Sunday night supper–the words conjure a rainy, homey evening with just the family, a crusty chicken pot pie or a hearty beef stew served with a simple wine. In actuality, at our house, Sunday night supper takes place several nights a week.  When we are alone, we cook simply. Ed makes a huge soup twice a week in winter–vegetable, or kale / sausage / cannelini bean, or a chicken, rice, and green bell pepper. That’s lunch every day.  A few things we regularly make for dinner: chicken with forty cloves of garlic, risotto with shrimp and fennel, baked pastas, polenta and sausage, pot roast, lemon chicken, eggplant parmigiana–lots of eggplant dishes–grilled sole or whatever fish swims by, and omelets.

Omelets are so wonderful on last-minute nights and we finally learned how to make a glorious one from watching a Jacque Pepin video. His omelet is so tender, light, and well-formed. Mine had been more like the sole of a ballet slipper. I learned to hit the pan, jiggle, and scramble with gusto. Watch him and rejoice:

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/19/dining/jacques-pepin-demonstrates-cooking-techniques.html?_r=1

At the last instant, I fill the omelet with chopped cherry tomatoes, olives, and parmigiano.

We love to make pici, the favorite pasta of Cortona. When our cookbook comes out, you can learn how easy it is. We use fava beans when they’re in season, but pici is happy to marry asparagus instead. Both the asparagus and the pici are al dente, so the textures are compatible.  Good olive oil–you know I’m fanatic about that–and some parmigiano–you’re done. This is a tasty pasta, perfect for any night:

Often on quick nights, we throw together Fiorella’s Red Pepper Tart. She’s our neighbor in Cortona and one of the world’s best cooks. Almost everything she serves comes from the garden or woods. She did admit that for this instant tart, she uses a ready-made pie crust. I’ve used those a few times in Italy and they’re good. If you know of an American brand, let me know. I tried one and it was vile and had palm oil in it.  Anyway, the red pepper tart, with an arugula salad, seems right for Sunday night–or to cut in slivers for an antipasto platter.

In Italy, Sunday is THE night for pizza. Most people have enjoyed an elaborate Sunday pranzo, so at night it is popular to go out for pizza. Here in NC, we make pizza and foccacia in the oven. It does not look or taste like the pizza we pull out of our outdoor forno in Tuscany but it’s still good.

We use these cross sections from chestnut logs a lot. This is rustic pizza just out from its inferno. In contrast, is the more well-behaved version from our U.S. oven:

Writing all this gives me pangs for Tuscany.  Winter from our mountain house looks like this:

Those two extinct volcanoes on the horizon often seem to float above the fog. That’s Cortona on the hill closer in. The lavender walk is in summer full of butterflies. If we were there now, friends coming over, supper would look likely be roast chicken and guinea hen, roasted vegetables and potatoes, green beans.

But here we are in mild North Carolina, spending the weekend on garden chores, planting a few bare root roses, admiring yellow crocuses, converting a sad perennial bed to lawn, doubtless pulling a muscle while hoisting big pots. We’ve already discussed Sunday supper because we have a bunch of quail to slow roast with juniper berries, vin santo, and pancetta. Here’s what it looks like.

Incredibly easy, this quail covey tastes intensely savory. We serve it on a bed of cheese grits, the first cousin to polenta. Most things I’m describing will be in the cookbook. We have one early copy. Ed said, “I can’t wait till its all stained with tomatoes and fingerprints, and crumbs drop out of the middle.”

Buona Domenica. Happy Sunday.

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