Fall

It seems that the muffuletta sandwich originated in Sicily, set on what most likely was flatbread sprinkled with sesame seeds. And since the Sicilians were the first mass wave of immigration to the port of New Orleans, it would seem that the soft sesame-seed bread of the muffuletta is an American cousin of the bread of the pane ca’ meusa (spleen sandwich) still sold in Palermo markets today. This meatless rendition of the muffuletta was made on All Souls Day; the one with the cold cuts and salad is served on more festive days.

I had this sandwich in Baltimore, in a small, quaint mom-and-pop shop in Little Italy. Turkey is not too popular in Italy. After all, it was brought back to Europe after the discovery of America, and in Italy chicken and rabbits ruled the roost, along with other courtyard animals. In America, though, the turkey is the celebrated and celebratory animal, the one that fed famished early explorers coming to America. Well, this is a great sandwich to make on the days following Thanksgiving—or anytime, for that matter. The condiment and the greens are the Italian part, and the turkey is the American part—the perfect Italian American civic club sandwich.

Escarole is in the chicory family, the bitter dark-green vegetables that Italians love. Escarole played such a big role in the cooking of Italian Americans because it seemed to be one of the few chicory vegetables available here in the States. It is a very versatile and inexpensive vegetable as well: easy to grow, resilient to cooler weather, and giving a large yield per head. The outer leaves can be used in soups, braised with garlic and oil, or stuffed; the tender center white leaves are great for salads. This is an Italian recipe, but the ingredients are adapted to include the local ingredient kale, much loved and eaten in the States.

A Family Custom: Roasted Chestnuts to Finish the Feast: I love to prepare hot roasted chestnuts for the family after a big autumn meal, as a special treat of the season. While everyone’s talking and drinking coffee at the table, the chestnuts “roast” in a big skillet right on the stovetop. When they’re done—it takes bout 20 minutes—I pile the chestnuts on a big platter and serve them with grappa we make at our Bastianich vineyard in Friuli.

This simple quince preserve is a specialty in many Italian regions. It seems to have its origins in the fourteenth century, when some of the most noted were from Reggio Emilia and Genova. The translucent, pastel fruit in a jellied syrup is a delightful accompaniment to all sorts of sweet and savory dishes. If you have a large batch of fresh quince, just multiply this recipe and make a big pan of cotognata. It will keep for a month refrigerated. Pack it in little jelly jars and give as a gift: cotognata is a colorful and delicious way to introduce others to the pleasures of quince!

Castagne al vino are a delightful reminder from Maremma that the simple pleasures of rustic life are truly irreplaceable. Roast some chestnuts, and while they are still hot, wrap them in a wine-soaked cloth . . . wait a few minutes . . . then peel and enjoy them with a glass of wine. The question is: red or white wine? The maremmani enjoy, as I do, red wine, a good Morellino. But white wine is also delicious.