Pici all'Aglione

Do you get food crushes? You know, that strange alimentary infatuation that makes you want to eat and prepare the same dish over and over?

The pici all'aglione I had on a lovely vineyard excursion in Tuscany on the weekend were so delicious, that I had to replicate the dish and eat it again today. And I might make it again before the week is over...

Pici all'aglione is a traditional Tuscan pasta dish, particular to the area around Siena. Pici are thick and rustic, homemade water and flour noodles, and the Aglione sauce is made with slow cooked tomatoes and a big quantity of garlic. It's perfect for vegan and vegetarian dinner guests, since there is no egg in the pasta, and no meat/fish in the sauce.

The birthplace of pici is the rural area of the Val d'Orcia, in the Crete senesi and the Valdichiana valley. This was a rustic, poor man's meal that was filling and whose preparation was traditionally entrusted to the women and children of the family.

Siena homemakers still make pici in their sleep, it's part of their DNA, but local grocers also sell the packaged kind. If you're lazy (like I was today) you can skip the pici-making instructions that follow, and cut straight to the sauce, using regular packaged spaghetti instead.

200 g (1 cup) all-purpose flour
200 g (1 cup) durum wheat flour
1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil + more for greasing
A pinch of salt
Lukewarm water

Mix both flours and salt and pour onto a work surface. Make a well in the middle of your mound and pour the olive oil in the "crater." Gradually add warm water a little at time, and mix everything until the dough is firm but flexible. The quantity of the water greatly depends on the way the two flours react. When rolled into a ball, the dough should not stick to the palm of your hand, rather fall out of your hand when you release your fist. If it sticks, you need to add more flour.

Cover the dough with cling film and allow it to rest for about an hour.

Roll out the dough on a slightly floured (preferably wood) surface to about 5 mm (1/4 inch) thick. Slightly grease the surface of the dough, this will prevent the pici from drying during the noodle rolling process, or – worse – stick together into tangled clumps (which will remain raw at the core during cooking!). The action that follows gives pici its name: the verb appiciare, which is dialect for 'stringing into noodles.'

Cut the flattened dough into 5 mm wide strips with a sharp knife or a pizza wheel cutter. Hand-roll the strips into thick, spaghetti-like strands. These should be about 3 mm (1/8 inch) thick and as long as possible, usually pick are as long as 30 cm (12 inches).

Gently smother the pici in a handful of cornflour (polenta) and string them on a tray lined with a kitchen towel.

Aglione (yields enough sauce for 400 g/14 oz of pasta, 4 servings)
8 garlic cloves (yes, you read correctly), peeled
4 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
4 Tbsp dry, white wine
800 g (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
Salt
1/2 Tsp sugar
400 g (14 oz) fresh pici-type pasta (or the fattest packaged spaghetti you can find)

Halve the garlic cloves and discard the inner (often pale green) sprout, and mince finely.

Film a large pan with olive oil and gently sauté the garlic – careful, it mustn't burn.

Add the white wine and cook the minced garlic on gentle heat, using the tines of a fork to further reduce the garlic to a paste.

Mix in the tomatoes, a large pinch of salt and the sugar.

Simmer the sauce on low heat for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon.

Cook the pici in a large pot of lightly salted boiling water, for about 3-4 minutes. Shortly before being al dente (about 1 minute), save a teacup of pasta cooking water and crank up the heat under the pot with the aglione sauce.

Drain the pasta and transfer it directly to the sauce, tossing from the pan handle to coat the strands completely in the sauce. Use some saved cooking water if you see the sauce is too "sticky" and needs more moisture.

Serve immediately, and in this case, hold the Parmigiano in favor of a light dusting of Pecorino.

 

Photo 2 courtesy of crumpetsandco.wordpress.com 

Ravioli Capresi

This past April I had the wonderful opportunity to visit the island of Capri during the off-season. When I gladly accepted the invitation of friends who offered accommodation, I did it with an agenda in mind.

I'm always eager to learn about traditional local cuisine, which is usually prepared using the produce and specialties grown and made on the premises. This is especially true when you're on an island. I had heard about ravioli capresi once before, but I had no idea what they were.

So I brought my Home Cooked crew with me and decided to conduct a little filmed research on the ancient and traditional island recipes of Capri, taught directly by the locals, on their turf.

So I found out that perfectly round pasta pockets filled with caciotta cheese, eggs and marjoram are Capri's signature dish. The ravioli are prepared according to an ancient recipe, handed down from generation to generation. Signora Assunta is the housekeeper of the Villa where I stayed, and she offered to let me watch as she created dinner with her hands, using just a few simple ingredients.
Here are her secrets.

