it.
Every Roman bakery and rosticceria has a tray of pomodori col riso in summer: big round tomatoes, hollowed out and filled with raw rice soaked in their own pulp with garlic, basil and olive oil, then baked with wedges of potato that soak up the juices. Romans eat them warm or at room temperature for lunch on hot days, often on Ferragosto (15 August). Chef's tip: let the rice soak in the tomato pulp for at least an hour before filling; it softens and then cooks evenly inside the tomatoes.
Around Parma and Reggio Emilia, where Parmigiano Reggiano is made, the plainest risotto of all is the one families make when someone is tired or unwell: rice, good broth, butter and a generous amount of the local cheese, and nothing else. It is also the base that cooks learn on before moving to fancier versions. Traditional Parmigiano uses animal rennet; for a vegetarian dish use a vegetarian hard cheese and vegetable broth. Chef's tip: keep the broth at a gentle simmer in a pan next to the rice; cold broth stops the cooking each time you add it and the risotto turns gluey.
In Tuscany pinzimonio comes out in November, when the frantoi (olive mills) press the new oil and families want something that shows off its peppery green bite. A jug of raw, cold vegetables is set in the middle of the table and everyone dips into their own little bowl of oil seasoned with salt and pepper, usually before a plate of pasta or alongside bruschetta at the mill. Crunch matters more than anything: fennel, celery hearts, radishes, carrots, young artichokes and red peppers, all very fresh. Chef's tip: keep the cut vegetables in a bowl of iced water for 15 minutes before serving; they turn crisper and look glossy without any dressing.
In Campania, Basilicata and Calabria, late summer means jars of red and yellow peppers in vinegar lined up in the larder. In winter they are fried with potatoes, chopped into Christmas insalata di rinforzo, or served with sausages. The thick, fleshy peppers stay crisp and turn tangy and sweet. Chef's tip: use thick-walled peppers and cut them into wide strips; thin peppers go soft in the vinegar.
Roccocò are the hardest biscuits on the Neapolitan Christmas tray, ring-shaped and studded with whole almonds, scented with orange and pisto spice. The name is said to come from the curly French "rocaille" shape. They are baked in early December, and Neapolitans dunk them in sweet wine or milk, or break them carefully, because they are famously hard on teeth. Chef's tip: bake them twice as long as you think and leave them to dry overnight; roccocò are meant to be crunchy, and they soften pleasantly after a week in the tin.
Stracciatella was invented in 1961 at the Gelateria La Marianna in Bergamo's upper town, inspired by stracciatella soup, where egg is stirred into broth in little rags (stracci). The gelato maker drizzled melted dark chocolate into churning fior di latte, where it froze instantly into thin, crisp shards. It became one of the best-loved flavours in Italy, a favourite with children. Chef's tip: drizzle the chocolate in a thin stream right at the end of churning; it must hit the cold gelato and set at once, or it forms hard lumps.
Neapolitans call this aubergine "a funghetto" because the small fried cubes look and taste a little like sautéed mushrooms. It is a summer side dish from Naples and the Amalfi Coast, made when aubergines are cheap and glossy: cubes fried until golden, then tossed with a quick sauce of cherry tomatoes, garlic and basil. It is served warm or cold next to grilled meat or fish, or piled on bread. Chef's tip: salt the aubergine cubes and leave them in a colander for 30 minutes, then pat dry; they soak up less oil and fry crisp.
In the narrow streets of Naples's historic centre, pizzerie sell a small margherita folded in four like a wallet, wrapped in paper and eaten while walking, for a couple of euros. It is the city's original fast food and still a lunch for students and workers around Via dei Tribunali and the Spanish Quarter. The pizza is small and soft so it folds without cracking. Mozzarella is usually made with calf rennet; vegetarian versions are easy to find. Chef's tip: take the pizza out while the crust is still soft and a little pale; a crisp pizza snaps when you fold it.
On 1 May, Romans head out to the parks and the Castelli Romani hills with a sack of fresh broad beans still in their pods and a hunk of young Pecorino Romano, and spend the afternoon shelling, nibbling and talking. The pairing is simple and very Roman: sweet, grassy raw beans against salty, sharp cheese, often with a glass of something cold and a hunk of bread. Only the youngest, smallest beans work raw, so this is a dish for a few weeks of spring. Traditional pecorino uses animal rennet; choose a vegetarian sheep's cheese if you need to. Chef's tip: taste a bean before you buy; if it is starchy or bitter rather than sweet, braise those beans instead.
In Calabria, from Reggio up to Cosenza, polpette di melanzane are what grandmothers fry in August when the garden is full of aubergines and nobody wants meat. Boiled aubergine is squeezed dry and mixed with stale bread, egg, pecorino, garlic and mint, then shaped into small balls and fried; they are eaten warm as an antipasto or cold the next day in a sandwich. They should be soft and almost creamy inside with a thin golden crust. Pecorino is usually made with animal rennet; a vegetarian hard cheese works. Chef's tip: squeeze the boiled aubergine in a clean tea towel until no more water drips; wet aubergine makes polpette that fall apart in the oil.
Pesche dolci are the showpiece biscuits of weddings and christenings across central and northern Italy, from Emilia to the Marche and Tuscany: two soft, domed biscuits hollowed out, filled with custard, stuck together, tinted rosy red and yellow and rolled in sugar, finished with a mint leaf so they look just like real peaches. Many families soak them in alchermes, a red liqueur; this version uses fruit syrup and food colouring instead, so it is alcohol free and child friendly. Chef's tip: brush the colour on unevenly, red on one side and pale gold on the other, like a ripe peach; one flat colour looks fake.
Farro has grown in the hills of Garfagnana in Tuscany and around Monteleone di Spoleto in Umbria since Roman times, and in summer it turns into a cold salad that families pack for the beach or a picnic in the hills. The grains stay chewy and nutty, dressed with ripe tomato, cucumber, red onion, olives and plenty of basil. It keeps well for a day, so it is the salad you make the night before a trip. Chef's tip: dress the farro while it is still warm; the grains drink up the oil and vinegar, then you add the fresh vegetables once it has cooled.
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