Fettuccine with Asparagus, Artichokes, and Ramps

It’s déjà vu all over again. Those who get email notifications of my posts may recognize today’s blog entry from an errant notification sent out 2 weeks go, an embarrassing case of premature publication. Let that be a lesson for us all. Be sure to change the “Publish immediately” option to a date in the future, lest you post prematurely. And to think, one of the reasons that this entry was still in editing was because I didn’t have an introduction. Ha!

Moving right along, last week’s post shared two of Mom’s recipes for preparing baby artichokes. I had originally intended to include today’s pasta recipe with those but the post’s length became an issue. The week prior’s post, Makin’ Feta, was really quite long and I didn’t wish to inflict 2 long posts in a row upon you. Besides, in a few weeks we’ll be making mozzarella. Those posts are going to rival feta for being the most lengthy on this site, so,  I’ll try to keep the posts short for you until then.

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Although it took place in a downpour, my first trip to the area’s best farmers market was a good one. In a mad dash to one stall, I bought this year’s rosemary bush, some freshly picked asparagus, and wild ramps. The sprint & transaction took under 5 minutes. Max barely had a chance to get comfortable in my seat in the car before I was telling him to move over. Once home, with everything unpacked and put away, the question became what to do with the morning’s bounty. Well, give me some veggies and I’ll make a pasta. This time I went back to an old favorite for inspiration and the result was my Pasta Primavera.

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Fettuccine With Asparagus, Artichokes, and Ramps

La Primavera is Italian for the Spring and today’s pasta features 3 vegetables that are synonymous with Spring: asparagus, artichokes, and ramps. Although ramps are no longer in season here, my Friends to the North may still be able to find them. If not, feel free to substitute a few Spring onions, thinly sliced, reserving the green ends for garnish. There’s still plenty of asparagus available at the market and, as you may recall from last week, I’ve a nice stash of artichokes in the deep freeze.  So, with these ingredients, this pasta will just about prepare itself.  Now, as much as I enjoy a cream sauce, it would only mask rather than accent the delicate ramps. As a result, I prepared this pasta similar to Aglio e Olio, but with ramps used instead of garlic and with artichokes and asparagus added to the mix. As such, the dish is certainly simple enough to prepare but its success lies in the timing. Remember it is better to have the sauce ready and waiting for the pasta than the reverse. No one likes mushy pasta.

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To begin, prep the vegetables. The baby artichokes should be cleaned, trimmed, and blanched. Thaw if frozen.  The asparagus, if large, should be peeled and all should be chopped into pieces about 1 inch long. Reserve the tips. The ramp leaves should be removed from the bulbs, washed, dried, and hand-torn.The ramp bulbs should have the root-end trimmed, washed, and thinly sliced. Use as much of each vegetable as you prefer, given the amount of pasta to be served.

In a large frying pan over medium heat, add about 4 tbsp of olive oil. When hot, add as many red pepper flakes (or dried red pepper) as you like and sauté for about a minute before adding the trimmed, sliced ramps. Continue sautéing for about a minute before adding the cleaned & blanched artichokes. Season with salt & pepper and continue to sauté until the artichokes are cooked to your liking.

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Meanwhile, remember the timing concern as you bring a pot of water to boil. If you’re using fresh, home-made pasta, the fettuccine will cook in but a couple of minutes. Add the chopped asparagus spears to the boiling water when you add the salt & fettuccine. If using store-bought dried pasta, package directions will usually advise a cooking time of from 5 to 11 minutes. Depending upon how crisp you like your asparagus, add it to the pot with the fettuccine 2 to 5 minutes before the pasta is to be cooked al dente.

When the pasta is just shy of al dente, add a little pasta water, the asparagus tips, and the ramp leaves to the frying pan & stir. Reserve 1 cup of the pasta water as you drain and add the pasta to the frying pan. Mix well and by now the pasta should be al dente. Take the pan off of the heat and add as much grated Parmesan or Pecorino Romano cheese as you like but not so much that the ramps’ flavor is overwhelmed. Mix well, adding enough of the reserved pasta water as needed to fully moisten the fettuccine. Serve garnished with additional grated cheese, chopped parsley, and, of course, freshly cracked pepper.

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Fold, Cut, & Unfurl Fettuccine

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One More Thing

Aglio e Olio is quick to prepare and a very versatile recipe. In fact, the very day I made this dish for supper, Claire, of Promenade Plantings, shared her delicious recipe for Aglio e Olio using her home-grown, purple sprouting broccoli instead of the vegetables that I used. Not but a few days later, Celi over at The Kitchen’s Garden made her tasty version of Aglio e Olio using Chinese cabbage and thinly sliced sausage. See? If you learn how to make this basic pasta, you can use it to take full advantage of a variety of in-season vegetables throughout the year. What? No vegetables? Grab some shrimp. I told you it’s versatile!

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Artichokes Two Ways

Carciofi Due Modi

As I’ve mentioned to a few of you, I’ve had a devil of a time finding “baby” artichokes here in Chicago. Sure, I can get the goliaths year-round and, about this time of the year, the stores have some that are at about half that size. The truly small artichokes, however, the ones with no choke, have been impossible to find and it’s not for lack of trying. I routinely shop at 4 different groceries, 2 ethnic markets, and 2 additional fruit/vegetable markets. Whether I’m searching too late/early in the season or I’m living in a heretofore unknown baby artichoke-free zone, it’s been well over 10 years since the green beauties have graced my table — until now.

Recently, my vegetarian friend, Cynthia, and I decided to head West to the hinterlands. We’d both heard tales of an Italian market “out there” but never ventured to find out for ourselves. Not much more than a half-hour later, we were there and what a store! First off, the place was huge, easily the largest Italian market that I’ve ever seen. They had everything from antipasti to zuppe, and very often several choices for everything in between.  The best surprise, though, was found in the produce department.

