It might be generational, or, perhaps, philosophical, but there are, on the one hand, those who enjoy and appreciate handmade things, and the art and craft they require to make, and, on the other, those who prefer their things machine-made, reliable, and standard. The ‘things’ here could be quite literally anything. My father, who, to me, is the quintessential scientist and pragmatist, believes that most, if not all, advances for the betterment of mankind have come as a result of the increased use and application of machines, technology and science. In fact, he would argue, I’m sure, that this blog is evidence of the fact that even something as Luddite as cooking can be improved through the application of technology, though regular readers – with good reason – may not agree.

My mother was cut from very different cloth however, and, though a nurse who believed sincerely in the power of modern medicine, sanitation and inoculation, she was a true amateuse of a hand-turned chair-leg, a cut-glass goblet, and, much to the detriment of my appearance during my tender years, a hand-knitted sweater.  She was also a great lover of gardening, baking bread and, despite the fact that it rarely worked, yogurt-making. I think it’s from her that I get most of my culinary instincts, as the very notion of spending three or four hours in the kitchen doing anything would horrify my dad.

Pasta-rollers, like all machines, were invented for three main reasons: (1) to produce more quickly what used to take a long time (2) as a uniform-quality product, and (3) so that the resulting free time could be spent either more enjoyably or industriously. The assumption behind it seems to be that it makes it easier to make something that is typically quite tricky, and that the making of it by hand was a laborious pain in the ass. Those who have used a pasta roller, whether the hand-crank variety or the KitchenAid attachment, know, as we do, that it is a fabulous invention and enables even the busiest gastronome to home-make great fresh pasta in a relatively short time. They might also have found that it is actually fun to use because it combines the joy of mixing a dough by hand with the ease and convenience of not having to roll it out and cut it yourself.

Taking this notion of fun to its logical extreme this past weekend, I decided to devote my entire Sunday to doing the whole thing – the mixing, the rolling and the cutting – by hand. In spite of the recipe book’s warning that it was a painstaking exercise, I had little idea of what I was getting into. I now have a profound appreciation both for labor-saving machines, and the unique taste, texture and satisfaction derived from hand-rolled pasta.

But it is more than that. I learned something about myself on Sunday. In some ways, it was a revelation. I had always thought that I appreciated handmade things, particularly food and wine, with the all patience, care and skills that their creation implies, but I had never actually tested myself to see if I could enjoy hand-making something that required real patience and physical effort.  And, while there certainly were moments in which I did not enjoy being patient or the physical effort, on the whole, I really did find the process to be incredibly rewarding – relaxing almost. Not only did I (eventually, and with several abortive attempts) make some absolutely first-class pasta, but I learned a new technique and was, in the end, able to enjoy the fruits of my labor in a way I never have before.

Pici Keen

Famous for the lavish displays of wealth and the beautiful arts of the Renaissance found in Florence, Siena, Lucca and Pisa, Tuscans are, by contrast, rather austere in their culinary inclinations with their love of simple grilled meats, stewed beans and saltless bread. Such austerity requires the freshest and best ingredients in order to be delicious, and, fortuitously, Tuscany offers these up in great bounty. Similarly, it often requires great effort and technique.

So it is with Pici (also known as pinci — hand-rolled, eggless Tuscan thick spaghetti — perhaps the best example of this cucina povera (poor man’s cuisine) — utilizing only 00 flour, water, green Tuscan olive oil and a lot of time and effort. Indeed, it is my belief that what the poor, historically, lacked in wealth they more than make up for in patience, and disposable time. Originating from the Val d’Orcia region (the area between Montalcino and Montepulciano), pici are usually eaten with a rich meat sauce, often containing porcini mushrooms, but any hearty meat or game ragu would be a good choice.

The duck ragu recipe below is typical of the region of Arezzo which is the area where we got married in June 2007, and making it engendered all those kinds of warm feelings one gets from a house filled with delicious smells and the wonderful memories of the time of our lives.