For the ravioli dough:
500 gr (1.1 lbs) all-purpose flour
2 tbsp olive oil
500 ml (2 cups) boiling water

For the ravioli filling:
300 gr (1 1/3 cups) caciotta type cheese, grated
4 eggs
200 gr (1 cup) Parmigiano cheese, grated
Fresh marjoram

For the ravioli sauce:
Fresh tomato sauce
Parmigiano cheese, grated
Fresh basil
Extra virgin olive oil

Let's begin with the ravioli dough.
Place the flour in a mound on a flat, dry surface. I use my mother's wooden olive wood board; some prefer marble. Make a crater in the middle and pour the olive oil and hot water into it. Knead to obtain a compact, firm dough.

Break the eggs in a bowl and add the caciotta, Parmigiano cheese and the marjoram leaves. Work together with a fork, and refrigerate.

On your floured work surface, cut your ball of dough into 4 sections. Use a rolling pin to roll out the first quarter of the dough into a thin sheet, about 3mm (roughly 1/8 of an inch).

On half the sheet, place teaspoonfuls of the eggy cheese mixture, spacing the balls about 6 cms apart. Take the other half of the sheet and cover the first half. Proceed to separate the ravioli, cutting around each ball with either a ravioli cutter or a glass, with a diameter of roughly 2 inches.

Repeat this procedure with each of the remaining quarters of the dough.

Once you have finished making all your ravioli, place them on a kitchen towel without overlapping them.

Cook the ravioli in boiling water until they float to the surface.

Serve dressed with a simple fresh tomato sauce, a generous dusting of grated Parmigiano cheese, and a few fresh basil leaves. Uncork the chilled Falanghina and prepare to serve seconds.

Last image by lavandainterrazza

Homemade pasta, is it really worth it?

In my recent article published on Plum Deluxe, I share my thoughts on this subject, analyzing the pros and cons.

I'm a single mom, working three jobs, and trying to keep my child healthy by serving the best possible food, and swearing by traditional methods. On the other hand, there are really only 24 hours in a day, and sometimes it's not that easy to whip up homemade pappardelle on a school night.

Continue Reading ➔

Pasta butter and anchovies, or I take it all back, Baccano.

Summer. It's hot and muggy in Rome. The baby sitter is late and I have limited cab fare in my wallet, but I have to attend a new restaurant opening in Trevi for a story. The horde crowding both entrances is ridiculous. We make it inside, pushing through throngs of puffy lipped wannabe tv presenter girls and UVA tanned blokes with plucked lady eyebrows. It's 9 pm and it's hot, too damn hot to be this crowded.

I grab a glass of white wine from a roving tray, but can't make the oyster platter in time: a million hands reach forward and I've never had long arms. I manage to sieze a fried mozzarella ball from an abandoned corner of the bar, and bump into a couple of frazzled friends. So I find out the reason the place is so packed is that it's serving two social events in one night: a birthday party of a young actress (attracting fauna mentioned above); and the actual opening of the restaurant (attracting multitude of foodies, bloggers, journalists and dining celebs elevated to stardom status).

The decor is French inspired, and quite nice. Waitresses are all pretty, dressed like 1940 chamber maids, sporting LBDs, black pumps and a white sexy apron. The fourth wall in the kitchen is made of glass and overlooks the dining room. The tiles, newspaper racks and leather booths spell bistrot without italics. Despite the attractive ambiance, thanks to the chaos, I make a mental note to never come back here again.

This was the first impression Baccano made on me. But it was silly of me to think I could understand the true nature of a place on its opening night. Too over capacity, too soon in the trial stage, and too damn hot. On my first visit I hadn't tasted the food, I did not have a chance to really get a feel for the place, I did not peruse the wine list, I didn't even get a chance to take a look at the menu!

Today I have to strike that first impression, erase it completely. One because it was based on all the wrong elements, and two because on my second visit I actually ate well.

So here I am at 1pm, willing to rectify my bad judgement, with a reservation at Baccano. Reason is I absolutely have to taste the place's forte: pasta with butter and anchovies. "Burro e alici" is a classic Rome cucina povera snack: a morsel of crusty bread meets a curl of butter and an anchovy that's been steeping in olive oil. That's when life suddenly smiles at you. 

So when browsing the restaurant's lunch menu online I read that Baccano's signature dish – besides juicy 7oz burgers, eggs with shaved truffle (in season), salads, sandwiches, and daily specials that include foie gras, bollito misto and tripe – was tagliolini with Échiré butter and Spanish salted anchovies from the Mar Cantábrico, I had to go back for a second opinion.

Creamy, savory and perfectly al dente. I sopped my plate with bread and it returned to the kitchen clean. It was so good that I had to replicate it immediately at home. It turned out great.
I've been silent on this blog for 6 months, and now 2 recipes in 4 days. Don't say I don't spoil you. Two recipes in 4 days. I must be crazy.
Here is the recipe.

