Posts tagged ‘pasta’

Last Sunday, Casey and I turned Good. Food. Stories. into a live show! We demo’d our signature dish, spaghetti carbonara, at New York Botanical Garden’s Edible Garden series. While Casey did the majority of chopping, grating and tossing (someone please give this girl her own tv show already!), I—being the history geek—shared some of the stories about the origin of carbonara.

Much of Italy’s cuisine has been shaped by the different groups that have conquered parts of Italy throughout history. Sicilian food often includes dishes with saffron and raisins which reflects the Arab culture that dominated the island in the ninth and tenth centuries. Tomatoes didn’t even exist in Italy until the 16th century when Spainiards, who controlled the Kingdom of Naples and Sicily, brought them back from their New World explorations. You may be surprised to know that a distinctly American influence can be found on spaghetti carbonara.
>> Shocked by this revelation? Read on! >>

Two years into my residency as a New York Eater, I officially declared a boycott on Restaurant Week and most prix fixe menus. I was tired of being served one too many subpar options, too many basic dishes that weren’t showing off the true talents of the restaurant I was sitting in. Why was I shelling out $35 for a dumbed-down piece of seared salmon when I could be ordering a more satisfying app and entree for the same price off the real menu? I didn’t see the deal.

So it was an unexpected (but happy) blow to my jaded snobbery to discover the most compelling reason to have lunch at A Voce—apart from the phenomenal fresh housemade pastas—is that they don’t play around with their prix fixe menu.

For the past year or so, the restaurant has instituted a daily $29 three-course lunch special, an actual well-thought-out menu rather than the cheap-to-serve stuff like a boring green salad and a chicken entree. Chef Missy Robbins changes it up every so often, highlighting different regions of Italy depending on the area’s iconic cuisine and the time of year she’s serving it—hearty dishes from the Piedmont in the winter, lighter seafood-based fare from Sardinia or the Veneto in warmer weather.
>> Read on to discover the menu standouts at A Voce. >>

Once you’ve decided to take the plunge and buy your Crayola-colored KitchenAid stand mixer and pasta roller attachments, don’t wait another second—grab your flour and eggs and get ready to gorge on homemade pasta.

I use the basic recipe of one egg and 3 oz. of flour (or approximately 1/2 cup if you don’t have a kitchen scale) per person, based on the excellent ratio from Michael Ruhlman’s book. To that, I add a healthy glug of olive oil and a sprinkling of kosher salt.

If you have a kitchen scale, place a large bowl on the scale, turn on/zero it out, and spoon your flour into the bowl until you have the right number of ounces. If you don’t have a kitchen scale, read this and see why it’s a valuable tool. And then measure your flour by spooning flour out of the bag/bin into your measuring cup and leveling with a knife, rather than dipping the measuring cup directly into the flour. (Because of how widely a cup of flour can very in weight, this is how you should always measure it.)

Make a well in the middle of the flour, crack your eggs into the center, add the olive oil and salt, and start stirring the pool of eggs with your fingers. The eggs will mix and slowly incorporate the flour. I’m sure you’ve seen Anne Burrell do this right on her board on Iron Chef America, but trust me—it’s much easier in the bowl because you’re not worried about the egg breaking the flour “wall” and oozing all over the counter.

stirring the eggs into the flour

Italian-Americans are well known for keeping the pasta sabbath. Every Sunday around 2 or 3pm, the whole family (and likely some extra cousins) will sit down for a big pasta meal.  This is the way it has been done for most first- and second-generation Italian families. But this modern life makes it hard to hold fast to such traditions. Many families like mine do Sunday pasta only once in awhile, when my brother and I are both visiting our parents, or for a birthday or special occasion. But why do we do this? Hasn’t Mario Batali let us all know by now that there’s more to Italian cooking than pasta and red sauce?