Learning a new skill, and in this case, a new recipe, is a matter of managing to overcome self-doubt. Before you attempt making pici, I would highly recommend you try making a regular long pasta with an egg dough, so that you understand how it should feel and look. It will also allow you to develop a sense about the right elasticity of a good dough which will be useful even though Pici dough is a very different creature altogether.

If you follow the exact instructions below, you’ll probably find that your dough feels too dry and too heavy. Do not be afraid to add more water and more oil as you see fit because eggless doughs can easily become brittle when allowed to be too dry. However, do not abandon hope. I urge you to stick with the basis of the recipe (allowing for various seasonal, regional, altitudinal and indoor-outdoor climactic conditions) and overcome your fears of impending culinary disaster, as they will not materialize. If it feels too dry, add more water. Too wet, add flour until it feels right. One word of caution, though: be sparing in any additions of liquid or lipids because at the hand-rolling stage you will be adding extra olive oil to reduce friction and facilitate the rolling process, and you don’t want to find at that stage that you have to start all over again.

Also, do give yourself plenty of time. An otherwise lazy Sunday afternoon is perfect for this, as not only does the pasta make a perfect Sunday night dinner, but, more importantly, it gives you time to rest as you go along. Making enough pici for four people can be a tiring business, even if there are two of you on the job. One final proviso, do not treat pici like regular fresh pasta — i.e. sprinkle it liberally with flour and allow to set-up and dry for a while prior to cooking. I refer to my earlier comments when I say that pici can dry out and become brittle very quickly, so when you make them, plan to eat them within, at most, a couple of hours. This might appear like a disadvantage but it’s not because once cooked they are probably more robust than regular pastas and even reheat remarkably well.

So, please try making this dish. The sauce is easy and indescribably good (I know everyone says that about their food, but, really, this is very special), and the pasta is a great reward for some hard graft both corporeally and in that it offers a real sense of achievement. By the time you’re done, you’ll have sore shoulders but will have mastered the rolling technique perfectly. As a result, pasta-making will have transcended the bland uniformity of the machine-age and become what all good food should be: absolutely unique and deeply personal.

New Jersey, it’s like a cross-section of the entire United States stuffed into a very small area — fenced-in by heavy industry, ugly sub-divisions, peaceful tidal bays and relaxing shore towns — but with its own very distinct character. And, if you drive around it long enough, you’re bound to see some pretty interesting stuff. This goes for the social and the edible, as well as the geographic and architectural.

For example, every spring, you’ll find aged Italian-Americans risking the wrath of New Jersey State Troopers as they harvest dandelions from the banks and verges of Jersey’s myriad highways and parkways. The first time I saw this I thought it must be part of a program to get the elderly outside and active by having them weed public areas. Then, when I’d learned what they were really doing, I marveled at the genetic lottery these robust octogenarians were winning in spite of eating greens picked from the sides of some of the most heavily trafficked roads in the country. So, even though I was apprehensive — for that reason, as well as only having ingested dandelions previously in the form of the disgusting traditional British beverage Dandelion & Burdock (something my grandparents used to trick me into drinking by telling me it was Coke. Its taste is somewhere between sarsaparilla and rust.)— I figured I should give it a go myself.

Now, I haven’t yet had the privelige of picking my own weeds for dinner as cars and trucks whizz by on the NJ Turnpike, and when I do, you can sure you’ll hear about it right here, but I have experimented with eating dandelions a couple of times. The first was an unmitigated disaster, as their unbelievable bitterness ruined an entire meal: leaching acrid chemicals into the sauce and turning my mouth so far inside-out from the first bite that I spent the rest of the evening scrubbing the insides of my cheeks almost raw with a toothbrush.

But recently, I decided that they deserved a second chance. So, arming ourselves with a little research, as well as a precautionary array of tongue scrubbing devices, we set about turning a large bunch of sandy weeds into a delicious side dish. Happily, after a sound preliminary blanching, the outcome was an enormous improvement on our first, rash experiment. And, as part of a scrumptious early fall dinner of veal chop, rich buttery rosemary-brandy cream sauce, and a frankly beautiful (if I do say so myself) roast turnip, I was delighted to concede that eating weeds can, in fact, be very enjoyable.