Tagliolini burro e alici like you find at Baccano
320 g (10 oz) fresh tagliolini (you can make it from scratch with this recipe)
8 oil-packed anchovy fillets + 1 for garnish on each plate
120 g (1 stick, or 1/2 cup) unsalted butter
Extra virgin olive oil

Once the pasta dough has rested and is ready to be rolled, dust your work surface with some flour or polenta (cornmeal) and use a well-dredged rolling pin to work the dough to a thickness of about 2 millimeters (about 1/8 of an inch).

Now roll up your flattened dough like a burrito and cut 1/2 cm slices, about 1/4 of an inch. Unravel the coils, dust with a bit more flour or polenta, and shape into nests the size of an egg. Allow a couple hours to dry.

Cook your fresh homemade pasta in plenty of lightly salted water at a jacuzzi-type rolling boil. Stir with a wooden spoon or a long fork quite often. This will ensure the pasta to remain springy and not clump together in clusters during cooking.

In a large saucepan melt the butter with a drop of olive oil and the 8 anchovies over very low heat. The butter has to slowly melt without ever bubbling, while the anchovies render a savory, creamy texture to the flavor.

When the pasta is al dente, drain it saving plenty starchy pasta cooking water, and pour the noodles straight into the condiment saucepan. Stir over mild heat to blend well, slowly adding a ladle of cooking water, to obtain even more creaminess.

Plate and garnish with an anchovy fillet on each heap.
Yields 4 servings.

Images © Andrea Di Lorenzo

Culurgiones recipe

Welcome back to Be my guest our series of guest recipes from around the world.
Today we meet Luke from Britain, who has a special bond with the emerald isle of Sardegna, and its glorious food.

Everyone loves eating Italian, but often food from Sardinia gets overlooked. Dishes vary from place to place on the island, as every village has their own special finishing touches and secret ingredients handed down from family and tradition.

Sardinian cuisine is heavily influenced by Italian continental cuisine with notable amounts of pasta, gnocchi, pizza oven baked bread, but shines in its own roasted meats, freshly caught fish, seafood concoctions and a wide variety of tasty Pecorino cheeses, often paired with locally farmed Sardinian honey.

Sardinian specialities include porceddu which is a spit-roasted suckling pig, baked slowly over hot coals for about 3 hours. There are also all sots of different types of home-made pasta dishes, often served with ricotta, or hundreds of varieties of local Pecorino cheese.

Culurgiones are famous traditional Sardinian stuffed dough pockets, whose name means, 'little bundles' which accurately describes these parcels of joy. Although a little tricky to make as the stitching process requires a little practice, the actual pasta base is easy enough to make and the cooking is minimal.

As with making any pasta from scratch, the key is patience, so it's best to set aside some time and enjoy the whole cooking process without worrying about the clock.

It is paramount to use the best ingredients for this dish in order to allow the simple flavours to shine.

You'll need the following ingredients to make the pasta base:
250 grams semolina
250 grams all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
100 grams warm water, more or less



Mix together the semolina, flour, olive oil and salt. Then slowly add the warm water a little at a time while kneading, until you obtain an elastic dough, which is manageable and supple. Form a ball, place in a bowl and keep covered for half an hour.

Next up you will need to make the filling for the Culurgiones, for which you will need the following ingredients:
4 medium sized potatoes
50 grams sheep's milk ricotta
50 grams Sardinian pecorino cheese, grated
Some fresh mint leaves, chopped
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 clove of garlic, minced

Boil the peeled potatoes in salted water until soft and fluffy. Once ready, rice the potatoes and stir in the cheeses, fresh mint and olive oil. Leave the filling to cool for an hour. If you are in a rush it's best to transfer the mashed potato mix from the pan to a mixing bowl, as this will speed up the cooling process.

Now that you have your pasta and filling for the Culurgiones, the next step is to prepare your dough and set up a production line for making them.

Roll out the pasta dough until quite thin and cut out 8-cm diameter circles, I often find a mug or cup is exactly the right size, and if you push the mug down into the pasta firmly, you won't need to cut around the mug, which can get a little tricky.

Once you have your circles of pasta, take a teaspoon and drop a small amount of filling on each disc. The next step is a little tricky and requires some practice.

Hold the disk in your hand and fold one side over the potato filling then pinch the middle of the fold with your finger and plait the two sides together. The pasta should be like braiding where one side rests on top of the other.

When you reach the top, pinch the final piece to ensure that no filling escapes. As you make more Culurgiones you will find the process a lot easier and hopefully they will look more and more like the genuine article. If you have made more Culurgiones than possible to eat in one go, they can be frozen and saved for later. When ready to cook, there will be no need to defrost first. This makes them ideal for a quick meal when you are pushed for time.

Boil the Culurgiones parcels in salted water for around five minutes until tender.

Traditionally the dish is accompanied with a simple tomato sauce, a sprinkling of pecorino cheese, some fresh mint, and a good bottle of local wine. Common recipe variations include the addition of onion in the filling, or seasonings like nutmeg or saffron.

