Veal

Wrapping one food with another is familiar, especially if meat, cheese, or vegetables make up the filling—think of ravioli, stuffed cabbage, or egg rolls. Making meat the wrapping is a nice role reversal, a neat twist that is extraordinary enough to allow a simple preparation to wow a crowd. Such is the case with the Japanese negima, in which beef is wrapped around chives or scallions, then brushed with soy sauce and grilled.

A Norman recipe, easily identified with the region because of the combination of dairy and meat. It may sound overly rich, but pork is so lean these days that the added fat is welcome, and the taste is incredible. A wonderful dish for midwinter; serve it with simple boiled potatoes or rice and a steamed vegetable. Other cuts of meat you can use here: veal chops or bone-in chicken breasts.

Wiener schnitzel, one of Austria’s most famous culinary exports, is traditionally made with a pounded out boneless veal chop, though at $15 to $16 per chop (also per serving) it’s a lot more feasibly reproduced with cutlets. If the cutlets you buy are thicker than those called for here, pound them gently between two sheets of wax paper using the bottom of a small saucepan. And if you opt for the more opulent—but not necessarily better—veal chops, you may want to have two skillets going at the same time, as a properly flattened boneless veal chop will be 8 to 9 inches in diameter and you’ll have to cook them one at a time. You can, of course, follow this recipe using chicken, turkey, or pork cutlets.

These rolls take some time and require a bit of assembly—not that there’s anything especially challenging—so I always feel like if I’m going to bother with them, I might as well make a big batch and double the amounts here. In any case, you can prepare the rolls in advance and cook them just before serving. I cook the rolls in a mixture of stock and wine (you could use either instead of both), but many cooks use a light tomato sauce for simmering, like Fast, Fresh Tomato Sauce (page 606). The filling can be varied, too: substitute ground pork or pork sausage for the mushrooms or use a bit of mozzarella instead of or along with the Parmesan. Other cuts of meat you can use here: cutlets of chicken, turkey, pork, or even beef (see Negima, page 102).

This classic Hungarian dish employs paprika liberally, but it does not overpower the dish, because the spiciness is tempered by the sour cream. This is good over buttered noodles or rice or with bread.Other cuts of meat you can use here: cutlets or chunks of pork, chicken, or turkey.

Although this stew has much in common with the humble American beef stew, it is legitimately Japanese and wonderfully flavored with soy, ginger, mirin (the Japanese sweet cooking wine, for which sugar or honey is an adequate substitute), winter squash, and, perhaps best of all, the peel and juice of a lemon. The combination is one of simple and delicious counterpoints that make this a great stew. Ambitious cooks may want to include dashi, the quickly made stock that is one of the most fundamental flavors of Japanese cooking, but the stew is great when made with chicken stock or, for that matter, water. Other cuts of meat you can use here: short ribs (which will require longer cooking time), bone-in chicken thighs (which will cook more quickly), veal shoulder or round.

The combination of lamb, thyme, garlic, and lemon is so perfect that this dish—simple as it is—is among my favorites. Needless to say, the slow-cooked potatoes, stewed in the pan juices, become rather fabulous. Other cuts of meat you can use here: boneless lamb or pork shoulder or shoulder lamb chops, all of which will cook more quickly than the shanks; short ribs; beef chuck or brisket; veal shank (osso buco).

A fairly quick stew—some would call it fricassee, but that term is so widely used as to be meaningless—that gives you loads of uncommon flavor for very little work. Great with polenta (page 529), which you must call mamaliga in this instance. Other cuts of meat you can use here: pork shoulder.

A longtime symbol of cuisine bourgeois—the simple, hearty home cooking of France (which is more valuable to most of us than haute cuisine, the four-star stuff)—this is an immensely satisfying dish and quite straightforward. Serve it over white rice or with crusty bread.

Think of this as osso buco, Russian style; the technique is almost identical to that in the following, better-known classic, but the result is sweeter and more fragrant. Serve with pilaf or buttered noodles. If you are lucky enough to find fresh sour cherries, by all means use them; pit about a pound and add them to the pan as you would bottled sour cherries, along with about 1/4 cup sugar and a bit more stock. Other cuts of meat you can use here: as in classic osso buco, you will lose something by substituting chunks of boneless veal for the shank, but you will gain time, and the results will still be quite good.

One of the greatest Italian dishes and, when done properly (it takes time; do not rush), one of the best meat dishes you can make. The marrow-filled veal shanks (the name means “bone with hole”) practically cook themselves after the initial browning and seasoning. (And the dish holds well enough overnight so you can cook almost the whole thing in advance.) Buy center-cut shank, about 1 1/2 inches thick. (The slices from the narrow end have very little meat; those from the thick end contain little or no marrow.) The mixture of garlic, lemon zest, and parsley stirred in at the last minute, known as gremolata, is a lovely little fillip, but consider it optional. Serve, classically, with Risotto alla Milanese (page 521) or a simpler, leaner rice dish. Other cuts of meat you can use here: it will not be osso buco, but a veal stew made with chunks of veal shoulder in the same style, with the same ingredients, is quite good and considerably faster.

The most difficult part of making negima, the popular Japanese appetizer in which meat is wrapped around scallions or chives, is slicing the meat thin enough. You can ask your butcher for ultra-thin-cut sirloin, and you might get it, but it’s probably easier to use pork, chicken, or veal, all of which are regularly sold as thin cutlets. With a little gentle pounding, they’re thin enough, and the process becomes easy.

In general, these are milder than Italian-style meatballs (Polpette, page 53), with cooked onion and no garlic or cheese. Often served with a cream sauce (and lingonberries), they can be made without one, skewered on toothpicks, and passed at parties. A combination of pork, veal, and beef is best here, but if I had to choose only one meat it would unquestionably be pork.