There, at the end of one of the aisles, was not 1 but 2 displays of artichokes and, much to my delight, one of them was nothing but small artichokes. To say I was happy is a gross understatement.  So, with Cynthia perusing the rest of the fruits and vegetables, I got to work selecting only the smallest of the small artichokes. I didn’t care how long it took but I was going to find them. About 10 minutes later, I had amassed some 5 pounds of the edible thistles, all about the size of a goose egg. We soon finished our shopping and snacked on mini-conolli as we drove back to civilization. The next morning, I couldn’t wait to get started preparing my find.

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Acid Washed

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Preparing Baby Artichokes

Just like when preparing the goliaths, use a sharp knife to chop off the top of each artichoke. I usually chop just above the tips of the largest outer leaves. Next, peel off a couple of layers of the tough, outermost leaves, revealing the vegetable’s soft inner heart. Using a paring knife, peel the base and stalk of each artichoke and, depending on the size, cut it in half or quarters. Being so small, there is no choke to remove and be sure to save as much of the stem as possible. When finished with each, immediately rub the sections with a halved lemon and place in acidulated water. (Take a large bowl of cold water and add to it the juice of 2 lemons, as well as the lemons themselves.) This “bath” will prevent the vegetable from discoloring due to oxidation.  Continue until all the artichokes have been cleaned and trimmed.

Next bring a large pot of salted water to boil, add all the trimmed artichokes, and, when the water returns to the boil, leave them to blanch for about 3 minutes. Drain them and immediately place the blanched sections into a bowl of ice water to halt the cooking process. Once chilled, removed them from the water, pat them dry, and they are now ready for use. In my case, having bought 5 pounds of the green gems, that meant the freezer for most of them. Small amounts, destined for pasta or pizza, were individually bagged, as were larger quantities which would be prepared as side dishes in the near future. Once labelled, the bags were placed in the freezer.

So, with a treasure of cleaned and trimmed baby artichokes stashed away, what are you going to do with them? Well — and this is where the due modi come into play — I’ve got 2 of Mom’s recipes to share today.

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Fry Babies

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Mom’s Deep Fried Artichokes

Mom didn’t prepare baby artichokes like this very often but, when she did, they certainly didn’t linger long on the serving platter. I think you’ll find the same will hold true today, no matter how you serve them: as a side, an appetizer, or snack on game day. And if you’re working with previously trimmed and blanched artichokes, they’re a snap to prepare.

Whether using freshly blanched or just thawed, pat the artichokes dry as best you can. Use standard breading methods to coat the artichokes. Since I prefer a thin coating on these, I do not use bread crumbs. Instead, I’ll coat the artichoke pieces in seasoned flour (paprika & onion powder) first before dipping them in an egg wash that’s been seasoned with salt & pepper. Then it’s back into flour again before deep frying in vegetable oil that’s been heated from 350˚ to 360˚ F. Since the baby artichokes were previously blanched, they won’t need to cook for a long time. When the coating is golden brown, they’re done. Remove them to drain on paper towels, season with salt, and serve. Although fine just as they are, I’ll sometimes serve them with lemon wedges and/or a simple aioli of mayonnaise, lemon juice, and a little grated garlic. If possible, prepare the aioli a few hours before serving to give the flavors a chance to blend.

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Mom’s Sautéed Artichokes

Mom most often prepared these artichokes as she did many vegetables. (See my Vegetables/Verdura posting.) If using fresh artichokes, trim and blanch as indicated above. If cleaned but frozen, allow to defrost before use. In a frying pan over medium heat, add a couple tbsp of olive oil. Once heated, add some chopped garlic, wait a minute, and then add the artichokes. Wait another 2 minutes and then add a little tomato paste or chopped tomato, “For color,” as Mom would say. Add a splash of dry white wine, season with salt & pepper, and continue to sauté until the wine is all but gone and the artichokes are cooked to your liking. Serve immediately, garnished with fresh parsley.

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Notes

This is all well and good, so long as you can get baby artichokes. But what if you can’t? Both of these dishes can be prepared with artichokes of any size.  Just be aware that larger-sized artichokes have developed an inedible “choke.” It’s a fibrous mass found at the base of the bulb and it must be removed. Once you’ve trimmed and halved an artichoke, use a paring knife or teaspoon to scoop out the fibrous mass. Once the choke has been removed and depending upon how large the artichoke is, you may need to cut each half into halves or thirds before proceeding. As you may have guessed, because of their size, these artichoke pieces should be blanched a few minutes longer than the “babies” were and will require longer cooking times, too. Personally, I prefer to stuff and roast the larger artichokes, leaving the sautéing and deep frying for the more tender babies.

Coming Attractions

Today I shared Mom’s favorite recipes for preparing baby artichokes. Next week I’ll share my Pasta Primavera recipe that features baby artichokes, of course, as well as a couple of other Springtime treats.

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Pappardelle with Spinach, Mascarpone and Pecorino Romano Cheeses

Last month, I posted instructions for making mascarpone cheese at home. Within that post, I included pictures of suggested uses for the cheese. One of those dishes pictured is today’s recipe, pappardelle with spinach, mascarpone, and Pecorino Romano cheese.

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Hand-Cut Pappardelle with Spinach, Mascarpone and Pecorino Romano Cheeses

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I started making mascarpone cheese a couple of years ago, shortly after I made my first batch of cream cheese. When I went to buy the dairy products needed to make the cheese that first time, I mistakenly bought quarts instead of pints. Once home, I read through the recipe just prior to beginning. That’s when I noticed my error but, at that point, what was I to do? One way or another that whipping cream was going to be used so I might as well make a double-batch of mascarpone. So, I did — and ended up with 2 lbs. of the creamy cheese! With a shelf-life of about 1 week, I needed more ways to cook with mascarpone, and fast. One can only eat so many jalapeño poppers or berries with mascarpone in 7 days.

