Welcome Back, Carbs

The weekend started with promise:  theatre, friends and all day Sunday with nothing on the schedule.  Nothing.  It was the strangest thing, but I drew up a to-do list and we plunged in. 

Cue:  Monday morning with most of the to-do list left undone.  I swear we did not sit around the house yesterday.  Really.

Passover ended at sundown on Friday, and I even waited until 9 p.m. to eat my first slice of bread.  That's really restraint on my part.  It also means that bread, pasta and rice re-entered our house in a big way over the weekend.  Exhibit one:  this hunter's pasta.

This recipe isn't perfect;  I added the peas according to the recipe, but they really could have waited until closer to the end of the process, so I've modified that in the directions below.  This isn't the pasta equivalent of haute couture--think of it as the pasta equivalent of a favorite pair of sweats--comforting and easy to make and eat.  I used a mixture of mushrooms, but you could easily go with just one type, probably the cremini or portobellos.  The more expensive shiitakes can't be tasted enough to justify the expense.

Welcome back, carbs.  How I have missed you.

Also, without being too cute about it, my beloved cat Ingrid was seventeen yesterday.  Here she is is "helping" David make pasta.  I promise this pasta was solely consumed by David and I, as I would not let the cat sit that close to pasta I was making for guests.

 Rigatoni, Woodsman Style

Adapted from Lidia's Italy in America by Lidia Bastianich

1 tsp. sea salt

1 pound dried rigatoni

3 tsp. extra-virgin olive oil

1 medium yellow onion, coarsely chopped

1 lb. Italian chicken sausage, removed from casings

1/2 lb. cremini mushrooms, sliced thickly

4 oz. shiitake mushrooms, sliced thickly

1 large portabello mushroom cap, sliced thickly

6 fresh sage leaves

28 oz. can whole Italian plum tomatoes

1 cup frozen peas

1 bunch green onions, white and dark green parts only, chopped

1/2 cup heavy cream

1 cup good-quality Parmesan cheese, grated

In a medium bowl, crush the tomatoes by hand into small chunks and set aside.

Put on a large pot of water for the pasta and add a pinch of salt. 

Using a large skillet, heat the oil over medium heat.  When the oil is shimmering, add the onion and cook until the onion is slightly translucent, about three minutes.  Then add the sausage and cook thoroughly, using a wooden spoon to further crumble the meat.

Add all the mushrooms at once to the skillet, and cook for an additional two minutes.  Add the sage and tomatoes and bring the mixture to a simmer.  If the sauce is too thick, add a cup of water and return to a simmer.

Hopefully by this time your pasta water is at a boil;  add the rigatoni and cook according to the package until the pasta is al dente.  This should take about ten minutes.  Drain the pasta, reserving up to a cup of the pasta water in case the sauce needs thinning.

Cook the sauce uncovered for approximately ten minutes, then add the green onions and cook until they wilt into the sauce.  Add the cream and stir the sauce thoroughly to incorporate.  If the sauce is too thick, then add the pasta water bit by bit.  When the sauce is almost finished, add the peas and cook just until they are firm but not mushy.

Transfer the pasta to a warmed serving bowl, then add the sauce and toss thoroughly to coat.  Sprinkle some of the Parmesan over the bowl and serve the remainder on the side.

Makes 6 to 8 main-course servings;  could make up to 10 to 12 pasta course servings.

The Grail of Ingredients

Looking back at my first blog entries, I kind of want to cringe.

I didn't even sound like myself, but some weird, stilted version of myself.  I appear not to have had a sense of humor when I blogged about how I wanted to learn to cook serious Italian food and planned to use two cookbooks to guide me when doing it.  They aren't even my go-to cookbooks these days.  Sigh.

A16 Food + Wine is a great cookbook, don't get me wrong, but it assumes that you have all day to cook your dish and the bounty of San Francisco's markets at your fingertips.  

When my parents came up to visit at the end of last summer, I gave them a short list of some of the more esoteric ingredients to see if they could wrangle them at one of St. Louis' old-school Italian markets since St. Louis has a great old Italian neighborhood (for an entry about exploring that neighborhood, go here).

There was one ingredient that stumped even those markets:  bottarga.



Funny, it doesn't look like it's worth its weight in gold.

Bottarga is, according to A16, pressed mullet or tuna roe, although it now appears that it can be made of the roe from other fish.  I finally encountered it shaved over a salad at the restaurant Beast in Portland.  There's no mistaking it once you know what it tastes like:  salty and of the sea somehow.  Salmon roe has a similar taste, although it's not as intense as caviar.  You either like it or you don't.

Last Sunday morning before leaving Seattle, David and I stocked up on all things Italian at DeLaurenti's, a terrific Italian grocery at Pike Place Market (the coffee bar there, FYI, is terrific).  There, in the case with the salumi and cheese, was a hunk of bottarga.  I practically expired at the price, which was over $200 a pound or some such craziness.

We bought a tiny piece and brought it home to experiment.  This recipe from A16 is marked by its relative ease, although it assumes you have made your own oven-dried tomatoes.  I have adapted it to use storebought sun-dried tomatoes.  The bottarga is unnecessary to enjoy the dish, and vegetarians could leave it out. 

Pasta with Sun-Dried Tomatoes and Bottarga

Adapted from A16 Food + Wine

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

3 cloves garlic, crushed

3 small peperoncini peppers, crushed

2 cups sun-dried tomato halves, cut in half

1/2 cup vegetarian or chicken stock

12 ounces fresh or dried pasta, preferably angel hair or bucatini

1/2 oz. bottarga

Put a large pot of salted water on to boil for the pasta.

Heat a large saucepan over medium heat, then add the olive oil.  When the oil is warm, add the garlic and peperoncini, stirring occasionally, until the garlic just starts to take color.

If using dried pasta, put it on now and cook until al dente.  Add the tomatoes to the saucepan and cook, stirring occasionally, for about ten minutes or until they have softened considerably.  About halfway through the cooking process, add the stock.

If using fresh pasta, start it now and cook for approximately a minute.  When the pasta, either fresh or dried, is cooked, reserve about a cup of the pasta water.  If the tomato mixture looks dry, add a couple of tablespoons of the pasta cooking liquid to reach the desired consistency, just thick enough to coat the pasta.

Combine the cooked pasta with the sauce and toss to coat the pasta strands.  Shave the bottarga over the pasta when it is either on a serving platter or in individual bowls.

Makes four main-course servings or six pasta course servings.