1,000 Foods To Eat Before You Die: A Food Lover's Life List (56 page)

Another increasingly ignored rule is that short pastas, or what are generally considered
maccheroni
(the tubular rigatoni or slimmer penne, the little corkscrewlike fusilli, the butterflylike farfalle, and the little “ears,” orecchiette) should never be served with seafood, the texture of the pasta being too close to that of the shellfish. But as parvenu pasta fans often find the longer pasta too difficult to negotiate gracefully, the shorter forms are now found sauced with seafood—mostly in the United States, but also in some touristic
trattorie
in Italy. In any case, grated cheese should never be used with any fish or seafood sauce. (The justifications as to why are both legion and passionate.)

Finally, pasta should always be served steaming hot. Cold pasta, however welcome it may be in summer salads, is anathema to the true cognoscenti, and for the best of reasons—it loses its light, melting chewiness, turning into a leaden approximation of its former self. (In case it comes to mind, Japanese buckwheat soba—see
listing
—is another matter entirely.)

Its myriad shapes aside, on the most basic level pasta is divided into two groups: fresh and dried. The term
fresh
tends to have a halo effect, to some instantly denoting superiority over the dried and generally packaged version. But each has its purpose. Fresh pasta usually includes egg, which lends its dough a supple, delicate touch; because it is not dried out, it contains water as well, which also contributes to its silky texture. Best served with fairly light sauces, it spoils easily and melts down quickly in the cooking water if even slightly overdone.

Because of its delicacy, fresh pasta is more expensive than dried. Dried pasta is usually made with only flour and water and is less fragile and perishable than fresh varieties. At its best, it is formed with the old bronze dies that impart sharper, more toothsome edges to the noodle; such pasta is always imported from Italy, which will be indicated on the package. Pastas colored pink with tomato or beets, green with spinach, or black with squid ink are always better fresh, as their flavors go stale quickly. When buying dried pasta, select brands you can examine through the box, so you can avoid any that looks dull and vaguely dusty or webby, indicating staleness.

In general the oily sauces, such as the simple olive oil and garlic gloss (the restorative
aglio e olio
), as well as the similar white clam sauce, do not pair well with fresh pasta, which tends to absorb the oil. Sauces that go either way are marinara, meaty Bolognese, and the Roman
amatriciana
, to name just a few—though the meat sauces would not be suited to the thin fragility of angel-hair pasta,
capelli d’angelo.
(Whether you choose long or short pasta depends upon whether you want the sauces wrapped around the pasta or enclosed in it, the latter requiring the short tubular and curled types.)

Because they almost always contain perishable fillings such as meat and cheese, the small stuffed pastas, such as ravioli, agnolotti, tortellini, and cappelletti, are generally made with fresh egg-enriched dough—still considered fresh even if it is allowed to partially dry so it can be held in the refrigerator for a day or two, then cooked without falling apart. The names of such filled pastas vary with the region, as they do with the merest difference in shape.

The Eternal City’s half-dozen or so noodle specialties are worthy of attention in and of themselves.
Cacio e pepe
, most traditionally made with silky, easily wound spaghetti, is true to its name. Adorned only with a pungent cheese like grated sheeps’ milk pecorino, it makes an eloquent showcase for a liberal tossing of coarsely ground black pepper. As soon as the hot spaghetti is cooked and drained, the cheese is tossed in to melt slightly as it traps the gritty grains of pepper.

Carbonara is one of the most misrepresented pasta dishes. In the U.S., it often appears with an inexplicable cream sauce, and sometimes with sautéed onions as well. Run far away from such abominations. The true carbonara is said to have been named for the coals over which woodsmen in the Apennines prepared the sauce for boiled pasta on their iron shovels. Authentically, it consists of spaghetti hot out of the colander, quickly tossed with bits of pan-browned guanciale, the Roman bacon made of meat from pigs’ cheeks, along with beaten eggs and a mix of grated pecorino and Parmesan. Add generous sprinklings of salt and pepper, and you have a satiny, slightly fluid, sunny pasta accented by crisp nuggets of the guanciale.

Spaghetti gricia
is “carbonara light”—about as spare as pasta can get, aside from the simplest olive oil and garlic. Carbonara minus the eggs, gricia has the hot pasta mingling only with the browned diced guanciale and cheese.

Pasta pagliata
is a favorite in this offal-loving city, but the dish is not a fit for the squeamish. Usually made with short, wide, ridged rigatoni or spaghetti, it is defined by a slightly creamy, meaty sauce that suggests a combination of minced veal and ricotta. In fact, pagliata is the chopped intestines of milk-fed calves or lambs in which some of that milk remains undigested, lending a cheeselike creaminess to the meat when heated.

Bucatini all’amatriciana
features the long, wide tubes unequivocally beloved in Rome, but the origin of its delicate yet satisfying sauce of tomato, onion, and bacon is a matter of territorial dispute. The sauce’s birthplace, the small town of Amatrice in the Sabian Hills, was once
part of the Marche region of Italy; later, the town was folded into the Roman province of Lazio. So who owns the origin story? Twirl some pasta around your fork, take a bacon-and-onion-laced bite enhanced with grated pecorino or Parmesan and some minced parsley, and you’ll be too content to argue.