Of course, the world needs another basic veal chop recipe like Williamsburg, Brooklyn, needs more frickin’ hipsters, but we have been on kind of a veal chop kick since we returned from Argentina in the spring. It’s an expensive habit for sure now we’re back, but in Buenos Aires, as with all kinds of cattle products, veal is very reasonably priced and is treated with a similar degree of skill as the more famous beef.

One particular veal dish stands out. At the rather trendy-looking Grappa restaurant in the Palermo “Hollywood’ district of BA, Amy had a spectacular grilled veal chop slathered with one of the most mushroomy sauces imaginable. It was as if entire sacks of porcini mushrooms had been somehow liquefied on her plate. The menu described it simply as a chuleta de ternera con crema de hongos and our pathetic (certainly for food and menus) dictionary couldn’t tell us what hongos are.

Still, we knew that we liked them and they were delicious, not to mention that hongos is just a fun word to say, so a couple of days after eating said dish, perusing the shelves of a local almacen, we were excited to find large bags of dried Chilean hongos at rock-bottom prices. It was only after we returned to Brooklyn that we learned that hongos translates as “fungus”, but even with a couple of bags of hongos in our pantry, we’re still not exactly sure what kind of fungus we are the owners of. They look and taste very similar to porcini, so we’re assuming that they are a related species, but research into the differences between hongos and setas (wild mushrooms in Spanish) returns no categorical answer except that taxonomically, mushrooms are fungi and fungi are mushrooms. However, one almost helpful Argentine website informed us that, fungus usually refers either to inedible mushrooms, or to the large (usually subterranean) organism of which the mushroom is but the visible, and gatherable, part. To turn the example above ground, the fungus is the apple tree, the mushroom is the apple.

Anyway, though we, like the fungus, might still be in the dark about many micological issues, we can assure you that should you find hongos on the menu anywhere in the Spanish speaking world, you should eat them, especially if paired with veal and a delicious buttery sauce.

Grappa
El Salvador 5802 – Palermo Hollywood, Buenos Aires
T: 4899-2577
E: grappacantina@fibertel.com.ar
Every day 12noon to 1.30 a.m.

We’ve had such a cruddy spring here in NYC and it’s hard to believe the summer solstice is just a week and a half away. Luckily, it’s been chilly and wet during the work week and sunny and warm at the weekends. It doesn’t make you feel that much better, though. You can’t fully get into the swing of summer because the weather just isn’t matching up. It feels like early April and we’re two weeks into June. Sadness. I want to wear my freaking sandals again and eat dinner outside and not wear a COAT ANYMORE!

Venting over. The one way we’re finding we can brighten our rainy, cool day is by cooking meals like this one. Fish (and our Black Cod is sustainable… double happiness) reminds me of the beach, which reminds me of sunny days. Morels and peas remind me of spring which (usually) remind me of flowers and sunny days. Mint reminds me of my garden in the summer which, say it with me, reminds me of sunny days. It was cool enough outside to use my oven, but we could just as easily have done this on the grill. The minty pea puree was fabulous and could have been eaten with a spoon alone. We paired this dish with some sliced Yukon Gold potatoes in their skin, sprinkled with olive oil and some herbs de Provence and crispily roasted in a hot oven. While these are cooling down, you can finish your fish.

Here’s to warmer, sunnier days ahead wherever you are!

Once he’s managed to obtain said lucre though, Mayle is remarkably restrained in his descriptions of how best to prepare them. Of course, he says, you can stuff a pigeon with them, or combine them with cream and mushrooms as a sauce over beef or veal medallions, but the way to enjoy them at their best, most pungent, earthy and flavorful, is to do as little to them as possible. His preferred recipe is to grate a generous amount of black truffle into and over a simple, loose, French-style omelette, and enjoy with a glass of champagne, for breakfast.