Searching the web, I soon learned that there were a number of pasta recipes that use mascarpone as the base for a cream sauce. It makes perfect sense, for it’s nothing but cream. Well, after a couple of minutes, I came across a recipe by Jamie Oliver. Now, I’ve followed a few of his recipes and always had good results — and this recipe was no different. And although I’ve made a few changes to the original recipe, the basics remain the same: pasta and spinach are bathed in a rich, nutmeg-flavored mascarpone-cream sauce. It’s as good as advertised and now, whenever I make mascarpone, I make sure to reserve some for this dish.

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Pappardelle with Spinach, Mascarpone and Pecorino Romano Cheeses

Ingredients

  • 1 lb pappardelle
  • 2 tbsp olive oil
  • 2 tbsp butter
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • ½ to 1 tsp freshly ground nutmeg
  • 9 oz pkg (255 g) baby spinach, chopped
  • 5 oz mascarpone
  • 4 oz whipping cream
  • 10 – 12 basil leaves, chopped
  • ½ cup grated Pecorino Romano cheese
  • pasta water
  • salt & pepper, to taste
  • grated Pecorino Romano cheese
  • cracked black pepper (optional)

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Directions

  1. Cook the pappardelle according to package directions. If using home-made, be aware that it will cook in a few minutes. Time the pasta so that it is finished when the spinach-cream sauce is ready.
  2. Meanwhile, in a large frying pan, melt the butter in the olive oil over med-high heat. Add the garlic and nutmeg and sauté for about a minute.
  3. Add the spinach and continue cooking until the it’s fully wilted and much of the liquid has boiled away. Season with salt & pepper.
  4. Add whipping cream and mascarpone, stirring until well combined. Add a little pasta water to slightly thin the spinach-cream sauce. Bring to a simmer. Season with salt & pepper, to taste.
  5. Drain the cooked pasta and add to the frying pan. Stir well to combine.
  6. Add the basil and Pecorino Romano and stir well. If pasta seizes (too dry), add enough pasta water to moisten the pasta to your liking.
  7. Serve garnished with a good sprinkling of grated Pecorino Romano cheese and optional cracked black pepper.
Inspired by Jamie Oliver
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Fold, Cut, Unfurl

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Coming Attractions

In the weeks ahead, I’ll revisit the mascarpone post to share recipes for the berry parfaits and the jalapeño poppers that were pictured in that post. In the meantime, there will be a post on dog treats and, as promised, I’ll show you all how to make feta cheese. Though a little more challenging than any that we’ve made thus far, making feta cheese is certainly within the capabilities of virtually all who read this post. Believe me, if I can make it, so can you.

One More Thing

As sometimes happens in the blogosphere, a fellow blogger posted another pasta with mascarpone recipe today. Posted in A Dash of Sugar and Spice, Stefanie’s recipe features shrimp as well as the flavors of lemon and garlic. So, if my recipe today isn’t for you, perhaps hers will be.

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You, too, can make Pizzoccheri Pasta at home!

Today, I will once again stray from the Bartolini recipe file and show you how to make another pasta. This one, made with buckwheat, is called pizzoccheri, and originated in the most northern part of the Italian peninsula.  I first heard of this pasta, and its namesake dish, from a fellow blogger “MusingMar” when she shared the recipe for this unusual dish last February in her blog, Life Through the Kitchen Window. If you’ve not met Mar, I hope you take a few minutes to visit her WordPress “home”. Similar to my documenting my family’s recipes for future Bartolini, Mar is gathering her recipes as a gift for her children. And what a gift it will be! Her blog features  delicious recipes that are well-written, easy to follow, and beautifully photographed. One day, her kids will thank her but, in the meantime, we’re welcome to have a peak and even “borrow” a few.

When Mar posted her recipe for pizzoccheri, she called it “Italian Comfort” — and is it ever! This pasta dish features potatoes and cabbage, with some butter, garlic, and sage thrown in for good measure. Oh! Did I mention the Fontina and Parmesan cheeses? Yes, this is one hearty dish, made even more so by its buckwheat noodles. And this is where I got involved. When Mar posted her recipe, she mentioned that she makes it with regular fettuccine since she’s been unable to find buckwheat noodles. She asked if I could be of help. Well, I love a challenge, so, of course I agreed.

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"Italian Comfort"

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First, I searched the web and learned that the dish originated along Italy’s border with Switzerland. As Mario Batali is quick to point out, the northern districts of Italy use eggs and “double zero” flour  in their pasta dough and, as you travel south, the flour is mixed with semolina and water is used with the eggs. When you get to the very south, the dough can be all semolina with little or no egg used at all. Well, since this pasta came from the extreme north, chances are its dough was all double zero flour and eggs, without any semolina or water used. Knowing that, I began searching the web and weeded out recipes that didn’t seem to have originated in the north. One memorable recipe used Grappa and Vermouth!?!? Seeing that, I decided to go ahead and trust my own instincts.

Based roughly on Mom’s dough recipe, I used a 4 to 1 ratio, meaning 2 cups of buckwheat flour and ½ cup of  all-purpose (AP) flour. I also used 3 eggs but the dough was too dry and I had to add some liquid. An egg would have been too much so I added about 2 tbsp of water to the food processor. After it rested for 30 minutes, I treated it like I would any pasta dough and cut the pasta by hand. In all, I ended up with a little over a pound of pizzoccheri pasta. While they cooked up just fine, the pasta broke into small pieces when everything was assembled for the oven and, although the finished dish tasted great, it certainly wasn’t the most appealing thing I’ve ever served myself. Not only that, since I used the entire batch of pizzoccheri pasta in the dish, I had plenty — and I do mean plenty — of pizzoccheri to eat during the following week. As luck would have it, pizzoccheri week was followed by the boiled dinner days of March. One could say that I enjoyed more than my fair share of cabbage during that time period and pizzoccheri was off of the menu for a spell.