Good luck and enjoy!

Luke is passionate about traveling and cooking, and works with Charming Sardinia a travel company that offers tailor made luxury holidays to Sardinia. He is crazy about food and spends most of his time sourcing quality ingredients and finding recipes to try out on friends.

Love the foods and traditions of Sardinia? Interested in reading more about it? Check out my articles (with recipes) on Pane Carasau, Malloreddus, Seadas typical dishes of Sardegna.

Tasting Tajarin

It felt like being in my Nonna's birthplace, the room smelled like wine, cheese and truffles. My Piedmontese roots came alive last night when I was invited at a lovely tasting event. Thanks to Beppe e i Suoi Formaggi for hosting, and Katie Parla for pulling the evening together, I had the chance to taste tajarin (a traditional Piedmont egg and flour long-strand pasta) in 7 ways, down divine French white wines, and even taste Barolo and Barbaresco, in the company of friends.

Mauro Musso has a terrific story, one that starts with him pulling off his supermarket employee uniform, and following the whim to create Casa dei Tajarin, an artisan pasta workshop he runs out of the ground floor of his parents' home in Alba.

Images © Katie Parla

His tajarin are made with rare flours from ancient autoctonous grains and cereals, only the best in biodynamic and GMO-free staples sourced from Mulino Marino, Italy's premier heritage grain supplier, and organic eggs. Mauro spoke briefly before the carb-fest that followed, and passionately told us how his main focus was to provide a healthy, all-natural version of the traditional pasta of Piedmont's Langhe region, with digestibility taking first place, even before flavor. But I can assure you that the taste of his tajarin is exceptional. The dressings were very mild and subtly brought out the different flavors of the flours used in each different tajarin kind we tasted.

Here's the menu:

Tajarin made with einkorn flour, dressed with Taggiasca olive oil and cracked black pepper.
No wine was paired with this dish in order to avoid interference with the flavor of the "Enkir" pasta.

Soft wheat tajarin called 'Gentil Bianco' dressed with Beppe's Alpine raw milk butter, and white Alba truffles. We drank Champagne Brut Chauvet Carte Blanche with this one.

Soft wheat tajarin called 'Rosso delle Langhe,' dressed in a mild stockfish sauce. The 2009 southern Burgundy Chardonnay Domaine des Fossiles Brinonnais was a pleasant first for me.

White rye eggless rolled pasta salad, with toasted nuts, and three varieties of cubed cheese (goat's–, sheep's– and cow's milk). We paired these to a 2007 German Weingut Tesch "Unplugged" Riesling.

More Einkorn flour tajarin tossed with mixed vegetables and thyme. The wine was a 2004 Friulano "Galea" by I Clivi di Corno di Rosazzo.

Next up was "Sapori Antichi" tajarin, a blend of Einkorn, spelt, kamut, and rye dressed in a rabbit ragù. I gobbled it up so fast, I forgot to take a picture. With the meat sauce, we switched to a 2004 Barbaresco "Montestefano" of Cantina Baldo Rivella.

The triple "Khorasan" flour tajarin with a 3-meat ragù was the last sample, and by this time I was tipsy, so I only had a sip of Barolo Cantina Giulio Viglione (2004).

The platter of mixed cheeses that followed, had a smear of organic fig jam, pomegranate kernels and walnut meats. Oh, and a slice of fresh pear. The Robiola, Torretta di Capra and the Toma were my favorites.


At midnight my babysitter started freaking out, so I sadly had to skip dessert, which was the typical Piedmontese Panna Cotta. I'm sorry I couldn't stay and chat with the other participants sitting in the other rooms, and mostly that I couldn't say good-bye to Mauro, the tajarin master.

It was great to learn about his small pasta operation, and it was a treat to share the meal and wine with such a wonderful group of friends, all with one thing in common: love for good food.

Flash cut to today at noon. I'm meeting a fellow blogger/foodie friend visiting from out of town at Bonci's Pizzarium, and guess who was delivering three crates of assorted tajarin to be sold at the famed pizza shrine?

Needles to say I managed to say good-bye this time.

Malloreddus recipe

The stunning island of Sardinia bears the marks of outsiders, from Phoenicians, Carthaginians and Romans to the seamen of Genoa, Pisa, and the Savoys who proclaimed the Kingdom of Sardegna. But Spaniards, who ruled for centuries before, lent the most pronounced accents to the language, food and wines. As a sum of all these influences, the cooking of Sardegna still remains as eccentric as the nuraghe, the prehistoric stone towers whose origins are still a rocky enigma.

Sardegna folks consume interesting quantities of dried pasta, in the familiar forms of spaghetti and maccheroni, though they also make the singular ravioli-like Culurgiones, toss Fregula buttons in their soups, and roll homemade semolina gnocchi called malloreddus, commonly described as the region’s most typical dish.

Here's the recipe to make them from scratch. Otherwise you can purchase them here.