Where:
In Rome
, Ristorante Matricianella, tel 39/06-683-2100,
matricianella.it
; Al Moro, tel 39/06-678-3495,
ristorantealmororoma.com
;
in New York
, Sandro’s, tel 212-288-7374,
sandrosnyc.com
.
Retail and mail order:
In New York and Chicago
, Eataly,
eataly.com
.
Further information and recipes:
Pasta
by Vincenzo Buonassisi (1973);
Bugialli on Pasta
by Giuliano Bugialli (2000);
Sauces & Shapes: Pasta the Italian Way
by Oretta Zanini De Vita and Maureen B. Fant (2013).

But could a woman ever love a man who snatched her basil? Certainly not in summer, when great handfuls of the herb are required for bowls of pasta al pesto (see
listing
) or salads of heirloom tomatoes, lightly glossed with olive oil and sea salt.

Indeed, the fragrant, licorice-lemon-scented herb with its pleasantly mild, minty flavor is one to cherish. Growing in several species and varieties, basil actually
is
a member of the mint family (genus
Ocimum
), originating in India, Southeast Asia, and Northeast Africa but now so closely associated with Italy as to be something of a culinary trademark. A fast grower and lover of warm climates, the plant reaches full glory in summer, making it a culinary soul mate for tomatoes. The two are well matched for reasons beyond seasonal compatibility: Basil’s pungent essence lends zest and balance to tomato sauces and offers contrast to the tomato’s sweet-tart nature. In the form of pesto, basil enlivens the French Provençal
soupe aux pistou
, it perfumes the classic Thai stir-fry
gai pad krapow
, and nouvelle cuisine chefs use it to flavor ice creams and sorbets as refreshing palate soothers.

Of basil varieties available to cooks, the small-leaved
Ocimum basilicum
, which grows throughout the Mediterranean, is the most familiar. The
Nano verde
variety (or green dwarf basil) is the most heavily scented, while the so-called lemon basil (
O. basilicum citriodorum
) is named for its mild astringency. Purple-leaved basil, or Thai purple basil, is heavier on the notes of clove and anise.
Ocimum sanctum
, sometimes called tulsi, is the “holy basil” of India, used by Hindus to treat digestive disorders but perhaps more felicitously to enhance many of their complex sauces.

Further information and recipes:
For basil frittata and other basil recipes,
Marcella Cucina
by Marcella Hazan (1997);
Cracking the Coconut: Classic Thai Home Cooking
by Su-mei Yu (2000);
saveur.com
(search many shades of green basil; laab; basil gelato).
Tip:
To judge freshness when buying basil, look for whole, undamaged leaves that are smooth and bright green, with no black spots. To store the herb, trim the bottoms of the stems and place the stalks in a few inches of water in a glass. Cover the glass with a plastic bag and store it out of sunlight. Or wrap the herb, stems and all, in several layers of wet newspaper or paper towels and store it in the refrigerator vegetable bin.

Various parts of Italy boast various versions of pecorino, the pungent cheese made from the milk of sheep,
pecore
in Italian. Pecorino from Sardinia, Sicily, and Apulia tends to be the sharpest. Abruzzo’s is somewhat milder, and Rome’s seems higher in acidity and is usually drier than the others. But of them all, the most sophisticated and elegant is the pecorino of Tuscany. Aged to a mellow complexity, it is generally considered among the world’s best cheeses for eating or grating. No less of an expert than Steven Jenkins calls this cheese his second favorite. (He awards top honors to Reblochon, see
listing
—among three dozen others.)

Pecorino Toscana earns such praise because the sheep’s milk on which it is based is especially high in the butterfat that lends such a distinctly rich and utterly nutty flavor. But even within Tuscany, you’ll see dozens of variations on the pressed cheese. The milk may be raw or pasteurized. Some rinds are plain while others are washed in olive oil or rubbed in tomato paste to enhance color and flavor.

The choice is personal, but as pecorino Toscano ages, the cheese becomes firmer and its rind darkens even as the flavor becomes more complex. Some prefer a younger, fresher version with less bite, which lends itself to a salad of spring fava beans heightened by nothing more than a few drizzles of golden Tuscan olive oil.

Retail and mail order:
In New York
, Murray’s Cheese, tel 888-692-4339,
murrayscheese.com
;
in New York and Chicago
, Eataly,
eataly.com
.
Further information and recipes:
Giuliano Bugialli’s Foods of Italy
by Giuliano Bugialli (1984);
Cheese Primer
by Steven Jenkins (1996).

Vibrant and summery to the eye as well as the palate.

Delectably cool and moist, sweet with just a slight tease of bitterness,
peperoni arrostiti
—roasted red peppers—are among Italy’s favorite vegetable side dishes and garnishes. Embodying the quintessential warm taste of summer, they also taste quintessentially red, if color can be said to suggest a flavor. Green, yellow, and orange peppers are also frequently roasted, but they lack the velvety richness of the deeply red, ripe, sweet capsicums and are less reliable to work with; the yellow and orange versions can contain too much water, and the green is inclined to excess bitterness when charred.

Although Italian-style roasted peppers are widely available in jars, many of the commercial renditions are only minimally acceptable—they cannot match homemade specimens that, as a bonus, impart a mouthwatering aroma to the house in which they are roasting.