Contents

List of Pasta Drawings
Introduction

PASTA AND VEGETABLES

Making Tomato Sauce
Matching Pasta with Sauce
On Measuring
Some Basic Information for Cooking Pasta
General Quantities to Keep in Mind When Shopping for Pasta Sauce Ingredients
Cooking with Garlic and Olive Oil
Classic Italian Vegetable Sauces
Pasta with Spring and Summer Vegetables: Warm-Weather Cooking
Pasta with Fall and Winter Vegetables: Cold-Weather Cooking
Vegetable and Cheese Fillings for Pasta

PASTA AND FISH

Some Good Fish to Cook with Pasta
Fish Soups and Stews
Fish and Vegetables with Pasta

PASTA AND MEAT

Long-Simmered Meat Sauces for Pasta
Ragùs
Pasta with Meat Fillings

THE IMPROVISER'S PANTRY

GOOD ITALIAN CHEESES TO USE WITH PASTA

MAKING FRESH PASTA

BROTHS FOR PASTA SOUPS AND FOR ENRICHING PASTA SAUCES

Mail-Order Sources
Bibliography
Acknowledgments
Index

Introduction

I loved my family's southern Italian American cooking when I was a child, and even back then, before I was aware of where it all came from, I was proud to invite my friends over for a dinner of lasagne layered with ricotta and my mother's long-simmered meat sauce.

My family also ate out a lot, almost exclusively at Italian restaurants, and I always ordered pasta. That was where I first learned that the world of pasta went beyond the tomato, garlic, and dried oregano triumvirate of my home and into the creamy Alfredo sauces that in the 1960s and '70s became the hallmark of high-class Italian restaurant cooking (the dish was always made tableside by a tuxedoed waiter using elaborate arm movements). I noticed the attention and care that were paid to the preparation of food, not only in these restaurants but in my own family. And my dedication to the art of cooking took hold.

As a teenager, I began by experimenting. My first great discovery was aglio e olio (garlic and oil sauce), which was something my family never cooked because my father was not a fan of the straight taste of olive oil. As I entered adulthood, I'd make an aglio e olio sauce toward dawn for friends after a night of disco-hopping. It wasn't long before I varied the garlic-and-olive-oil base by adding anchovies, prosciutto, hot pepper, fresh parsley, and basil from my father's garden. Cooking was starting to become a life focus for me, a way of expressing myself.

Pasta sauces lend themselves beautifully to the kind of improvisation I was doing. Even in Italy, where town feuds are fought over the correct ingredients for a true Bolognese sauce, each cook makes the classic sauces a little differently. While traveling through the provinces of Campania and Puglia in the south of Italy on the way to my grandmother's birthplace a few years back, I stopped at many small trattorias and was served at least a dozen different versions of the ubiquitous (in that region) baked ziti with tomato sauce: one had mozzarella; one was seasoned with oregano; one included Pecorino and sausage; another had tiny meatballs. Each restaurant called the dish the specialty of the region, but no two made it the same way. I realized that this was what good cooking was all about -- placing your personal stamp on the food you love best.

This is a book about the innumerable possibilities for combining Italian flavors. My recipes show you the many approaches you can take with the ingredients you are working with. I give examples to help you discover what herbs and vegetables go well together, how different cooking techniques vary the taste of the same ingredients, and how to substitute with seasonal produce or simply to use up something in the refrigerator.

I also experiment with each key ingredient to show you how much freedom you really have. For me the most interesting part of any cookbook is the options the author provides. After most recipes, I've added a section called "Ideas," where I offer Italian regional variations and then suggest different directions in which you can take the dish. For example, a pasta sauce with tomato, shallots, and a touch of cream can easily be made piquant by omitting the shallots and cream and replacing them with garlic and green olives.

The wonderful thing about starting your culinary improvisation with pasta is that an extremely diverse range of ingredients can make their way into a pasta sauce and still retain Italian style. Looking through old Italian cookbooks, I've come across sauces containing beets, dried apricots, cabbage, squid ink, sweetbreads, walnuts, even chocolate!

My love is for pasta in true Italian style, and I favor using ingredients most Italians would approve of, so you won't find cilantro or miso paste here. Not that you can't make a great pasta dish using them; I just want to preserve the flavors and the feeling of real Italian cooking. My aim is to teach you how to use recipes creatively but within the framework of the Italian flavor palate. My recipes can be taken as starting points, with many enticing variations suggested.

As I show, Italian pasta sauces fall into two general categories: long-cooked and short-cooked. You can make a classic southern Italian sauce of calamari and tomato that is long-simmered, with a stewed, mellow character, or you can use the same ingredients, quick-saute the squid just until it turns opaque and tender, add chopped fresh tomatoes and herbs, and have it ready to eat in four minutes. The sauce will be bright and the squid tender. Same ingredients, two different tastes.