Finally, this past Friday I decided to try again. Having spoken with Zia, we agreed that my first attempt failed because it needed more gluten to hold the noodles together and that I rolled the dough too thin.  This time around, I used 2 parts buckwheat flour to 1 part AP flour. Again, I only used eggs and the dough handled much better, although still not as easy as regular pasta dough. Once the dough was made, I followed Mar’s recipe and this time the noodles “survived”. This pizzoccheri was not only delicious but it looked great, too. Success!

Today’s recipe is from that final, successful attempt. Although I only made 12 oz. of pasta, you can easily adjust the recipe to make more or less, depending upon your needs. As mentioned above, use a ratio of 2 parts buckwheat flour to one part AP flour and I estimate 1 egg is needed for every 75g of flour. Be aware that buckwheat flour is heavier than AP flour and that’s why I used weight, rather than volume, measurements the second time around. (Where volume measurements are given in the recipe that follows, they are my best guess approximation.) Your dough will be a little more moist than normal pasta dough but should not be sticky. This dough dries faster than most and the extra moisture will be needed as your roll it out and cut the pasta. Work quickly and do not roll it as thin as you normally would for fettuccine or pappardelle. Additionally, do not allow the sheets to dry as much as you would normal pasta before it’s cut into noodles. If it is too dry, the pizzoccheri dough sheets will become brittle and break as you prepare to cut them by hand or when passing them through your pasta cutters. As complicated as this all may seem, once you start working with the dough, especially if you’ve pasta-making experience, you’ll see what I mean. Really, it’s a little tricky but not nearly as impossible as this may sound.

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How To Make Home-Made Pizzoccheri Pasta

Ingredients

yield: approx 12 oz pasta dough

  • 150 g buckwheat flour (about 1¼ cups)
  • 75 g AP flour (about  ⅔ cup)
  • 3 large eggs
  • pinch of salt

Directions

  1. Place all ingredients in a food processor and process until a dough ball forms, usually within about 30 seconds.
  2. Remove dough and knead on a floured surface for a few minutes. Cover with an overturned bowl or plastic wrap and allow to rest at least 30 minutes and no more than 60. If you must rest dough longer than an hour, refrigerate it until you’re ready to roll it out.
  3. To roll the dough:
    1. If using a rolling pin, roll the dough until about twice as thick as you would when making fettuccine.
    2. If using a stand mixer rolling attachment or hand cranked pasta machine with “1” as the widest setting, pass the dough repeatedly through the rollers, increasing the number setting each time, up to and including the “4” setting.
    3. If your roller gizmo’s widest setting is “10”, pass the dough repeatedly through the rollers, decreasing the number setting each time, up to and including the “6” setting.
  4. Allow dough sheets to dry a bit but not as much as you would for normal pasta dough.
  5. Cut each sheet into 12 inch sections.
  6. If using stand mixer or hand cranked pasta cutters:
    1. Pass the sheets individually through the largest pasta cutters, usually fettuccine-sized.
    2. Place newly cut fettuccine aside on a floured surface and repeat the process for all the dough sheets.
  7. To cut by hand (see poorly focused pictures below):
    1. One by one, lightly flour each sheet, fold it in half, then in half again.
    2. Using a sharp knife or pastry cutter, trim off the  2 ends of the folded dough sheet (sfoglia).
    3. Cut your noodles. Tagliatelle are no less than ¼ inch (6.4 mm) wide. Fettuccine are no less than ⅓ inch wide (8.4 mm). Pappardelle are no less than ½ inch (12.7 mm) wide.
    4. Unroll the cut sections to produce the noodles, place the newly cut pasta aside, and repeat the process until all the dough sheets have been cut.
  8. When finished, cover the noodles with a clean kitchen towel and use ASAP in Mar’s pizzoccheri recipe.

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The dough sheets must be well-floured to prevent them from sticking when folded and cut.

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Now, I realize that  this may seem like a difficult process just to make some pasta, especially for the inexperienced pasta maker. As I’ve mentioned, if you’ve made pasta at home, my precautions will make sense and this will probably not seem so difficult. If you haven’t,  I’d suggest you start with a regular pasta dough recipe (see Mom’s Pasta Dough) before attempting this one. This dough is not nearly as “forgiving” as normal pasta dough and, as such, is not a good dough to use when learning the ropes of pasta making. Besides, you can always use regular fettuccine or tagliatelle noodles in your pizzoccheri or, if you must have buckwheat, try soba noodles. Don’t let your noodle prevent you from enjoying a great dish!

And thank you, Mar. When all is said and done, I learned both a new recipe and how to make buckwheat pasta. Not a bad outcome.

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My Uncle’s Pasta (aka Cacio e Pepe … whatever!)

Being today is George Washington’s birthday, I’ve decided to come clean. Understand that there is no easy way for me to say this, so, I’m just going to blurt it out. I lied to you. Well-intentioned though I was, I nevertheless gave you false information. And, what’s worse, I did it not once but twice. Now, before you grab torches, gather en masse, and storm Chicago looking for me — by the way, if you do, be sure to take the Dan Ryan (hehehe) — let me explain …

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Back in October, 2010, my first real post was the recipe for Pasta in Bianco and, at the time, I said it was about the easiest pasta dish to make. And it is … sorta. Then, a year later, I shared the recipe for Spaghetti Aglio e Olio which I described as being “by far, the easiest (pasta dish) to prepare.” Well, it is … kinda. The truth is that there is a 3rd dish, an even easier dish to prepare, a dish that for decades I’ve prepared for myself and enjoyed as my own personal creation and that reminded me of Uncle. That is, until a few weeks ago when I found an authentic recipe that is identical to “my” recipe for Uncle’s Pasta. I could ignore it or, worse yet, try to convince everyone that my recipe is the original but, c’mon.  I’ve just confessed to 2 lies, committing a 3rd lie — especially one so obvious — would serve no purpose other than to further grease my path into Hades. So, I’ll take the high road and explain how I came upon this dish and, in an effort to make amends, I’ll throw in a little info on yet another obscure pasta, to boot.