Well, since our good friend Nuria at Spanish Recipes challenged us to submit our favorite omelette recipe to her Blog Your Omelet contest, we felt that we had to produce something pretty grand if we were to compete with her amazing range of eggy treats. So, here it is, both simple and sophisticated at the same time, not to mention being about the best breakfast imaginable, especially with the champagne!

The key to a good omelet, the great Jacques Pepin reminds us, is to keep it a bit “wet” or “loose” by not overcooking it (which Americans seem to hate, for some reason) and to never complicate the flavor of what should be the star of the show – the egg.  Americans know how to do this best – kind of similar to how we can complicate the simplicity of a pizza by weighing it down with a million toppings.  Look at the average diner omelet in America – it’s often stuffed with a lot of veggies and/or meat and oozing with cheese – perhaps the only way of saving the old diet “egg white omelet” from being boring and tasteless, however.

Regardless of how you usually make your omelet, and whether or not you have truffles, we urge you to try a simple and loose one next time. For ours we simply added butter to the warm pan and poured in our whisked egg and dash of cream, salt and pepper mixture.  Stir or whisk the egg while it’s cooking in the warm pan until it begins to come together. Then, stop stirring and let it sit and cook. When it looks mostly cooked but still nicely moist and with a bit of looseness on the top layer, you’re done. (Remember, eggs continue to cook in their own heat, so you can undercook it and it should still be good within a minute or so.)  If you so choose to, add some chopped chives and sliced mushrooms sauteed in some truffle oil (if you’ve got it) to the middle and then slice some black truffle (again, if you’ve got it) on top. No ketchup or hot sauce necessary, we promise.

Recently, I’ve been noticing many, many food blogs posting recipes utilizing a certain brand of pre-made “fresh” pastas: nothing like a Foodbuzz promo to bring the best out of the food bloggers. Many came up with very creative recipes using a store-bought, pre-made pasta (a difficult compromise for many hardcore pasta lovers). [In case you were wondering, no, Foodbuzz didn't send us any Buitoni products, and yes, you do detect a hint of bitterness.] A prize of All-Clad Copper Core pots and pans is a pretty damn good prize to inspire the Sandra Lee in all of us. (An Aside: Speaking of Ms. Sandra Lee, has anyone seen that horrid “Kentucky GRILLED Chicken” commercial?  We wonder if she is going to take a bucket of that chicken, open up a bag of arugula, throw on some Seven Seas Italian Dressing, and then craft one of her cleverly-branded “tablescapes” featuring giant papier mâché heads of the Colonel?)

After seeing all these different recipes utilizing store-bought pasta (and upset at having been left-out of this Foodbuzz freebie), I was reminded that the average American still thinks that making homemade pasta isn’t possible, and I was determined to prove them wrong. Although I do understand that there is a time and a place for store-bought stuffed pasta and Semi-Homemade/Sandra Lee nights, I also believe that creating homemade, fresh, stuffed pasta is much, much easier than most people think.

The key is in the stuffing. If you can make a delicious stuffing for ravioli, agnolotti, tortellini, cannelloni or any other shape of stuffed pasta your little heart desires, the hardest part is over. If you don’t have a pasta roller (or a rolling-pin), buy some wonton wrappers and do it that way. The key is that you’ve done it – you made it, the stuffing is fresh and includes zero preservatives. You get to control what goes in the stuffing. Get creative ’cause the possibilities are endless.

Although I did make my own pasta for this dish, the star was the stuffing. It was super simple, quick and very easy to make. We happened to find fresh porcini’s in our local market (a freaking miracle) for about $35 a pound, so we bought two ($8!) and decided to blend those with some rehydrated dried ones and a bit of good old (and too often underappreciated) white button mushrooms. A bit of butter, some fresh parmigiano, garlic, shallots and sage, and you’ve got a fab-u-lous, fresh filling for pasta.

Bottom line, if you haven’t tried making your own stuffed pasta, give it a try. Please. Just try.

