This recipe for Fillet of Sole with Piquant Tomato Sauce from The Classic Italian Cookbook begins with an opinion (natch). But, no! With Marcella, you can cook your fish and eat it deliciously, too. Whether it’s fear of (over)cooking or the “aroma” it can leave behind, fish is more often left to the domain of restaurant chefs than prepared at home. The sea presents a daunting conundrum for many cooks. And so it’s #marcellamonday on my Ciao Donata blog. Were I to share a shot of whiskey with someone, it would be Marcella. When I want to be inspired, I turn to Marcella. When I have a question about or a craving for a specific Italian dish, I go to Marcella. Like Marcella, they smoked, enjoyed a nip here and there, and if they ruled a question stupid (they were usually right), they flicked a finger at your head or rapped your hand with a spoon. When I watched her on television, her deep, raspy voice made the cat jump. I’ve always been attracted to friendships with women who are feisty, outspoken and opinionated. She was, and eternally will be, a gifted teacher. Her straightforward, clear recipes and spot-on tips, observations, and advice make Italian cooking, well, easy. That formula is easier said than dunked but with Marcella at your elbow, the layup is easier.

Marcella not only hoisted the spoon (and fork and knife) in honor of Italian cooking but she celebrated its essence, too: Quality ingredients + simple preparation = brilliance. From the mild and pleasant Ligurian coast where “ flowers abound, the olive begins to flourish, and the fragrance of fresh herbs invades nearly every dish” to hot and dry Naples where “the colors of the vegetables are intense and violent, the pastas are so pungent that they often need no topping of cheese,” The Classic Italian Cookbook lauded Italy as a sum of its #dolcevitadelish parts. Marcella redefined Italian cooking as a cuisine of regions rather than a country. I was, however, held culinary hostage in Puglia, my family’s ancestral home. Having grown up in an Italian family, I was well aware that Italian cooking rose above the red sauce and canned Parmesan impressions that much of America harbored during my childhood. One day I was helping unpack a shipment of books, and the cookbook revealed itself in all its Italian glory. I spent a lot of time at Alambique in Madrid, the cooking school and cookware store owned by my friend, Clara Maria Amezua de Llamas. I came upon her first cookbook, The Classic Italian Cookbook, when I was living in Spain, of all places, and interning at an Italian restaurant, of all places. I never had the pleasure-slash-privilege of meeting Marcella Hazan, yet I can attest to her companionship in my kitchen for 25-plus years.

Italian cooking marcella hazan