Living in the old two-flat, there were many dinners where the families ate together and very often some form of pasta was served. My Uncle, like most, enjoyed grated cheese atop his pasta but, what set his plate apart from everyone else’s, was his love of black pepper. To my eye, he used more pepper than anyone seated at the table. Well, for this youngster, the aroma of grated Pecorino Romano mingling with the scent of freshly cracked pepper was intoxicating, made even more so because I was considered too young to have access to the pepper shaker. (As an unexpected benefit, however, when the nuns spoke of the Garden of Eden, I understood all too well Eve’s desire for the Forbidden Seasoning Fruit.) Well, I eventually grew up, as most young boys tend to do, and was finally able to add as much pepper to my pasta as I wanted — and I did. But wait, there’s more to this story because, up until now, I could have been talking about any pasta dish. I need to narrow the field a bit.

Once I moved away, I lived with a number of roommates until I could finally afford a place of my own. Back then, having a well-stocked pantry was not exactly high on my priority list. Let’s be honest, if not for “tissue”, coffee, and cat litter, I probably wouldn’t have seen the inside of a grocery for months at a time. Now, I’ve already blogged about my love for, and reliance upon, Spaghetti Aglio e Olio, pasta made with garlic and olive oil, but there were times when I didn’t have any olive oil. What to do? Well, I made my pasta without it, adding a bit more cheese, a couple more sprinkles of pepper, and some pasta water in its place. Moments later, I’d be seated at the dinner table where, with a single whiff, I was 6 years old again watching Uncle shower his pasta with pepper. So, for some 30 years, I’ve made this pasta, not just when out of olive oil but whenever I needed a pasta fix and the nostalgia bug hit me.  Over time, this pasta came to be called Uncle’s Pasta in my mind because its aroma reminded me of his plate during those family dinners of long ago.

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I’ll re-visit this picture when WordPress becomes scratch & sniff-enabled.

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With that in mind, you can well imagine my surprise when, a few short weeks ago whilst I was looking at pasta cutters, I learned that the people of Rome, and its district of Lazio, make a pasta called Cacio e Pepe, Cheese and Pepper, that is exactly like my Uncle’s Pasta! Now, rather than become bitter, I’ve decided to rise to the occasion and to turn this into a teaching opportunity. You see, the night that I became aware that the Romans had plundered my childhood memories and stolen my pasta recipe,  I was looking at a pasta maker called the chitarra. Italian for “guitar”, a chitarra is shirt box-sized with many wires or cords stretched, lengthwise, from one end to the other. A freshly made pasta sheet is laid on top of the “strings” and a rolling-pin is used to forcefully push the dough sheet through them to create pasta noodles. Although the width between the strings may vary from chitarra to chitarra, when they are set close enough together so that the distance is the same as the width of the pasta sheet, the result is a square-shaped pasta called tonnarelli. Often as thick as spaghetti, tonnarelli, not so coincidentally, are often used to make Cacio e Pepe. Never seen ’em? Guess again.  One very common “fresh” pasta’s cappellini is, in fact, tonnarelli. If you own a pasta machine, chances are it makes 2 types of pasta. The packaging will name the smaller of the 2 as being either cappellini or spaghetti. Um … no. One very popular stand mixer’s pasta cutter is advertised as making angel hair pasta. Again … no! These cutters are incapable of making a round pasta noodle and both cappellini and spaghetti are, in fact, round. If it’s a thin, square-shaped pasta, it’s tonnarelli. Now, if the pasta from your smallest cutter isn’t quite square, that’s probably because the pasta sheet wasn’t the same thickness as the cutter’s width. If you’re so inclined, vary the pasta sheet’s width and you’ll get your square tonnarelli.

My point isn’t to make sure everyone that sits at my dinner table, or that reads this, can identify the pasta set before them. No, not at all. It is to illustrate just how seriously the Italians take their pasta. For many, Emilia–Romagna is the home of Italy’s best pasta makers, with Bologna as its capital. True pasta aficionados from that region will claim that they can tell whether the pasta dough is rolled by hand or machine, with a wooden versus a steel rolling-pin, on a wooden board versus a stainless steel or marble counter top, etc., etc., etc. My father, when he saw Mom preparing to make pasta that day, would remind her to roll it out by hand as he left for work. Mom always assured him she would — and then got out the pasta machine before his car had made it to the end of the block. When dinner was served, could Dad tell the difference? Who knows but, like any loving husband, he knew when to keep quiet.

Wow! Such a long post for so simple a dish to prepare. I won’t be giving this recipe the full treatment because, frankly, it would be a waste of time. All you need is some pasta, freshly made is preferred but boxed spaghetti will do nicely; hot pasta water; some grated cheese, Pecorino Romano if possible; and freshly cracked/ground pepper.  I won’t be giving ingredient amounts because they will all depend upon the number of servings to be prepared and your own taste. You may not be as enamored with pepper as am I, after all.

While your pasta is cooking, warm the serving bowl. This can be done by pouring hot water from a tea kettle or via the tap. Once the pasta is cooked to your liking, reserve a  cup of the boiling pasta water before draining the pasta. No need to drain it fully. In fact, it’s better if you don’t. Work quickly now. Place the cooked pasta into the now-warmed serving bowl and season it very generously with the grated Pecorino Romano cheese. (Parmesan may be substituted.) Mix the pasta, adding more pasta water, a little at a time, so that it combines with the cheese to create a sauce-like dressing for the pasta. If it’s too dry, add more water; too wet, add more cheese. Once the pasta is evenly coated, add some pepper and stir. Remember, the dish is called Cacio e Pepe for a reason.