Your memory will gradually become a resource you instinctively rely on to make such choices and improvise in the kitchen. The more you cook, the more olfactory memory you will acquire as well, enabling you to imagine beforehand what will result from a certain combination of ingredients or cooking techniques. Of course, there will always be surprises. I've been eating at a small Italian restaurant in my neighborhood since it opened four years ago. I frequently order the same dish, which is listed as farfalle with squid and saffron, a combination or variation of which I often make at home. The restaurant's version tastes different, deeper. For ages, each time I ordered it, I tried to figure out what was special about it. The sauce is yellow from saffron. It contains white wine, probably a fish stock, and butter instead of the olive oil I invariably reach for when I cook squid. But there was something else in the sauce. One night I figured it out. The cook added rosemary with the saffron. An unusual combination. I would have thought a strong herb like rosemary would overpower the delicate saffron. But it didn't. It blended into a delicious, rich taste. And the rosemary must have been added to the stock and strained out so no little green flecks appeared. That combination might never have occurred to me, but now I use it as a flavoring for seafood dishes -- it works particularly well with shellfish. Even if you've cooked for many years, you'll always make discoveries, and those discoveries will stay with you. So don't be intimidated by lack of experience. It will make cooking all the more exciting.

I have always felt that the best cooks are those who have a naturally inquisitive palate. I've always had one. I remember as a child accepting a sandwich filled with bacon and cocktail olives from a kid down the street. I didn't realize it was meant as a joke, and she laughed hysterically when I tasted it, but I actually thought it had potential. Constant tasting is extremely important for any cook. If you follow a recipe without tasting as you go along, you're not really cooking; you're just following orders. By tasting, you learn how each addition to a dish changes it. Tasting while you cook is also a big part of the fun of cooking. You absorb a knowledge of what different foods are and what happens to them when they're cooked. Before adding the tomatoes, taste the chopped leek you've just sauteed in olive oil as a base for your sauce. Maybe you'll decide you don't need the tomatoes, and dine on a dish of fettuccine with leeks.

In the recipes in this book, I give general amounts for all seasoning ingredients such as fresh herbs or capers, so you'll have some leeway. My hope is that I'll encourage you to think about what you are doing and participate more fully in the process. I do give fairly specific amounts for main ingredients, such as one large eggplant, two pounds of tomatoes, or half a pound of shrimp. This is to ensure that the quantity will come out to the desired serving size (all the recipes in this book are designed for four main-course pasta servings or six first-course servings, or for sauce for one pound of dried pasta).

It's also important to study a recipe for guidance before you begin. Get a sense of what the cooking style and principles are. Will you be sauteeing or baking or grilling? Or simmering something in liquid? When you really start to become confident, try not bringing the book into the kitchen with you when you cook. You've got your ingredients, you know roughly the quantities you want to use, you understand the basic cooking method. Maybe you won't need to look at the recipe again. Maybe you'll want to take a look at it after you've finished, to see if what you did was what the recipe told you or if you went off and did something easier, better, or more suited to your own style. That is real liberation!

The last thing you should worry about is making mistakes. Very few dishes are literally inedible, and unusual is almost always better than boring. In most cases what you consider a mistake your guests or family will find delicious. Don't tell them you screwed up the recipe; you'll just make them feel wrong to enjoy it.

It takes a while to train your nose to sniff out flavor. Marcella Hazan, the great cooking teacher and author, once wrote that she could smell the salt in food. I thought this was amazing and tried to do it myself. I couldn't. I still can't, although I can now tell whether or not pasta water has already been salted by smelling it. But I cannot smell a tomato sauce and make this same determination. Maybe someday.

I'm still learning. Cooking, after all, is a continuous process of discovery. Out of discovery will emerge your personal style and the real joy that comes from pleasing your family and friends with your creations. Don't be afraid to grab a little freedom in your kitchen. You'll pick up techniques and learn while you cook. And there's nothing more inspiring than the flavors of Italy to serve as your well-seasoned guide.

Excerpt

Spaghetti Nest with Genoese Pesto and Goat Cheese-Stuffed Tomatoes

Goat cheese and basil pair beautifully, and I'm always experimenting with different ways to put them together. Here I've placed cheese-filled baked summer tomatoes on top of a pesto-dressed pasta. The tomatoes look like little eggs sitting in their nests. When the tomato juices mix with the basil, garlic, and goat cheese, you get all the taste of high summer in one bite. The success of this dish depends greatly on superb basil from your farmers' market (or your garden) and plump, juicy tomatoes that have never seen the inside of a refrigerator.

