Showing posts with label Italian pasta recipe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Italian pasta recipe. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

The Enchantment of Ragu

I've yet to make peace with the fact that in Minnesota the lilacs last one week - and it's a glorious week - unless you're allergic! The tulips last two weeks and the snow lasts 5-6 months. But if one must find a positive in the chilly, biting cold and blowing white precipitation - it has to be ragu. In my New York city life, ragu happened once a year. In Minnesota, ragu happens 4 times a year. In the case of ragu - 4 'ragus' trumps one ragu.
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In Lynne Rossetto's Kasper's loving valentine to Italy's Emilia-Romagna's region, The Splendid Table, Rossetto Kasper writes of a furious debate that ensued after one of Italy's premiere gastronomic societies, L'Academia Italiana della Cucina posted an "official ragu sauce from Bologna." Many Bolognese were insulted that they were not consulted. The worth of using milk versus cream raged. Editorials were written about the inclusion of nutmeg. "It shouldn't be there!" versus "Of course it should!"
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I was so enchanted with the notion of restaurants, homes, shops and cafes debating the issue of "an official Bolognese Ragu Sauce" that I included the arguments in my children's play The Bread, The Bracelet and the Dove (set in Bologna). On their own, many of my young performers researched the beginnings of Bolognese Ragu. Brought up in the Midwest, they were astonished to discover that ragu is not... not.... not a tomato sauce. You can use tomatoes (I do) but they are broken down and flavor and color the meat but definitely do not sauce it. The tomatoes enchant but do not smother.
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Whether you use pork or a skirt steak or turkey sausage, milk or cream, add nutmeg or do without, this sauce dares winter to come into the kitchen. On a weekend, I will do a slow-simmering ragu - taking advantage of a free 3-4 hours. During the week, I make this quicker one which takes 75-90 minutes. (I said it was quicker - I didn't say it was quick.)


A ragu consists of chopped meats and sauteed vegetables cooked in a liquid (broth, wine or a combination). After simmering for hours, a little cream or milk would be added stretching yet another pasta dish into a rich, satisfying meal. It may have had humble beginnings but it earns a prize in creativity. It's ingenuous how peasant cooks took meat scraps and fashioned a luxurious meal. Feel free to substitute at will. Use all broth instead of wine. Mix up the meats. The recipe invites creativity, stirs debate and nourishes body and spirit.
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Fettuccine with Ragu Ingredients (adapted from Tastes of Italia) - serves 6
1 pound fettuccine (cooked according to package directions or homemade)
6 ounces dried procini mushrooms
1 cup beef broth or red wine
2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 pound Italian turkey sausage - crumbled (or Italian pork sausage or a skirt steak)
1/2 cup dry red wine (or more beef broth if you do not cook with wine)
3 teaspoons tomato paste
1-15 oz can fire-roasted diced tomatoes (2 cups of fresh cherry or grape tomatoes could also be used - slice them in half)
1/4 teaspoon fresh nutmeg
1/3-1/2 cup milk or half-and-half or cream
grated Parmigiano-Reggiano for topping


Fettuccine with Ragu Preparation
  1. Soak the mushrooms in beef broth for 30 minutes.
  2. In a large skillet, heat butter on medium heat. Ad the onion and cook for 5 minutes.
  3. Add the sausage and brown it (about 5 minutes).
  4. Add the wine, the mushrooms with broth, tomato paste and tomatoes. Mix well. Bring to a boil and then simmer for one hour - stirring occasionally. The tomatoes will break down, and as under an enchantment become one with the meat.
  5. Stir in the milk and nutmeg and simmer for ten minutes.
  6. Salt and pepper to taste.
  7. Serve passing Parmigiano-Reggiano separately.
I cannot tell you how much the idea of Italians contesting the worth of a recipe in the marketplace just tickles my fancy! If you like your recipes spiced with history and folklore, consider The Splendid Table by Lynne Rossetto Kasper. The book also enchants and nourishes.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Classic Carbonara

Spaghetti Carbonara - it's a classic. It's pasta's little black dress. Hold the cream, please. The velvety smooth coating is from the eggs and eggs alone. The eggs are insulted when cream is added. This is not a quiche. Carbonara is not Alfredo. They are not twins.

Carbonara's origins are a bit murky. Because "carbonara" is derived from the Italian word for "charcoal," many theories abound. Some believe it started as a hearty meal for Italian charcoal workers. Others think it was originally cooked over charcoal. And yet another theory is that is the specks of black pepper and pancetta in the velvety pasta looked like little charcoals on the dish.
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When the opportunity came my way to cook a recipe from the culinary school at Baltimore International College, I pounced on the Classic Carbonara recipe. When I became engaged to my husband, my mother made carbonara for a welcoming dinner for his family. My sister and I made Bon Appetit's Fettuccine Carbonara (with a fried egg on top no less - really, the Easter Bunny applauded our egg consumption that evening) for my family a little while ago - it was a splendid meal.