800 g (4 cups) semolina flour
300 g (1 1/2 cups) warmed water
1 tsp powdered saffron
Salt

Mound the semolina and poke a hole in the top. Pour in the water, salt, and saffron in the crater, and using a fork, beat them together. Now begin to incorporate the semolina, starting with the inner rim of the volcano. When half of the semolina is incorporated, the dough will begin to come together. OK, now start kneading the dough, using the palms of your hands, mostly.

Discard any stray dried bits of dough and continue kneading for 10 more minutes, dusting the work surface with more flour if necessary. The dough should feel springy and a little bit sticky. Cover the dough with a clean cloth and allow to rest in a dusted bowl for 30 minutes at room temperature before using.

Cut the pasta into 4 parts. Roll each into a 1-inch snake, and cut into bolt-sized nuggets. Roll each piece on this tool, or down the back of a fork with your thumb to give it the characteristic ridges, and set aside on a floured surface until ready to cook.

Image © giallozafferano

For the sauce:

400 g (14 oz) canned tomatoes, crushed
200 g (1 cup) Italian sausage, peeled and minced
1 white onion, thinly sliced
A bunch of fresh wild fennel (can be substituted with fennel seeds if necessary)
Extra virgin olive oil
Lots of Pecorino or Fiore Sardo cheese, grated


Film a large skillet with a thread of olive oil, and lightly brown the sausage, when evenly colored, add the onion, and simmer over a low flame until translucent.

In a bowl, steep the chopped wild fennel in 1/4 cup olive oil and set aside.

When the onion and sausage have married, add the canned tomatoes and cook over mild heat for 45 minutes, stirring occasionally: do this for the pleasure of fogging up your glasses and inhaling the aroma. As every passionate cook knows, when you cook with love and pleasure, flavor and final outcome profit.

Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a rolling boil, cook your homemade malloreddus, and drain quite al dente. 

Drop the cooked pasta into the pan with the tomatoes, mixing well until well coated. 

Stir in the fennel marinade, and simmer over vivacious heat for another 3-4 minutes. 

Sprinkle 3 handfuls of grated cheese, and stir some more. Serve straight from the cooking pan onto hot plates, dusted with more grated Pecorino or Fiore Sardo, and a large smile on your face.

Agnolotti recipe

Agnolotti are a type of square ravioli typical of the Piedmont region, made with thinly flattened pasta dough, folded over and stuffed with a ground meat and vegetable filling. Typically, agnolotti are made with leftover cooked meat. This is another example of how the ages-old habit of recycling food in Italy commonly results in an elegant and very tasty dish.

My mother and I made a batch for Sunday lunch today. Here is the step by step recipe, which yielded 70 agnolotti pockets. We cooked half and froze the rest in sealed freezer bags.

For the pasta dough
500 g (2 1/2 cups) flour, possibly "00" + more for dusting
6 eggs
3 yolks

For the filling
400 g (2 cups) beef pot roast leftovers
150 g (3/4 cup) roast turkey, chicken or other cooked white meat dish
50 g (1/4 cup) mortadella, roasted sausage or any other pork cold cut (not prosciutto)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
A bunch of fresh spinach (you can use other greens if you like)
1 cup freshly grated Parmigiano
3 whole eggs
A pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
Salt and pepper

Make the dough from the flour and the eggs (see instructions if need be), put it in a bowl, cover it with a moist kitchen towel, and let it sit.

Blanch the greens for 3 minutes, drain, squeezing well to extract moisture, and mince them finely. Then sauté in the butter until done and set aside.

Remove bones, sausage casings and any sinewy parts, and grind the meats quite finely (you can blend them, but be careful not to make a paste!).

Combine ground meats, sautéed greens and all other ingredients for the filling in a bowl, and mix thoroughly with your hands to obtain a homogeneous mixture, seasoning to taste with salt, pepper and nutmeg.

Roll out the pasta dough dime-thin. I use an Imperia pasta machine, which gives me the necessary long and paper-thin sheets ready to be stuffed and cut into perfect agnolotti. But you're free to roll out the dough by hand, obviously!

Cut the rolled dough into long strips, about 20-inch long and 3 inches high, and cover to keep moist.

On your dusted work surface, dot a sheet with blebs of filling about the size of a small walnut, putting the dots in a row, about an inch apart. Make sure the row is in the bottom half of the pasta sheet.

Fold over the top part of the sheet, and lay it over the filling. Crimp the sheet down well around the filling to make it stick, and cut the agnolotti free with a serrated pastry wheel.

Boil the agnolotti in broth or salted water, fishing them out with a skimmer into a serving bowl, as soon as they rise to the bubbling surface.

Typically, Piedmontese agnolotti are dressed in beef broth with a little melted butter, or in a fresh sage and browned butter sauce. A complex condiment would play down the flavors contained in the agnolotti pockets.