How many times can one person write the word crispy in one post title? Guess five times was enough.  Now how many times can one person write crispy within a post? Word count at the end of this post – I know you’ll be on the edge of your computer chair. Seriously, the other night I was craving crispy like something fierce!  I didn’t want fried chicken crispy or thincrust pizza crispy, but I wanted that delicate balance between baby food smooth and crunchy/crispy. Am I loosing you yet, folks?  Does anyone ever have this craving? Well, my craving was quelled by this fabulous mix of fish that was pan seared until the skin went super crispy (the trick? get all the moisture off your fish by patting it dry with paper towels and running your knife against the skin to remove any excess moisture and then putting it in a hot pan that is immediately turned to medium once the fish hits it skin side down), laid on a bed of creamy parsnip puree and sprinkled with all sorts of roasted vegetables.

One new thing that I discovered upon my crispy craving was that roasted broccoli rabe is really, really good.  I tried it and it worked.  The leaves and sides of the florets went super crispy with the stem staying perfectly crunchy.  I also roasted other things that were rolling around in my fridge including onions, a bit more leftover parsnip, cauliflower and shiitake mushrooms.

Ahhh, roasted mushrooms, my newest obsession.  They are sliced thinly and roasted until they almost become concentrated in flavor and crunchy.  If someone came out with a bag of roasted mushroom “chips” I’d happily snack away all day.  These are the perfect topping to any fish, pizza, chicken or bruschetta dish and I highly recommend you trying them.

I topped off this whole dish with a little “sauce” of reduced seafood stock with a squeeze of lemon and some butter mixed in.  The whole thing satisfied my crispy craving and made my cold winter night a little bit warmer.

Crispy count? 10.  How annoying was this post on a scale from 1 to 10? 10.  Deliciousness factor of this meal?  10.

CRISPY FISH WITH ROASTED VEGGIES AND PARSNIP PUREE (serves 2-4)

Ingredients:

• 2 filets of trout with skin (or any other mild flavored fish)
• 1 8oz. package of mushrooms (we used shiitake, you could use cremini, white button, etc.), sliced in 1/4 inch slices
• a variety of vegetables including cauliflower, onions, parsnips
• 1/2 bunch of brocolli rabe
• 2-3 large parsnips, peeled
• 2 cloves of garlic, roasted in the oven for 20 minutes (optional)
• 1 teaspoon whole grain mustard
• 1/2 cup milk (may need a bit more depending on size of parsnips)
• olive oil
• salt and pepper
• 1/2 lemon
• truffle oil (optional)

What to do:

1. Heat your oven to 450 degrees and boil and pot of salted water for the parsnip puree. 
2. In a bowl, toss the cauliflower in a bit of olive oil and (optional) a few drops of truffle oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper.  Spread on a baking sheet lined with foil.  Next, toss the mushrooms with the same – olive oil, optional truffle oil and then salt and pepper. On a seperate part of the the baking sheet, add the mushrooms.  Repeat this “toss and season” thing with each vegetable you will roast, including the broccoli rabe, and add to a baking sheet, giving enough space for each vegetable to roast evenly.  Put in oven and roast at first for 15 minutes (total roasting time will vary for some veggies depending on how crunchy you want them to be).
3. Peel your parsnips and cut into 2 inch chunks.  Add to the boiling water and allow to cook until soft – about 15 or 20 minutes.
4. Pat your fish dry with paper towels and make sure you get the excess moisture off the skin by running your knife up and down the length of the skin. Sprinkle with salt and pepper on both sides and allow to rest until ready to cook.
5. After the first 15 minutes of roasting time is up, turn the vegetables in order to promote even browning. Your mushrooms will start to be looking more dried out than the other vegetables.  Turn each mushroom slice on to the other side – if they are to your liking, remove them to a bowl and reserve until you are ready to plate.  The broccoli rabe will need to be tossed around as well, ensuring that the delicate leaves don’t get too burnt. Put all the vegetables back in the oven and roast again – the mushrooms will only need another 5 to 8 minutes and the rest of the veggies will need another 15 to 20 minutes.
6. Remove your soft, boiled parsnips from the water and add to a blender or food processor along with the milk, roasted garlic, whole grain mustard and salt and pepper.  Add a bit of olive oil to bring it all together and taste for seasoning.  Keep warm in a pot or by keeping the lid on the food processor.
7. Heat a pan up on high heat until it comes up to temperature.  Add about 2 tablespoons of olive oil and your fish filets skin side down in the pan.  As soon as the fish hits the pan, turn your heat down to medium-high (or medium if your range has a very strong flame).  Allow to cook skin side down for 5 to 6 minutes.  Carefully flip the trout filets over and cook for a minute and then turn off the heat.  It will continue to cook in the hot pan while you assemble your plate.
8. Remove all the veggies from the oven and plate – add the roasted broccoli rabe on the bottom then a dollop of the parsnip puree and then lay the trout filet on top. Sprinkle some of the other roasted veggies around the plate, top the trout with a few of the crispy mushrooms, squeeze some lemon and drizzle with olive oil.  Enjoy.