It's also a fast meal. Gather your ingredients: (For 4-6 people)
  • 1/2 pound bacon - chopped (Italians use pancetta - I do like the meaty bacon in this)
  • 1 tablespoon chopped garlic (about 2-3 cloves)
  • 4 large eggs, beaten (I used organic)
  • 1 cup freshly-grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (can use 2/3 Parm and 1/3 Pecorino-Romano)
  • 1 pound spaghetti, cooked al dente
  • 1 tablespoon chopped fresh parlsey (I used 1/4 of a cup)
  • salt and pepper to taste
(Note: there is no cream)
While the bacon sizzles, take note that the pasta will be thrown into a portion of the bacon grease and coated with it. The grease and pasta need to be hot - because your eggs will "cook" the pasta. That's right. You remove the pan from the heat (so you don't have scrambled eggs and pasta) and let the pasta do the cooking of the eggs. If you have a terror of salmonella, this may not be your recipe as it's the only way to do it. You must trust that the pasta will cook the raw eggs. And adding cream will not help.
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1. In a large saute pan (I used a Dutch oven - easier to hold the pasta), cook the bacon until crispy - about 6 minutes.

2. Beat your eggs.
3. Cook your pasta according to package directions.


4. Remove bacon from pan and drain on paper towels. When cool, "crisp" them into millions of little pieces.
5. Drain all but 3 tablespoons of bacon grease.




6. Add garlic and saute for 30 seconds. Return bacon to the pot.
7. Add pasta to pot and swirl - coating it with garlic, bacon and yes - the grease.

8. Remove pot from heat (important or the eggs will curdle) and immediately add the eggs. (Could also add some of the cheese into the beaten eggs and add it together). Swirl the eggs until the hot pasta is coated and cooking the eggs. The rich, buttercup, velevty texture appears once the eggs are cooked. All is smooth and beckoning.
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9. Add the cheese and mix in well. It is important that the cheese be freshly-grated. Freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano is so soft and billowy - you would never know it was from a hard cheese! It quickly attaches itself to the eggs and melts into the pasta. The pasta coating becomes rich and vibrant. It begs for a taste. And so you must - for you now need to season the pasta. Taste and add salt and pepper according to taste (I rarely salt and I am generous with the pepper).

9. Put spaghetti in serving bowl and top with parsley (as stated I used a lot more than the recipe called for). Toss well.


10. Toss again. (And just to be sure - have another taste).



11. Serve.
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This dish elevates bacon and eggs to an engagement dinner. The luxurious coating on the spaghetti is fit for a royal occasion. There's a reason Calvin Trillin wanted to replace the Thanksgiving turkey with spaghetti carbonara. Trillin actually waged a campaign to have Thanskgiving changed to Spaghetti Carbonara Day. And Mr. Trillin never had cream in his carbonara.
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I noted my changes as I went along. This recipe is a classic. I am an herb-nerd and always add more. I also am a clumsy herb-nerd so I used a Dutch oven instead of thinking I could toss the pasta well in a large saute pan. I've picked up strands of spaghetti from many unlikely places. I do acquire dictator tendencies in the last few minutes of cooking this dish. I want to be absolutely sure that the eggs are cooked so I have my bowl of beaten eggs six inches from the cooking pot. The dog and cat are removed from the kitchen so when I start adding the eggs and stirring like crazy, I don't trip on them. Nobody dares come near me to get a glass of water.

I love that the recipe is a classic, "don't mess with me, straight forward, use fresh ingredients" recipe. It's a dish reserved for special occasions and it lives up to its reputation (even if it won't replace the Thanksgiving turkey, even if there is no cream). With a little heat, Parmigiano-Reggiano melts into eggs and together they are transformed into velvet. It's truly a magical dish.
When we last made carbonara - we added broccoli. It actually worked well and wouldn't hurt. Pancetta instead of bacon? Absolultely! Just remember to use freshly-grated cheese, trust that the pasta will cook your eggs and please - hold the cream.

Carbonara - 'tis a classic. Like a trench coat, Cary Grant....


... or a perfect autumn day.
Disclosure: I was given some compesation to cover the cost of ingredients. I was not given any compensation for the blogpost. The opinions in my posting are all mine.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Delicious days with pasta, zucchini, herbs and shrimp

It's been a summer of elves, continuing with a summer of witches, of sillies and enchantment. And it's all been delicious: the elves, the plays, the theatrical days, the food.