I usually season mine with a simple tomato sauce, and dust with lots of freshly grated Parmigiano. As an alternative, you can dress your agnolotti with drippings from Braciole or Involtini.

Wine? This plate begs for a full-bodied, unoaked Piedmontese Barbera d'Asti!

Buon appetito.

Spaghetti al limone recipe

The welcome freshness of the lemons brings a whiff of spring in the bleakness of this rainy mid winter. If you decide to make homemade pasta from scratch for this recipe, your guests will have an extra reason to feel pampered.

500 g (1.1 lb) spaghetti
The juice of 2 unwaxed lemons
80 g (1/4 cup) cold, unsalted butter
Parmigiano Reggiano, finely grated

This dish will take 20 minutes to make. While you wait for the pasta water to boil with a fistful of coarse sea salt, cube the cold butter in small pieces, halve the lemons and finely grate the Parmigiano. No microplane for this, please use the classic cheese grater surface.

You'll be emulsifying the sauce in a large warmed bowl, so pour 1-2 ladles of starchy pasta water in the bowl to break the chill. Prep everything in advance because you'll be working quickly once the spaghetti is cooked.

Drain the spaghetti al dente with a pair of tongs (to retain pasta cooking water) and toss them into the bowl. Throw in the butter. Squeeze le lemons through a strainer to catch the seeds, tossing the squeezed halves in the bowl as you go. These will end up in the individual plates, too 

Work quickly: stir briskly using a wooden spoon to blend and coat the pasta, beating up the lemon halves as you do. This emulsifying phase will render a glossy, lemony, buttery coat to the spaghetti strands.

Plate quickly and pile a lot of finely grated Parmigiano Reggiano in each plate.

You can pair your lemony pasta with fruit-forward white wine and a veal second course, or a rich arugula salad with seasonal fruits, steamed prawns and flowers thrown in among the greens.

Buon appetito!

Gnocchi from scratch

You have to be patient.

Making gnocchi takes practice and persistance. At their best potato gnocchi can be delicate. At their worst, they turn ot dense, rubbery, or soggy. In the worst case scenario, the gnocchi fall apart in the boiling water before even meeting their condiment. I'm not trying to scare you off from making them, I just want you to know what you're in for. The trick is using a small quantity of egg to hold the potato/flour mixture together.

1 kg (2.2 lbs) russet potatoes
300 g (1 1/2 cups) all purpose flour
2 egg yolks, beaten
1 tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil
Salt

Boil the unpeeled potatoes 30-40 minutes (according to potato size) in lightly salted water, resisting the temptation to pierce them with a fork, this floods the potato structure with boiling water, thus damaging the dough.

Let the potatoes cool a bit then peel and mash them with a hand-powered mill or a ricer, straight into a bowl.

Once completely cool, mix them with the egg yolks and olive oil. Now sift the flour over the potatoes and mix it in with a wooden spoon. Do this with gentle movements, only until the flour is moist and the dough looks crumbly.

Pour the potato/flour mixture over a board dusted with flour and knead briefly as you would any other pasta dough.

Note: Over-kneading may make the dough tougher, so keep it to a minimum to obtain a uniform consistency, considering you'll be also dusting extra flour to prevent the dough from sticking to the work surface.

Cut a fist-size piece and roll it into ropes about 3/4-inch in diameter and use a knife to cut each into 3/4-inch buttons. Use your thumb to make an indentation in each piece. This can be achieved with the help of the back of a cheese grater or the tines of a fork, and it gives gnocchi a rough surface in which the sauce finds refuge. As you produce the gnocchi, moves them on a plate and keep going, fistful after fistful, until all the dough is used up.

Image © Foodnuveau.com

Technically all this can be done in advance, but it is better not to let too much time pass between the making and the cooking. While you're cutting the gnocchi, bring a pot of water to a rolling boil. Once all the gnocchi are ready, toss a dozen of them into the water and wait until they all surface. This takes less than 2 minutes, so it is important that your attention does not wander. Use a skimmer (or a slotted spoon) to fish the floating gnocchi out of the pot and place them in a bowl covered with a tight lid or plastic wrap, so the gnocchi keep warm. Repeat the casting-fishing routine until all gnocchi are cooked.

UPDATE:
For a splendid gnocchi tutorial, complete with extra information and a useful video, visit Foodnouveau – Merci, Marie!

La pasta!

Popular pasta shapes and types

It’s a vast world beyond fettuccine. Eclectic starchy carbo-nutrient and key meal staple in the Italian diet–whether home made or store bought–offers a mammoth choice in terms of different variations, sizes, colors, textures and shapes.

Regarded as a whole, pasta can be divided into three broad categories: pasta di semola di grano duro, made from durum wheat flour, water, and salt. Dried hard wheat pasta is the one most commonly sold in grocery retail stores. Then there's pasta all’uovo, which is made by mixing eggs and regular flour; and homemade pasta.