I tweaked the original Bon Appetit recipe a bit and only had a piece of puff pastry in the freezer and some pie crusts. I will write the recipe asking you to use only puff pastry, but feel free to do what we did and roll out defrosted pie crusts, shape into a rectangle and line the outside of the tart with strips of puff pastry. It works just as well!

The taste of this tart was light and chewy. Using various different veggies and ricotta over all eggs helped me convince myself that I was eating healthy. Even after a few helpings, I knew I was kidding myself but I’ve never been one of those fools that really believed that “a moment on the lips is a lifetime on the hips”. If I did I’d be much thinner and this blog would not exist, clearly!

Btw… thanks to our friend at Serious Eats who featured this post in their “Blogwatch” section recently.   Gracias!

ASPARAGUS, CREMINI AND TOMATO TART WITH RICOTTA AND PETITE JURASSIC CHEESE

Ingredients:

• 2 sheet of thawed puff pastry (1/2 of a 17.3 oz. package)
• 1 egg, beaten
• about 10 to 12 asparagus spears
• 6-8 grape tomatoes, sliced in half
• 6-8 cremini mushrooms (or white/brown mushrooms), sliced in half
• 1/2 cup whole-milk ricotta cheese
• 4 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
• pinch of salt
• 6 slices of thinly-sliced genoa salami, soppressata or other sliced cured meat of your choice
• 2/3 cup grated Petite Jurassic cheese (or Gruyere, Swiss or Comte cheese)

What to do:

• Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Roll out puff pastry on floured surface and roll into a large rectangle (about the size of a long baking sheet). Cut 1/2 inch of puff pastry from each side and brush the sides with a bit of the beaten egg. Place 1/2 inch pieces all along the edges of the puff pastry tart so that the egg is the binding ingredient. Transfer to a baking sheet.
• Steam asparagus until so it’s crisp-tender – about 2 to 3 minutes. Shock in an ice bath to keep color and texture. Chop the bottom 2 inches of the asparagus off and puree these in a food processor along with the rest of the beaten egg, ricotta, the olive oil and pinch of salt. Transfer to bowl.
• Spread the asparagus puree on the bottom of your tart, reserving a few tablespoons. It will fill up to about 1/8 of an inch high. Make sure it is coated evenly. Nestle the pieces of salami into the puree in random places around the tart. Sprinkle your cheese around the tart as well and put your remaining tablespoons of asparagus puree over the pieces of salami (so to cover them).
• Add your sliced grape tomatoes, asparagus spears and mushrooms to the top of the tart – make it look pretty, why not.
• Drizzle some olive oil over the top and bake about 25 to 30 minutes or until the filling is set. Serve warm or cold along with a salad or for breakfast with a runny egg.

Check out some other posts you may enjoy:

• Lemongrass Beef Shortribs
  
• Watercress & Ricotta Ravioli with Radicchio Butter Sauce
• Ensalada de Cabrales (Thin Sliced Apple Salad with Cabrales Cheese & Chive)
• Parsley, Parmigiano and Garlic Roasted Artichokes

There are a handful of things that have made Genoa famous, amongst them pesto and Christopher Columbus. Interestingly, in all the many, many stories told by Scheherazade (to persuade the emir not to have her killed) in the Arabian Nights, the only European city to be mentioned is Genoa. And, when you visit the city it is immediately apparent why Arabs, used to the mazy streets of the souks of North Africa and the Middle East, could base tales of intrigue and deception there.

