What Becomes a Classic Most? Rewriting!

When Marcella Hazan set out to update her two classic books on Italian cooking, what she had in mind was revision. By the time she finished “Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking” three years later, what she had actually accomplished was more like a complete rewrite.

There were changes to reflect America’s new wealth of high-quality Italian ingredients--20 years ago, extra-virgin olive oil was almost unheard of in this country. There were changes in equipment--the first two books predate the food processor. There were organizational changes--rather than include menu suggestions with each dish, she now has a wide sampling of possible menus grouped together in the back. There were changes to reflect new tastes--most recipes are made with less fat--and new realities--she praises the quality of dried pasta and rails against commercial “fresh” pastas.

But in “Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking” (Alfred A. Knopf: $30; 688 pp.) there are changes that are even more basic. Recipes, including some of her best-known, have been reworked and rewritten. Pork loin braised in milk--a standard part of her cooking school repertoire for more than 20 years--has a dramatically different technique. Not even her father’s zuppa di pesce was safe; it now has twice as much shellfish as before.

“It’s not for me to say it, but if someone wanted to learn about Italian food--not just to cook it, but to eat it--this book will teach them,” says Hazan. “For me, this is a very serious book. This is what Italian food is all about now.

“Things have changed so much in America. I remember 20 years ago, to get fennel was something impossible. You had to go to Little Italy. Now, it’s in supermarkets all over the country. Olive oil was very bad. There was only one extra-virgin oil--Sicilian--and it was bad. Canned tomatoes were so bad I put sugar in my tomato sauces to make the tomatoes taste ripe.”

In Hazan’s first book, you won’t find radicchio . In the second, it is mentioned, but because of its scarcity, Belgian endive is suggested as a substitute. In the new addition, it has been elevated to a fundamental, and there is an in-depth discussion of the ins and outs of radicchio rosso di Verona, radicchio di Castelfranco, radicchio di Treviso and even tardivo di Treviso.

Things have advanced to the point that there’s even a recipe for bottarga --pressed fish roe (though Hazan is quick to point out it should be the smaller, tear-shaped roe of the gray mullet, or muggine , not the more common big, brick-shaped tuna, which she finds salty and forward).

“I honestly wasn’t going to include it,” she says, “but then I said to myself, come on Marcella, put it here because one day bottarga will arrive like everything else has.”

Many of the differences between Italian cooking in this country then and now are directly attributable to Hazan. Her first cookbook, “Classic Italian Cooking”--the one whose dust jacket is plastered with adoring quotes from the likes of James Beard and Craig Claiborne--was published in 1973. For most Americans it was the first clue that there was more to Italian cooking than pizza and red sauce.

There have been many Italian cookbooks since, but Hazan’s is still the one the best are compared to. Even today, she is in such demand that her cooking school in Venice has a year-long waiting list for people anxious to pay more than $1,700 to spend five days with her--transportation and lodging extra.

“You know, I dedicated this book to my students, and there is a very good reason,” she says. “This book is the result of cooking with people who don’t know how to cook. They’re the ones who brought me to change some things to make them more clear.”

Take, for example, the pork loin braised in milk. In the original recipe, the pork was browned and the milk was added all at once.

“After 24 years of teaching that recipe,” she says, “I realized that the meat was getting tough and the milk was not getting enough time to color consistently.”

So she added the milk in different stages, one cup at the beginning to allow it to brown more and then, after an hour, another cup. Finally, after another half-hour, a final half-cup. These measured additions keep the meat moist.

Even the polenta--sacred to her adopted home of Venice--was altered. As an alternative method, she now recommends making polenta without the endless stirring the original recipe required. With a lid on the pot, the stirring can be reduced to once every 10 minutes.

“I learned this from a woman who has worked with me for years,” she says. “One day she was making polenta and I walked into the kitchen. I saw this covered pot and she wasn’t stirring it or even paying much attention. I shouted at her. I said ‘Maria, what are you doing? You are going to ruin this polenta.’ She told me this was the way they made it in the Veneto, where she was from, and that she had never stirred the polenta the entire time she had worked for me.

“So I put her beside me and we both made polenta--me stirring all the time and her stirring from time to time. She was right. There was almost no difference. And then I got mad at her for taking 17 years to say this to me.”

The whole veal shank, stinco , was similarly changed. The first book recommended browning onions, then browning the veal on top of the onions. But, her students complained, by the time all that browning was done, the onions were burned black. Now, the meat is browned first, the onions are added later and everybody’s happy.