Homemade pasta is generally made with cake flour (which has less gluten) and eggs. Therefore, since durum wheat flour is not being used, the cooking time of homemade pasta is critical; if you leave it in the water to boil for too long, it will become wallpaper glue.

Extruded pasta all'uovo is made in smaller (usually neighborhood) factories by artisans whose chief concern is quality. The golden yellow pasta all'uovo is made with all purpose flour and eggs of corn-fed free range chickens.

Another pasta commonly extruded at local artisan pasta makers is the casareccia kind, (homestyle) which employs durum wheat flour, water, and salt (no egg).

Pasta that’s extruded is essentially forced through a bronze die, and then cut to the proper length and dried. The bronze die leaves helpful microstriations on the pasta dough, and the good thing about the rough surface of organic home produced or artisanal extruded pasta is that sauce and dressings will literally cling to the grain. Extra ridges, ripples and grooves are often added by commercial manufacturers to their pasta products to create that very same sauce-capturing effect. Conversely, smooth Penne and Ziti, for example, are intended for richer, chunkier sauces that don’t necessarily need to stick to the pasta.

Italians divide la pasta semantically into two basic groups: "long" pasta and "short" pasta. The long category includes Spaghetti, Spaghettini, Capelli d’angelo (literally, angel hair), Linguine, Fettuccine, Tagliatelle, Bucatini etc., intending all those foot-long strand, ribbon or noodle-type pastas.

The short pasta class includes Penne, Rigatoni, Gnocchi, Farfalle, Fusilli, Tubetti and so on.

Some shapes, that don't qualify for either of the long or short categories, are large enough to be stuffed and baked, and others, like soft egg Ravioli or Agnolotti, Tortelli, Cappelletti and Tortellini, come already stuffed.

Regional pastas would deserve a chapter of their own. Allow me to mention however that some regional pasta types have become enormously famous worldwide, like for example Orecchiette from Puglia, buckwheat Pizzoccheri of the Dolomites, Liguria's Trofie and the copious production from the Gragnano realm (near Naples). Some of the more modern varieties of regional pasta, like Scialatielli, and Paccheri (both hailing from Campania) are also quite popular.

Pasta normally is white-yellow or bright golden (depending on egg quantity) but other colors exist. By adding tomato, pumpkin, beetroot or spinach (or in some daring cases, squid ink) in the dough, the rainbow of colors available is virtually endless.

In some very kitsch Italian grocery/souvenir stores you can even purchase sex-themed short pasta shapes for aphrodisiac Isabel Allende-style orgy dinners or for dinner guests with an extravagant sense of humor. The choices are boundless, multicolor selections and variety male/female packs. I once brought penises in zucchini & basil sauce at a girls' night company potluck dinner and never got invited back.

Soup pasta is another sub category of short pasta and it features Stelline, Corallo, Semini, Tempestina (a close bleb relative of tapioca), Farfalline, Anellini, Quadrucci, etc. These perform their best in chicken soups, vegetable broths and Minestrone. On a cold night, the next best antidepressant to chocolate, is a steaming bowl of clarified chicken stock with a fistful of any of these, loads of Parmigiano and a warm blanket.

"Italians have only two things on their mind. The other is spaghetti."

–– Catherine Deneuve (at the time when she was married to Marcello Mastroianni)

Pasta is the pinnacle of the Italian food pyramid and Mediterranean diet. The miriad varieties of pasta are therefore not surprising. Of the 650 plus existing pasta varieties, I have illustrated only the few pivotal examples of Italian home-style cuisine. Here they are:

Agnolotti, Ravioli – Pockets of pasta dough stuffed with ground meats and/or vegetables. Can be round, squared or crescent shape, and each in different sizes.

Bavette, Trenette, Linguine – flattened long strand pasta, whose section is a rather flat ellipse. They love pesto.

Bigoli – extruded tube-like pasta similar to bucatini. The implement used to make them (bigolaro) is a beautiful object that the bigolatore sits on while extruding.

Bucatini – hollow spaghetti-like strands, part of the spaghetti extended family, which are commonly used with moderately thick sauces. Amatriciana defines bucatini. And viceversa.

Cannelloni, Crespelle – large sheet, tube or rolled crêpe-shaped pasta usually stuffed with condiments, béchamel, meat and vegetables. Used primarily in baked pasta dishes. Often, but not always all’uovo, i.e. with eggs.

Capelli d'Angelo, Capellini – Angel hair describes the long, delicate, extremely thin noodles. Because they are so fine, capelli d’angelo must be served either in a very light sauce or in a simple broth.

Cappelletti, Tortellini – Cappelletti is Italian for "priests' caps," while Tortellini were inspired by a sexy belly button. Whatever their name, these are small, twisted or crescent-shaped stuffed pasta filled with a cheese and prosciutto mixture. And they are to die for with Ragù alla Bolognese, with heavy cream & prosciutto, or–like tradition requires–mostly swimming in broth.