With tomatoes at the market, zucchini in the garden and herbs that look like they've been sneaking steroids, it was time to cook.
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My second play of the summer In the Village of the Brothers Grimm has 48 roles plus 2-12 narrators. I have two casts of 21 and must plug them equally into the roles that they will heighten their summer theatre experience. Logistics. 48 roles. 42 characters. 12 Narrators. What was I thinking? Time to downsize. Simplify. Simple like my character Simpleton.

I can be Mistress of Simple. And so these were.

We started with celery stuffed with Gorgonzola and mascarpone. I combined equal parts (for 4 celery sticks I used 1/2 cup of each) of Gorgonzola Cheese with mascarpone. I folded in 4 tablespoons of marjoram. Marjoram has a sweet bite that holds up well to the Gorgonzola. Tarragon would also be interesting... and sage ... I toasted 1/3 cup of pine nuts. Simply combine the cheeses, fold in the herbs, stuff the celery and dot with pine nuts.
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There's a grand cheese shop in Minneapolis called Surdyk's. If you get there early enough on a Saturday (early Saturday's are a challenge for me), you will be among the lucky few to get their sweet, fresh ricotta.
It's habit forming. I added thyme, Italian parsley and a little basil. Swirled in some olive oil and simply served it with lightly toasted bread. (I do the routine of: a. rub cut, raw garlic onto the bread. Brush lightly with olive oil. Bake at 400 degrees F for 7 minutes or broil for 3 minutes. Grilling them would be heaven-sent.
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Pleased that I was using my huge, sci-fi-movie herbs, I turned to the zucchini. I picked four small ones and a blossom. I sort of found a recipe and then changed it so much you'd never know what I based it on! It seems long but it is ripe for substitution and start to finish was 30 minutes - worth every second of prep.
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Angel Hair Pasta with Shrimp and Zucchini and Tomatoes and Herbs and Breadcrumbs and Wine and Garlic - serves 4
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3/4 pound angel hair pasta
Breadcrumbs
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil (you will need more for the sauce)
2 garlic cloves minced (you will need more for the sauce)
1/2 cup whole wheat panko breadcrumbs
4 tablespoons of thyme, basil and parsley (combined any way that suits you)
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Sauce
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves minced
4 small zucchini
1/2 pint sweet cherry or grape or baby San Marzano tomatoes
4-6 tablespoons thyme and basil combined
1 pound peeled, deveined shrimp
3/4 cup dry white wine
Optional: one cleaned, chopped zucchini blossom
1/4-1/2 cup reserved pasta water
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Preparation
Cook angel hair pasta according to package directions.
Breadcrumbs: Heat olive oil in large skillet or pot large enough to hold the sauce and the cooked pasta. When hot, add garlic and swirl for 10-15 seconds. Add breadcrumbs and then herbs. Swirl until the bread crumbs soak up the oil and start to turn a deeper brown. (4 minutes tops) Remove breadcrumbs to separate bowl, wipe out pan and begin again.
Sauce: Heat olive oil. Add zucchini and tomatoes. Saute till softened. Add herbs, garlic and swirl. Add shrimp and swirl - you just want to swirl enough to get the hot olive coated on all. Add wine. Lower to simmer. Cook until sauce is reduced by half and shrimp is just cooked through. Four-five minutes. Do turn the shrimp constantly.
Pasta: Drain pasta reserving 1/2 cup cooking liquid. Add pasta to pot with sauce and toss. The pasta will just imbibe the juicy-wine-laced sauce. If dry, add a little of the pasta liquid - one tablespoon at a time. Add bread crumbs. Turn into pasta bowl and serve.

I did salt the zucchini for a few hours. I picked them, washed them, sliced them and salted them with some lemon salt I had on hand. I left them in a colander and forgot about them (literally). I rinsed them, dried them and I must say they really soaked in the oil, garlic and sauce and were just packed with soft, filtered-sunshine, tender flavors.


Just before adding the pasta, I sprinkled some chopped zucchini blossoms over all. More sweetness. More tenderness.

The herbs lent spice, the vegetables were sweet, the shrimp had a briney, soft-chew to them. The pasta was pillow-soft and the bread crumbs had some tangy crunch. It was all I wanted from a summer evening. It was simply delicious.


On the night the elves opened, a thunderstorm raged. Babies howled and wee ones called "Mama!" Our 32 young troopers took the stage, hit their marks, smiled at their success and were stronger than the thunder. The theatre shook after 16 elves, fists in air proclaimed, "We are the elves! The elves of Cologne," and then as if on cue: "Thunderclap!" roaring its approval, and then - their kind audience roared their own approval. During curtain call, they whispered to each other, "This was so fun." It was deliciously sweet. And in two more weeks, when my witch, my sillies, my fox, my geese, my woodcutter, Simpleton and Timberly-the-gangster-fairy are done, I hope to hear the 42 teen actors say the same thing. I hope they find the play and the audience a delicacy to be savored.