“What a very simple thing it is to make life much easier and the result much better,” she says.

“The cut of meat specified here includes rib bones to which the pork loin is attached. Have the butcher detach the meat in one piece from the ribs and split the ribs into two or three parts. By having the loin boned, you can brown more thoroughly. If you cook it along with the bones, the roast will benefit from a substantial contribution of flavor.

“Another cut of pork well suited to this dish is the boneless roll of muscle at the base of the neck, sometimes known as Boston butt. There is a layer of fat in the center of the butt that runs the length of the muscle. It makes this cut very juicy and tasty, but when you carve it later, slices tend to break apart where meat adjoins fat. If this isn’t a problem, consider using butt because of its excellent flavor and juiciness. Should you do so, substitute 2 pounds in one piece for a 2 1/2-pound rib roast.

“Do not have any fat trimmed away from either cut of meat. Most will melt in cooking, basting the meat and keeping it from drying. When the roast is done, you will be able to draw it off from the pot and discard it.”

PORK LOIN BRAISED IN MILK, BOLOGNESE STYLE 1 tablespoon butter 2 tablespoons oil 2 1/2 pounds pork rib roast Salt Freshly ground pepper 2 1/2 cups, or more, whole milk

Combine butter and oil in heavy-bottomed pot that can later snugly accommodate pork. Place pot over medium-high heat. When butter foam subsides, add rib roast, fat-side down. As it browns, turn, continuing to turn every few moments to brown evenly all around. If butter begins to become very dark, lower heat.

Season to taste with salt and pepper and add 1 cup milk. Add milk slowly lest it boil over. Bring milk to simmer 20 or 30 seconds, then turn heat to low. Cover pot with lid slightly ajar.

Simmer about 1 hour, turning meat occasionally, until milk has thickened, through evaporation, into nut-brown sauce. When milk reaches sauce stage, add 1 more cup milk. Let simmer about 10 minutes, then cover pot tightly with lid. Simmer 30 minutes, turning pork occasionally.

Set lid slightly ajar and continue simmering until milk evaporates from pot, then add remaining 1/2 cup milk. Continue cooking until meat is tender and milk coagulates into small, nut-brown clusters, 2 1/2 to 3 hours. If liquid evaporates before meat is fully cooked, add another 1/2 cup milk, repeating if necessary.

When pork is tender and milk has thickened into dark clusters, transfer meat to cutting board. Let meat stand few minutes, then cut into 3/8-inch thick slices. Arrange slices on warm serving platter.

Tip pot and spoon off most fat, being careful to leave behind all coagulated milk clusters. Add 2 to 3 tablespoons water. Boil away water over high heat while using wooden spoon to scrape loose cooking residues from bottom and sides of pot. Spoon all pot juices over pork and serve immediately. Makes 6 servings.

Each serving contains about: 410 calories; 159 mg sodium; 80 mg cholesterol; 33 grams fat; 5 grams carbohydrates; 22 grams protein; 0 fiber.

“Stirring polenta in an open pot for the entire time it cooks undoubtedly yields the best product, mostly in terms of pure fragrance, and to a certain -- but lesser -- extent in terms of overall flavor. It is nonetheless possible to make very good polenta with hardly any stirring. It will take the same amount of time but will free you from the stove for the better part of an hour.”

POLENTA 7 cups water 1 tablespoon salt 1 2/3 cups coarse-grained imported Italian yellow cornmeal

Bring water to boil in large, heavy pot.

Add salt and keep water boiling at medium-high heat. Stirring constantly with whisk and keeping water at boil, add cornmeal in very thin stream, letting fistful run through nearly closed fingers. (Individual grains should be seen spilling into pot.)

Stir with long-handled wooden spoon 2 minutes, then cover pot. Adjust heat to simmer. Cook polenta 10 minutes. Uncover pot and stir 1 minute. Cover again and simmer another 10 minutes. Stir again, then cover. Let cook another 10 minutes, stir once more, and in 10 minutes, repeat procedure. Cornmeal becomes polenta when it forms mass that pulls cleanly away from sides of pot.

Moisten inside of 8- to 10-cup bowl with cold water. Turn polenta out of pot and into bowl. Let stand 10 to 15 minutes. Turn bowl over onto wooden block or large round platter, unmolding polenta, which will have dome-like shape. Makes about 4 cups, or 4 servings.

Note : As it begins to cool, polenta should be thick, and when moved, firm enough to quiver. From an Italian point of view, it is least appealing when it is as thin and runny as breakfast oatmeal.