Domenica Marchetti

Making mostarda is an art and a process. It requires poaching fruit—either whole, large pieces, or sliced—in syrup over the course of several days, until it is saturated and beautifully translucent. Once this candying process is completed, mustard essence is stirred in drop by drop until the mostarda is sufficiently spicy—spicy enough to make your eyes water! The type of fruit depends on what’s in season, but quince, pears, apples, melon, and figs are all good candidates. Of all those, I prefer pears, which take beautifully to the candying process without (by some miracle) turning mushy at all. Although traditional mostarda is made with small whole or halved fruits, I cut the pears into thin slices, as I find the large pieces unwieldy.

Crisp and buttery, they are layered with bright flavor from lemon juice, zest, and extract.

Although you can enjoy this salad at any time of year, I find that its refreshing crunch is especially welcome in winter, when the foods we (or at least I) eat tend to be of the rich, stick-to-your-ribs sort, such as stews and braises, or oozy baked pasta dishes. 

Every now and then I like a salad with attitude. This one has it, with its mix of assertive, crunchy radicchio, pungent anchovy-lemon dressing, and crispy croutons. Serve it with a rich main course such as Vegetable-Stuffed Pasta Shells or Crêpe Cannelloni with Mushrooms and Zucchini.

Ingredients

Recipe: Spinach Codette with Sausage and Peas

The first time I ate codette was in 1994, at Ristorante Plistia, in the National Park of Abruzzo, during a trip to Italy with my husband and my parents. The word codette translates to “little tails,” but when the restaurant’s proprietor, Cicitto Decina, brought a platter of these emerald green beauties to our table, we thought the plate was piled with steamed green beans! What a delicious surprise when we tasted the tender-chewy strands of spinach pasta freshly made by Cicitto’s wife, Laura del Principe, and demurely dressed with a sauce comprised of local sausages and peas. From that moment, Plistia became my favorite restaurant. It still is.