Much of this has to do with the fact that many Italian-Americans come from the provinces of Salerno, also known as the Ciliento.  There, Sunday dinner means hand-made fusilli, tomato sauce or meat ragù, and large gatherings of families. In New York, large communities of Cilentese settled in Italian Harlem (East Harlem), the Belmont section of the Bronx, and Williamsburg, Brooklyn. In these neighborhoods, Sicilians, Neapolitans, Calabrians, and Apulians lived together as they hadn’t in Italy. Their traditions, their families and their Sunday dinner recipes blended and soon created the culture that made them Italian-Americans.

Pasquale Maio runs the American arm of Cilento Experience, which presents gastronomical tours in the Cilento. He explains:

“According to tradition,  fusilli were only freshly made to honor Ferragosto, Easter and Christmas. But this succulent, typically Cilentano dish is eaten on Sundays for the family reunion or to celebrate a special occasion and relax at home with  family. My bisnonna (great-grandmother) always says to me that one MUST have fusilli al ragù as a Sunday meal and if you have guest you have to respect them by making fresh pasta.”

Here’s a simple recipe from Pasquale’s family for fresh Sunday fusilli, or, fusiddi, as they say in the Cilento.

• 2 lbs flour 
• 4 eggs
• 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
• Room temperature water as needed

Prepare flour into a fountain shape on a pastry board. Add eggs, oil and water into the center of the flour. Using a fork, mix together all ingredients and combine well. Using your hands, slowly incorporate the rest of the flour and knead dough until the texture is consistent. Set aside for a half hour.

Using your palm, separate dough into small cigarette-shaped sections. Gently remove from board and lay pasta on a tray. Continue until dough has all been used.

Once pasta has been cooked, prepare with tomato sauce or with a meat ragù.

If you want homemade pasta in New York, there are a few restaurants whose names are bandied about like Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck…. One of these rock stars of the pasta pantheon is the Roman osteria Lupa. I love it. I love the rabbit ragu over tagliatelle, I love the carbonara, I’m even kinda fond of the testa.

But the thing is, Lupa regularly hits you with a two-hour wait. Even on a Tuesday night. Thus, I end up eating there about once a year when I can fit in a late-day lunch (Lupa serves all day from noon to midnight). So what’s the alternative when you just want a big bowl of good mac on a weeknight without selling your soul? Malatesta Trattoria on Washington Street offers up homemade spaghetti alla chitarra, tagliatelle, gnocchi, piadini, and more with little wait and twice the service.

Be mindful – this is not a well-oiled Batali operation, so there are going to be some tradeoffs. On a good night, the warm, herb-oil-infused bread can rival Jim Lahey’s pizza bianca served at Lupa. On a bad night, you’re just getting Italian peasant bread sprinkled with olive oil and rosemary. It’s a toss-up, but I’m willing to deal with it to get to the rest of the meal. Free bread is icing on the cake in the long run.

Care must also be taken with the wine list. The carafes of house wine are surprisingly tasty but the cheaper wines on the bottle list can be a little harsh. If you want a bottle, try the Falanghina off the list of whites or the Primitivo off the reds.

But you’ll be a happy camper when you get to the main courses. The polpette, veal meatballs with excellently charred bread slices and marinara ($15), will leave you licking the plate. The aforementioned spaghetti alla chitarra ($12), also served with marinara and chunks of fresh mozzarella and basil, is a toothsome bowl of satisfaction. And the mussels are aromatic, brothy, and surprisingly plump.

Malatesta is straightforward, it’s authentic, it’s belly-filling and filled with charming, good-looking waiters, and you’re not going to have to kill yourself to get in. When you’re not ready to deal with the crowds, the eating at the bar, or any general hassle just to get to a good bowl of pasta, this is the place you need to go.

Lupa, 170 Thompson St. between Houston and Bleecker. 212-982-5089 or reservations on OpenTable (good luck).

Malatesta, 649 Washington St. at Christopher St. 212-741-1207; cash only.