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With your pasta now appropriately dressed, serve it on warmed dinnerware.  Garnish each serving with a generous sprinkling of grated Pecorino Romano and another dusting of pepper. Now, before you sample this testament to simplicity, take a moment to savor the fragrances of freshly grated cheese and newly cracked pepper wafting up from your plate. Nothing more need be said.

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Pasta Cacio e Pepe

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Sis’s Soup with Little Meatballs (Minestra con Polpettine)

You might recall that last December, I demonstrated how to make quadretti, a small, square-shaped pasta. At some point, I mentioned Mom using this pasta in soup to nurse me back to health but that my Sister remembered differently. She recalled Mom serving broth filled with Acini di Pepe, “sick soup”, whenever she was ill. Well, since Monday was Sis’s birthday, why not share the recipe for her sick soup?

Soup made with Acini di Pepe is not a Bartolini tradition. Oh, sure, it was served plenty of times at the old two-flat but it wasn’t made from a recipe that had been handed down from one generation to the next. It came to us, oddly enough, from the Mother of my 5th grade teacher. Mr. D was from Upstate New York and my class was his first in Detroit. In fact, he arrived in my hometown barely 1 week before school started that September. Mr. D wanted to introduce himself to the parish and to our parents so, once classes started, he visited the home of each of his students. He chose the families alphabetically, making mine the second home he entered. And as was so often the case with newcomers who entered the two-flat, he hung around for a number of years — make that decades — afterwards. (There was a similar phenomenon in our backyard that involved Grandpa, our neighbors, and the Parish priests but I’ll save that for another post.) Eventually, Mr. D migrated upstairs, becoming good friends of Zia and Uncle.  At some point, and I do not recall how much time had transpired, his Mother and Aunt came to Detroit for a visit. It wasn’t long before they, too, became ensnared in the two-flat’s web of conviviality. Well, as luck would have it, both women were good cooks and during subsequent visits, recipes were traded. One of the very few recipes to survive is today’s minestra, Acini di Pepe with meatballs. (It took a while but I got us here.)

Acini di Pepe is a small, bead-like pasta that expands during the cooking process, much like couscous. Mom served it to Sis when her tummy was upset, just as she served me quadretti. As was her way, Doctor Mom started with broth only and gradually added increasing amounts of Acini di Pepe to the broth as Sis’s condition improved. The meatballs, polpettine, were never used for medicinal purposes. No, they were served when everyone was well and seated at the dinner table. And did we ever enjoy them. The lemon zest in the polpettine, when mixed with a hint of nutmeg, take this simple soup to an entirely different level. Now, if Acini di Pepe isn’t “your thing,” I strongly suggest you make the polpettine and use them with whatever pastina you prefer. Trust me. You won’t be disappointed.

Oh, yeah. Happy Birthday, Sis!

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Acini di Pepe with Meatballs Recipe

Ingredients

For the polpettine

  • 1/2 lb ground veal
  • 1/4 cup grated cheese, pecorino romano preferred
  • 1/2 cup plain bread crumbs
  • 1 large egg, slightly beaten
  • 1/8 tsp nutmeg
  • zest from 1/2 lemon
  • 2 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped
  • salt & pepper, to taste

For the minestra

  • 2 quarts homemade chicken stock (low-sodium store-bought may be substituted)
  • 1 cup Acini di Pepe, uncooked
  • additional grated pecorino romano

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Directions

To make polpettine

yield : approx. 100 polpettine, divided, half to be frozen for later use

  1. Place all the ingredients into a bowl and mix until combined. Do not over-work.
  2. Use a melon baller or small scoop to fashion small meatballs. (See Notes below.)
  3. Divide all the polpettine into 2 halves and place each on separate baking sheets.
  4. Place one baking sheet into the freezer and, once frozen, place the polpettine in a container, return to the freezer for use on a later date.
  5. Use the other half as indicated below.

To make the minestra

  1. Bring the stock to a rapid boil.
  2. Add the Acini di Pepe, stir, and then add the remaining half of the polpettine.
  3. When stock returns to the boil, reduce to a medium simmer and cook for about 10 minutes. Stir often but gently so that the polpettine remain intact.
  4. At the end of 10 minutes, taste the minestra to see if the pasta is cooked to your liking and to adjust seasoning, if necessary.
  5. Serve immediately. Have plenty of grated pecorino romano cheese available at the table.

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Notes

Polpettine are meant to be relatively small. One polpettino should easily fit upon a soup spoon with plenty of room left for pasta and broth. Although this recipe yields about 100 meatballs, I prefer to use only about half that amount in a 2 quart pot of soup. Of course, you may use more or less depending upon your own preference.

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And Now for the Awards Portion of  Today’s Presentation

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been lucky enough to have received a few awards from members within our blogging community. And lest anyone think that I do not appreciate these wonderful gifts, I wanted to make sure that each was acknowledged.

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So, to Marie, of My Little Corner of Rhode Island, I say thank you for generously nominating me for the Kreative Blogger Award.

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To Kathryn, of kiwsparks, and Eva, of Kitchen Inspirations, I say thanks for your thoughtfulness in granting me The (Red) Educational Shoe Award. (And to Greg: You’ll just have to wait before you get to see me in stilettos, be they red or some other color.)

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Finally, to Roger, of Food, Photography, & France, mere words cannot express the depth of emotion that I experienced upon learning you had nominated me for the Sunshine Award.