Unlike the preceding Italian meatballs, these are strongly flavored with garlic, contain no cheese, and are spiked with almonds. They are unusual and great served on a toothpick with a glass of sherry.

Needless to say, you can put these in almost any tomato sauce (pages 606–607) and use them for spaghetti and meatballs. But they’re often served in Italy as a small first course, sometimes over cabbage. I like the combination of veal and pork best, but you can use any combination you like or even all beef.

This sauce seems like a chore, but once you get everything in the pot, it simmers and cooks on its own and yields enough sauce for several luscious meals. (It also freezes well.) When unexpected guests arrive, just cook some pasta and you have dinner ready. What makes this meat sauce unique is the cinnamon, which adds an unexpected, unidentifiably delicious flavor. The kids absolutely love it with gnocchi.

Veal piccata is a familiar dish in most Italian American restaurants across America: thin slices of veal briefly sautéed in butter with some lemon juice added to it. In this recipe, however, I added some capers, green olives, and thin slices of lemon. It brings much more body, flavor, and complexity to the dish. Chicken and turkey scaloppine are also delicious prepared this way.

This is the quintessential Italian American dish: from the 1950s through the 1980s, every Italian restaurant had it on the menu. It is still one of America’s favorite dishes and is easy to make. The important part of the recipe is to begin cooking the meat and mushrooms separately, then combine them at the end so the flavors blend. Marsala is the special ingredient in this dish. Around the city of Marsala, Malvasia, a varietal of a very aromatic grape, grew in abundance. Wine has been made from this varietal for centuries, and the English took note of it and began importing it. The history of England and the New World needs no retelling, and this is most likely how Marsala made it across the pond. When the Sicilian immigrants settled in America, and rediscovered it, it was a natural reunion.

Veal saltimbocca, which literally translates as “jumps in the mouth,” hails from Rome. It is rather simple, but simplicity is hard to achieve. In the late 1960s, when I worked in Italian restaurants to help pay for my college tuition, veal saltimbocca was always on the menu but never tasted like it did in Rome. The important flavor ingredients here are the prosciutto and the fresh sage. The early immigrants were curing hams into prosciutto at home, which eventually developed into formal businesses, such as the Volpi & Co. in St. Louis, now known as Volpi Foods. In those days, fresh herbs were hard to find—unless you were Italian and grew them at home. By the time I opened Felidia in the 1980s, fresh herbs were coming to the supermarkets, and by the 1990s, Prosciutto di Parma began crossing the ocean, so now the saltimbocca has regained its true flavors. So, unless you use fresh sage, skip it.

In America, meat was plentiful, and combining good veal shanks with lots of vegetables and herbs and simmering it for hours results in fork-tender meat nestled in a complex and savory sauce. Osso buco, literally translated as “a bone with a hole,” is a dish that originated in Milan. A favorite then, it still outsells many other meat choices on the menu at Becco, Lidia’s KC, and Lidia’s Pittsburgh. Serve this dish with an espresso spoon—or, even better, a marrow spoon—so that your guests can scoop out the marrow as the ultimate delicacy.

This dish is traditionally made with veal, but is also delicious when made with pork or chicken. However, the best way is with tender veal chops, pounded while still on the bone, then boned, breaded, and fried. Served on the bone is a bit more expensive than the boneless-leg cut, so, if you want to splurge, by all means buy 4 or 6 chops to make this recipe. In restaurants in Milano most likely you would be served Milanese on the bone.

This is a unique rendition (and spelling) of veal parmigiana that I had in Rigazzi’s, one of the oldest restaurants on The Hill in St. Louis. It exemplifies the frugality and the ingenuity of those early immigrants. Instead of expensive veal cutlets, they ground lesser, tougher cuts of veal, then shaped them and treated them like a veal cutlet; the result was delicious and tender! At Rigazzi’s, it was the special of the day when we visited.

Poached veal tongue is one of the ingredients in the classical Italian dish bollito misto, boiled mixed meats. It is one of my favorite dishes, but even without the other four or five meats I enjoy the poached tongue. The brining somewhat cures the meat and makes it retain the lively pinkish color throughout.

This recipe will seem long to you, but read it through once or twice and it will become very clear that all we are doing is stuffing a piece of meat, roasting it, and making gravy to serve it with. That’s something I’m sure you have done any number of times—only in this case it is a breast of veal, which will yield delicious results. Breast of veal—bone-in breast specifically—is another wonderful meat cut that I hope you come to love as much as I do. Like the preceding shoulder cuts, it has a good deal of connective tissue, bones, and cartilage, which contribute to the flavor and texture of the meat, especially during long cooking. Because it comes from young animals, the ribs in the breast are just developing: there’s lots of soft cartilage, and you can just pull out the ribs after cooking, so serving and slicing are convenient. Stuffing the breast is the fun part. The muscle layers easily separate and hold a generous amount of savory filling; then, when it’s cooked and sliced, the cross sections of meat and stuffing make a beautiful presentation. It looks like an eye, with the meat as the lids. If you’ve tried any of the other roasts in this chapter, the procedure here will be familiar: covered roasting for tenderness and flavor, dry roasting for deep color and crisp textures—and developing a great sauce at the same time. The only difficulty you may find with this recipe is getting a nice big piece of veal breast, preferably the tip cut. It’s not always easy for me either, as you’ll understand when you read the box and study the technique photos here and on page 357. But if we all keep asking our butchers for veal-breast tip cuts, they’ll get the message—we want those excellent, traditional cuts of meat, and we want to stuff them ourselves!