The 200-year-old L’Europeo, one of the best restaurants in Naples, serves the most delicious rendition of a favorite Neapolitan dish—pasta, patate, e provola. You can probably translate this yourself: pasta, potatoes, and provola cheese—the kind of cheese we usually call “provolone.” All varieties of provola (there are many) are pulled-curd cheeses, like mozzarella, but after they are formed into pear shapes they are hung to dry, and sometimes smoked. Neapolitans have strong opinions on what makes a good dish of pasta, patate, e provola. As prepared by my Neapolitan friend Bruno di Rosa’s mother, Rita, it is considered a soup and eaten with a spoon. At L’Europeo it was definitely a pasta, dense and cheesy and full of flavor—with all the comforts of baked macaroni and cheese.
This pasta has some really big energy about it. It’s so extra, it’s the type of thing you should be eating in your bikini while drinking a magnum of rosé, not in Hebden Bridge (or wherever you live), but on a beach on Mykonos.
Among the top tier of sauces is Indonesian satay sauce, because it is the embodiment of joy and life. In fact, this sauce is also trustworthy and highly respectful of whatever it comes into contact with—perhaps it is, in fact, the perfect friend?
Turn humble onions into this thrifty yet luxe pasta dinner.
I should address the awkward truth that I don’t use butter here but cream instead. You could, if you’re a stickler for tradition (and not a heretic like me), add a big slab of butter to the finished curry.
Caramelized onions, melty Gruyère, and a deeply savory broth deliver the kind of comfort that doesn’t need improving.
A dash of cocoa powder adds depth and richness to the broth of this easy turkey chili.
Put these out at a gathering, and we guarantee you’ll be hearing rave reviews for a long time.
This is what I call a fridge-eater recipe. The key here is getting a nice sear on the sausage and cooking the tomato down until it coats the sausage and vegetables well.