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OK, I know that I’m supposed to answer a variety of questions or volunteer some facts about myself and I must admit to enjoying reading others’ replies. The truth of the matter is, however, that I’m not all that interesting. I am no onion with many layers to be pulled back revealing inner truths. There is no art in this choke. What you see is what you get — and what you get is pretty boring, at that. Besides, what little there is to tell is fodder for my future posts. If I tell you everything about myself now, whatever will I write about next time or the time after that?  And so, to those who truly wish to learn more about me, I say “Stay tuned … “

The next part of any award acceptance is to pass the award along to deserving individuals. Well, there are 3 awards to pass along and I don’t even know how many bloggers, in total, I am to name. I do know, however, that no matter how many good people I nominate, I will surely forget one person and, in all probability, quite a few more. I have been treated kindly by everyone I’ve met here and encouraged in more ways than I could ever enumerate.  I’d sooner quit blogging than hurt or offend any of those who have treated me so graciously. So, rather than nominate many, I shall only nominate one.

A relative newcomer, this blogging friend has taught me a great deal. By her example, I’ve learned that less is more. That silence is truly golden. That to just be yourself and the World will be yours to conquer. And so it is that I nominate, for the Kreative Blogger, The (Red) Educational Shoe, and Sunshine awards, none other than …

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FLAT RUTHIE !!!!!

As soon as word of the awards became known, her friends carried her off to an impromptu party at Chicago’s Fondue Stube. Pictured above, Flat Ruthie is seen with one of her dearest of friends, Thing, as they await the arrival of the fondue pots. Oh, what a night!

So, congratulations Flat Ruthie! I for one, cannot wait to read your acceptance speech. (No fair helping her, 3D Ruth.)

And to Marie, Kathryn, Eva, and Roger, all joking aside, I am both honored and grateful for the awards you’ve sent my way. Mille grazie!

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The Bartolini Have Left The Building!

Yes, it’s true. The Bartolini kitchens have moved — for today only.

Recently, a blogger buddy, Jed, asked if I wouldn’t mind stopping by his place, sports-glutton.com, while he was away covering the AT&T Pro Am at Pebble Beach. Well, if there’s one thing you should know about this Bartolini, besides his undying love for pasta and intense hatred for spiders, is his fondness for travel. So, when Jed asked me to come for a visit, I couldn’t say “Yes!” fast enough. And I must say I love being here.

First and foremost, Jed’s is a blog about sports and sporting events. If something is happening within the World of Sports, Jed will take us there, not only reporting the event but explaining its significance in “the big picture.” This would be more than enough to keep most sports bloggers busy but not our Jed. In addition to these reports, Jed shares delicious recipes guaranteed to appeal to the glutton in all of us. Now, Jed understands that there’s more to life besides sports and eating.  So, he offers his critiques and ratings of select beers and wines in his Thirsty Thursday series of posts. And, finally, to help us all start our week off on the right foot, Jed serves up a little Monday Morning Humor each and every week.

Sporting news, tasty recipes, expert advice on beverage selection, and a bit of humor, sports-glutton.com has it all. So, please take this link to see my Pastistio Recipe and then take some time to look around and check out sports-glutton.com. You will not be disappointed.

Thanks, Jed, for giving me this opportunity to fill-in for you, even if only for a day. Oh! I almost forgot. It looks like someone broke into your wine cellar last night and stole a few bottles. They must have been real professionals because Max didn’t move all night long. Gotta run.

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Strozzapreti Pasta

Throughout much of modern history, the Italian language has had fewer words in its lexicon than most other languages, and that includes its cousins, the Romance languages. Granted, the gap has lessened over the last century but the fact that it existed at all is because Italian, being an ancient language, was so closely descended from Latin, an even more ancient language of even fewer words. So, when it came to identifying their pasta, Italians didn’t create new words but named each after the familiar object it resembled, both real and imagined. We Americans know some of their names but that’s just the tip of the meatball. There are pastas named after just about anything, from little tongues (linguine) to little ears (orecchiette) to the hair of an angel (capelli d’angelo). Some look like shoelaces (stringozzi), others like twine (spaghetti), and still others like ribbons (fettuccine). And then there are the shells, be they from the sea (conchiglie) or the land (lumache). There are the twins (gemelli), flowers (fiori), little bells (campanelle), and little radiators (radiatori). And we mustn’t overlook tortellini, which are said to resemble the navel of Venus. The list goes on and on, far too long to fully explore here. Instead, every now and again I’ll share one that I find interesting and, most importantly, easy to make by hand. To that end, I shared a recipe last May for one obscure pasta called fazzoletti, little handkerchiefs and, in December, Mom’s quadretti, little squares. Today, I thought that I’d share another, the name of which is sure to give you pause. It is strozzapreti, priest choker pasta.

I first learned of strozzapreti when Zia and I were in Florence in 2002. We had a good laugh when the waiter told us the legend behind the pasta’s name, although at the time, I mistakenly thought that he was merely giving us a sales pitch. According to the waiter, strozzapreti is so good that when it was invented and first served to priests, they devoured it so quickly that they choked. You must admit, if you’re trying to sell pasta, that’s a pretty good story to have up your sleeve. Move forward a few years. I’d forgotten all about the pasta until I heard some chef on television mention priests choking. After some web searching, I saw how the pasta was made and strozzapreti became a part of my pasta arsenal. There are, by the way, other legends involving the naming of this pasta but I’m sticking with the one I first learned. (Ya leave the dance with the one that brung ya.)

Strozzapreti are a twisted pasta, about 3 inches in length, vaguely reminiscent of cavatelli. Of course, cavatelli, being machine-made, are consistent in shape and length, while home-made strozzapreti are anything but — and therein lies its charm. Few would ever mistake a dish of home-made strozzapreti for a mass-produced pasta and no mass-produced pasta will ever taste nearly as good as home-made strozzapreti. The latter part of that statement is as good a reason as any for taking the time to make this pasta.