Set on the side of a series of steep hillsides on Italy’s Ligurian coast, Genoa (Genova) has remarkably medieval feel to it with its rabbit-warren streets lined tightly with buildings that prevent sunlight from reaching the ground. This, together with the soupy local patios with its French and Portugese inflections, and you almost feel like you’ve left modern Italy and arrived somewhere in the 13th century.

All of which sounds terribly romantic and redolent of mystery and adventure, and, well, it is, except when you’re entering the city at rush hour without a clear idea of where your hotel is, and you desperately need to pee after a three hour drive. Happily though, once installed in our B & B and fortified by a few glasses of wine – hastily thrown back, we began exploring the city’s mazy streets in the growing dusk, emerging periodically, like moles from a hole, onto a variety of piazzas wondering how the hell we got there, and thoroughly enjoying it.

Eventually, we found some semblance of bearings, so that the next day we managed to locate a restaurant our host had recommended for its typical Genoese cuisine for lunch. The previous evening, we had dined on fried fresh anchovies and langostines near the harbor, and so that lunchtime we were looking for pasta. Call me predictable, but I had to have pesto, you know the basic pesto made just out of basil, pine nuts, parmigiano-reggiano and olive oil, so I ordered spinach tagliatelle with pesto alla Genovese. Amy, though, went for another Genovese specialty, ravoili with walnut cream sauce or salsa di noci.

Now, it’s not uncommon for us to rave on about something perfectly simple, and indeed, patient readers, this dish is precisely that, but at the same time, and as you probably know, we don’t get all worked up over nothing. This sauce really is a badass. Trust us, we wouldn’t steer you wrong. In fact, the only thing that could have made the remake – recipe below – as enjoyable as the original we ate in Genoa, would be if we could have placed another table in our apartment and installed the wiry, old gent who sat opposite us at it.

PASTA WITH SALSA DI NOCI (WALNUT SAUCE) AND MUSHROOMS (Serves 3-4)

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups walnuts, boiled for 25 minutes
• 1 cup of parmigiano reggiano
• 1/4 cup lite cream
• 1/2 cup milk
• 2 slices white bread soaked in milk
• 1 pack of mushrooms (your choice – we used white button)
• salt and pepper
• 1 pound pasta (we used long fusilli)
• optional: fresh thyme for garnish
• blender or food processor

What to do:

1. This is so easy to make, I could cry. Boil your walnuts for 25 minutes to remove some of the bitterness and soften. Drain and set aside.
2. On a plate or in a deep dish, soak two pieces of crustless, cheap white bread in some milk so it soaks it all up. Allow to sit for 5 minutes or so.
3. Get out your blender or food processor. Throw on some extra salted water to boil for the pasta.
4. In a pan, add your sliced mushrooms along with some olive oil or a pat of butter and saute until firm-soft.
5. Blitz the walnuts until fine first then blend all the rest of the ingredients together : the milk-soaked bread, the walnuts, the cheese, milk and cream along with a pinch of salt to taste. Add your pasta to the boiling water and cook till al dente.
6. Add the sauce to the pan with the cooked mushrooms, stir and warm on low for a bit. When pasta is done, add a bit of the pasta water to the sauce (maybe 3 tablespoons at most) and then add your drained pasta to the warming walnut sauce. Toss.
7. Plate your pasta and top with some fresh thyme, a bit of freshly ground pepper and some extra parmigiano. Enjoy with a big glass of red wine.