[Makes 4 main-course or 6 first-course servings]

For the pesto: About 1/2 cup pine nuts, plus a handful, lightly toasted, for garnish

1 or 2 young garlic cloves, peeled

About 2 loosely packed cups basil leaves, washed and well dried

About 1/4 cup freshly grated mild Pecorino cheese (Toscano is good here)

About 1/4 cup freshly grated Grana Padano cheese

About 1/2 cup olive oil (I like a green Tuscan oil for pesto, but a lighter oil from Liguria is more traditional)

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

For the tomatoes:

One 11-ounce log unaged goat cheese

About 1/4 cup heavy cream

Freshly ground black pepper

Salt 4 to 6 small round tomatoes (1 per serving: 4 for main course or 6 for first course)

Olive oil

1 pound spaghetti

* In a food processor, place the pine nuts and garlic and chop roughly. Add the basil leaves and process a few seconds, until they can start to break down. Add the cheeses and Mend everything until you have a rough, dry paste. Now add enough olive oil (about 1/2 cup) to achieve a rich, smooth paste. Season with salt and pepper and process a second to Mend. I like pesto not too finely ground, but instead with a bit of texture. I think this gives it a brighter flavor. * Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. * To prepare the tomatoes, mix the goat cheese with enough cream to make it soft and spreadable. Season with pepper and if needed, salt. Cut the top off the tomatoes and scoop out the insides. Salt lightly and place, cut side down, on paper towels to drain for 20 minutes. * Spread a little pesto on the inside of each tomato and fill to the top with goat cheese. Place the tomatoes in a lightly oiled baking dish. Drizzle a little olive oil over each one and bake until the tomatoes start to shrivel and the cheese is lightly browned, about 20 minutes. (Don't cook them any longer or at a lower temperature. You want them to cook quickly to retain their shape and juiciness.) * Cook the spaghetti until al dente, reserving about 1 cup of the pasta cooking water. Drain, leaving a bit of water clinging to the pasta, and transfer to a large serving bowl. Toss with the pesto, adding a bit of pasta water if necessary to loosen the pesto further. Divide the pasta among individual bowls and place a tomato in the middle of each serving. Top with a sprinkling of toasted pine nuts. Serve hot. The tomatoes are best served hot, but they can also be served warm on top of the hot pasta. The main point is that the goat cheese should be warm enough to be runny so it can blend easily with the pesto and tomato juices.

Ideas

Italians love to stuff vegetables, and many of the classic stuffed-vegetable dishes, I've found, are wonderful placed on top of a dish of pasta, creating multilayered tastes. Stuffed zucchini or stuffed zucchini flowers are delicious over pasta in tomato sauce. Classic mushrooms stuffed with garlic and bread crumbs look and taste great on top of a dish of pasta with mushroom sauce or over spaghetti dressed with a parsley-flecked aglio e olio (garlic and oil sauce).

When choosing vegetables to stuff and serve over pasta, think small -- mushrooms, small tomatoes, small onions, and zucchini blossoms are good choices. Large vegetables like bell peppers, globe artichokes, and large tomatoes will overwhelm the pasta and are best served as a separate course.

PESTO

Genoese-style pesto is a great love of mine. Strangely, it is never as good in a restaurant as it is when you make it yourself. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's fresher, or possibly it just tastes better because you make it the way you like it. Restaurants are always messing it up by adding cream or too much garlic or acrid garlic or poor-quality cheese.

Everyone has his or her own way of making it perfect. I like mine with plenty of pine nuts and very little garlic. There are no common measurements for pesto, just common ingredients: basil, pine nuts, garlic, Pecorino or Grana cheese (or a mix of both), olive oil, and salt. Some people add a bit of butter; some mix in walnuts with the pine nuts. I like a bit of black pepper, which is not a traditional ingredient. In Genoa, pesto is made with the local Pecorino. The measurements in this recipe are to my taste; you don't have to match them, just use them as a starting point.

My only suggestion, outside of letting your taste be your guide, is to buy the best ingredients you can. Even though basil is available year-round now, I make pesto only in the summer, when I can buy beautifully perfumed basil from my farmers' market. And toward the end of August, when the basil stalks become woody and the leaves take on a strong, harsh flavor, I stop making it and wait until next year. In a good pesto, you're looking for a perfect balance, yet every ingredient can be tasted true and clear. Purchase fresh pine nuts, and make sure your olive oil is really fresh and delicious. If your cheese has a slight refrigerator taste, this will be apparent in your pesto. Since pesto is a raw sauce, there is nowhere for inferior ingredients to hide. Another important thing to keep in mind is to make sure your basil leaves are very dry before putting them in the food processor. Water in your pesto will darken it to an olive green instead of the vibrant bright green it should be.

One final comment: You hear a lot of talk about how much better pesto tastes when it's made the old-fashioned way -- with a mortar and pestle. I'm not really interested in spending time doing this when I have a food processor, especially when I'm serving a dozen people. I've made small batches of pesto with my mortar and pestle and they've come out fine, but in my opinion, if you use a food processor and do not overpuree the ingredients, you will have a beautifully textured, vibrant pesto in no time.

Copyright © 1999 Erica De Mane. All rights reserved.