Cavatelli, Conchiglie, Pipe, Lumache – short, narrow, ripple-edged and seashell/snail shaped.

Ditali, Tubetti – thimble, stout tube-shaped soup pasta. Ideal for Pasta e Patate soup.

Eliche – round pinwheel shaped pasta, literally "propellers". Kids worship them.

Farfalle – bowtie shaped pasta. Due to their particular bunched up shape, they take forever to cook, about 16 minutes.

Fettuccine – long ribbon pasta, usually egg-based. Lovely and chewy, I love fettuccine...

Fusilli – corkscrew twists, "short" type pasta, excellent with a sautéed zucchini & pesto sauce.

Garganelli – rolled up, thin tube section pasta from Emilia Romagna. Divine when paired with a sausage, black pepper and cream sauce.

Gnocchi – hand made potato pillows. The rubbery commercial kind, I don’t like.

Gnocchi di Semolino – flat hockey puck-sized tapioca and cornmeal dumplings. Delish.

Lasagne – rectangular shaped sheets of pasta. Layered with ragù and grated Parmigiano, or pesto and béchamel then baked in the oven for 10 minutes and you’ll be moaning with pleasure.

Maccheroni – medium tubular "short" type pasta. A neverending love affair.

Malloreddus – Sardinian cavatelli-like pasta. Again the best are handmade.

Maltagliati – unevenly mix-matched broken shapes of assorted pasta.

Mafalde – ripple edged, large ribbon pasta named after Princess Mafalda of Savoy, which work quite well with rich sauces, like a braised wine and beef sauce.

Mezze Maniche – (literally, half sleeves) are stubby, fairly broad tubes that work quite well with chunky ragù, and mixed ortolana vegetable sauce (a simplified ratatouille). I own several necklaces made by my son with these.

Orecchiette – rough, ear shaped round shells, the size of a fingernail. The only truly viable ones are the homemade ones from Bari, but the store-bought kind, boasting the Puglia quality control stamp are OK too...

Paglia e Fieno – green and yellow colored fettuccine (the color is obtained with spinach and extra eggs added respectively to the dough).

Pansotti – meatless triangular shaped ravioli from Liguria. Stuffings include ricotta & spinach, mixed greens and shine when dressed in a creamy walnut sauce. Mmm...

Pappardelle – wide ribbon Fettuccine-type pasta. These broader strips are generally used for chunky sauces, like wild boar or hare ragùs. Most pappardelle are made with egg.

Penne – sharp edged tube section "short" pasta. Everybody loves penne.

Perciatelli – another (Neapolitan) name for bucatini.

Pici – Tuscan version of Venetian bigoli, again the best are home made. The most delicious I ever had were dressed in a rich boar sauce, served at a delightful restaurant in Siena called Gallo Nero.

Pizzoccheri – 3" long buckwheat tagliatelle. In Valtellina, home of Pizzoccheri, they are commonly boiled along with Swiss chard (Savoy cabbage) and cubed potatoes. This mixture is then drained and layered with chunks of local Casera cheese and grated Parmigiano, and then dressed with garlic and sage previously sautéed in browned butter.

Rigatoni, Sedani, Tortiglioni – large tube section "short" pasta, always ribbed. I make my spectacular Pasta alla Norma with these.

Spaghetti, Spaghetti alla chitarra, Spaghettini – long strand noodle-type pasta. The rulers of the pasta roost. The name of this blog is tightly connected to spaghetti...

Strozzapreti, Strangozzi – literally 'Priest Chokers,' are a hand-made cross between gnocchi, malloreddus and cavatelli.

Tagliatelle, Taglierini, Tonnarelli – thinner ribbon pasta than pappardelle, but thicker than fettuccine. These are obtained by flattening homemade pasta dough to a thin layer, then rolling like a giant burrito and consequently cutting it into curly tagliatelle ribbons.

Tortelli – Same shape as tortellini and cappelletti (see above), but in this case filled with either erbette (spinach or Swiss chard), potatoes, pumpkin; and most usually dressed in a simple browned butter and sage drizzle, or–only in the pumpkin tortelli case–pancetta fat drippings.

Trofie – hand rolled, chewy and slender squiggles. Usually boiled along with potato chunks and string beans and then tossed in with Ligurian pesto sauce. More mmm...

Vermicelli – thinner spaghetti, they cook in 5 minutes.

Ziti – long pipe-shaped pasta, broken by hand before cooking and usually topped with Ragù alla Genovese.

Each pasta shape has an ideal dressing. That much should be considered when choosing one particular type of pasta over another.

Go make some, hurry. I know you want it.

Image credits: riscossa.it - rachel eats - algont@wikimedia commons - sagrapappardella.net - buttalapasta.it - valeria verini - circleofmisse.com