Wow… that title is a bit long, but it’s the best description I could come up with. This meal is absolutely delicious, quick and cheap. It is adapted from our favorite master chef – Jacques Pepin. On his PBS show Fast Food My Way (WATCH IT!!!), Jacques creates seemingly difficult and creative dishes in no time. He never attempts to wow you with his personality (charming, sweet, truly charismatic), made-up stories to keep you interested (unless you count recollections of his mother’s cooking in France growing up which you really know are true and actually want to hear) or his K-RAZY catch phrases (only at the beginning with a “Happy Cooking!” in his lovely French accent). Jacques is a true master in the food world and every time I watch him I not only immediately relax, but I always learn something new. I am in awe of him and I not-so-secretly wish he was my grandfather (no offense to my real grandfathers whom I love/loved very much).

Jacques original dish is called Bowtie Pasta with Fried Egg and Cheese. His recipe is very, very nice, but I tweaked it a bit. We love garlic and had to add it. Jacques uses gruyere cheese, but we’ve also done this dish with shredded mozzarella and fontina cheese. Both melt extremely well and give the dish an excellent flavor. Topping the pasta with a runny, fried egg brings this dish to another level. Make SURE you don’t overcook the egg! You’ll want that yolk to run all throughout the pasta, mixing with the other ingredients, almost creating a sauce. I’m salivating thinking about it now.

I’ve also entered this recipe in Real Epicurean’s “In The Bag” May event.  Check out this blog for some delicious recipe!

PASTA WITH LEEKS, ASPARAGUS, MUSHROOMS, GRUYERE AND A FRIED EGG

• 1/2 – 3/4 of a box of short pasta, whole wheat if you so choose (gemelli, penne, rigatoni, cavatelli, etc.)
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1/2 shallot, minced (optional)
• 1 leek, cleaned and thinly sliced
• 6 asparagus spears (make sure to cut off the woody bottom), grilled and then sliced into 2 inch pieces (you can also boil them or saute them if you don’t have a grill pan)
• 5 white button mushrooms, thickly sliced (1/4 inch slices)
• 1/4 pound shredded Gruyere cheese (or mozzarella, fontina)
• a palmful of shredded Parmigiano Reggiano cheese
• 2 tablespoons butter
• olive oil
• salt and pepper
• peperoncino (optional)

What to do:

1. Heat up your grill pan (if you have one, if not, skip to #2)
2. In a medium-high heated pan, suate your mushrooms in some olive oil. Sprinkle with a bit of salt. As soon as they take on bit of color (about 2 minutes), add your leeks and saute until soft. Mushrooms should not be mushy, but have a bit of give. If you over-saute them, no biggie. I just like the taste of a bit of firmness along with the asparagus… you may not care. Reserve in a bowl on the side.
3. Grill your asapargus spears on your indoor or outdoor grill. Allow to cool and then cut into 2 inch pieces. (NOTE: If you do not have a grill pan, cut your raw asapargus into 2 inch pieces and saute in a bit of olive oil until cooked through – 3-4 minutes or so).
4. Boil your water for the pasta and cook for alloted time until al dente.
5. While pasta is cooking, in a tablespoon of butter and a tablespoon of olive oil, gently saute your shallots and garlic on medium-low (if you have the time, do it on low), so that they not only cook, but the flavor infuses into the butter/olive oil (5-8 minutes).
6. In a separate pan, fry an egg in some olive oil. Make sure to only fry it on the other side for a second in order to keep the yolk runny! That makes the dish! Keep warm until ready.
7. Drain your pasta, reserving about 1/2 a cup of the cooking liquid. Add your pasta to the pan with the shallots/garlic/butter/olive oil mixture (pan should be on low/medium-low heat. Add one more pat of butter (about a tablespoon) and toss. Next, add a dash of pasta water (about 1/4 cup at most), add back the other veggies and toss. Add a pinch of salt to your liking (always taste!). If you would like a stronger garlic flavor, add a pinch of garlic powder (NOT garlic salt if you’ve already added salt). Toss again.
8. Add your gruyere first and then the parmagiano cheese. Continue to toss pasta until cheese is completely integrated into the dish and melted.
9. Serve immediately, top each dish with a fried egg and some optional peperoncino if you want to add a kick to it.

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