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How to Make Strozzapreti

To start, you’re going to need some dough. I’ve always used Mom’s Pasta Dough here and am perfectly happy with the results. Once you’ve made your dough and rolled it out, the rest is pretty easy, albeit repetitive. Take a dough sheet of about 12 inches long, fold in half, and in half again, until it is no more than 3 inches wide. With a sharp knife, cut tagliatelle-sized noodles and unfold each noodle, as needed. Once unfolded, start at one end and roll the noodle between your palms to create a twisted piece of pasta. Tear off a 3 inch piece and roll the remaining noodle, again and again, tearing off pieces as you go. You’ll find that your pasta will have a tighter spiral if you only roll them in one direction. Going back-and-forth will only wind and unwind the coil. Once you get the hang of it, you’ll manage to make each piece with a single pass between your palms.

One last thing worth mentioning involves the pasta dough. Usually, when you cut pasta, whether by hand or machine, the dough should be dry-ish to prevent the strands from sticking together while being cut. That’s not the case here. If the dough is too dry, the lower, dangling, part will break as you try to roll the upper part to form the strozzapreti. Not only that, you may find it nearly impossible to get enough traction between your palms and the noodle to get it to twist. If you find that you cannot roll the pasta between your palms, try moistening your hands just a bit. Bear in mind, however, that too much water will ruin the pasta. A scant drop of water spread between your palms should do the trick.

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Cut the dough into a strip about 12 inches long.

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Fold the strip in half

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Repeat at least one more time to create a sfoglia

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Cut the sfoglia into tagliatelle-sized pasta

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Unfold 1 noodle

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Place tip at the base of one palm and with other hand's fingertips ...

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... Begin to roll the noodle between your palms

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Tear off a 3 inch piece of the twisted pasta

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Repeat until the entire noodle has been twisted and cut into pieces

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Unfold another noodle and repeat the process until finished

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Tutto fatto!

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Cooked fresh in salted water, strozzapreti will be ready in minutes. If dried or frozen it will take a few minutes more. The pasta’s shape, in my opinion, lends itself to being served with pesto or a tomato sauce, with or without meat. Serve it garnished with grated cheese, while you tell the tale of choking priests, and you’re sure to have satisfied, as well as entertained, dinner companions.

Variations

Although I formed the strozzapreti by rolling the dough between my palms, you can make them using a slender rod or barbecue skewer. Once you’ve unfolded the tagliatelle-like noodle, cut it into 3 inch pieces. Place the rod atop each individual dough piece and roll the two, creating a spiral pasta. Remove the rod and repeat the process with another piece of dough.

Lidia Bastianich makes a version of strozzapreti that is a gnocchi-like dish. I have no doubt that her dish is called strozzapreti, just as I’ve no doubt that we were served the pasta that I’ve described above and it, too, was called strozzapreti. How can this be? Well, obviously, there’s more than one way to choke a priest.

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Quadretti Pasta

Most of us have warm and fuzzy memories of being nursed back to health by a loving caregiver, usually Mom, who served us a cup or bowl of soup. And you parents reading this are sure to have equally warm memories — some pretty recent — but from the other side of the covers. I’d be willing to bet that most of us were served soup made with a chicken-based stock or broth. What went into that broth, however, varied widely from house to house. In ours, Mom used either of 2 pastas, one of which is today’s recipe, quadretti.

Generally speaking, Mom relied upon 3 dishes to get me up-and-about. Breakfast would be a 3-minute egg, with or without buttered toast depending upon my stomach’s attitude.  My meals would be pasta in bianco. Aside from it being a traditional cure served to bambini with stomach ailments, Mom knew that I could’ve been at Death’s door and I would have agreed to at least try a little pasta in bianco. Between meals, though, there was a constant supply of broth which, as the recovery progressed, contained more and more pastina. Ask my Sister what Mom served her when ill and she’ll mention, without hesitation, Acini de Pepe, a tiny bead-like pasta. As for my Brother and me, it was quadretti all the way.

“Feeling better?”

Quadretti are square-shaped pastina that, as you’ll soon see, are quite easy to make. Whenever Mom made pasta of any kind, she would roll out the left-over dough and use it to make quadretti. (In true Italian tradition, absolutely nothing was wasted.) This she stored in a container, adding to it with each new batch of home-made pasta. Because she was always adding to her stash, she rarely had to devote a batch of pasta dough to making quadretti. When combined with the quart or 2 of chicken stock she was sure to have on-hand for risotto,  Mom was always prepared when one of us was feeling under the weather.

One more thing before getting to the directions and this is for soup novices. You will get better results if you only make enough soup with quadretti for as many bowls as will be served in 1 meal. If you make a large batch of soup with quadretti and store it in the fridge, when you bring it out of the fridge, you may be surprised to find that the noodles have absorbed a great deal of the broth. Not only that but, depending upon how much quadretti you put into the soup, you my have very little broth left at all. So, before you add the quadretti to your soup, take into consideration that the noodles will swell a bit during cooking and later in storage. Better to make just enough soup for one meal and store the raw quadretti separately from the broth/stock.

Don’t let any of this deter you from making this pasta. Just as you cannot compare a dish of home-made linguine with store-bought, you will not find a mass-produced pasta that comes close to the taste of home-made quadretti. It just ain’t gonna happen!

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How To Make Quadretti

A half batch of Mom’s Pasta Dough will give you about 2/3 to 3/4 lb of fresh pasta dough. That should be more than enough for most soup recipes. Once the dough has rested, you must roll it out, either manually or by machine. If doing it by hand, roll it until it is as thin as you would when making ravioli. If using a machine that, like mine is at its widest when the setting is number “1,” then pass the dough through the rollers, repeatedly, advancing the setting with each pass, up-to-and-including the number “6” setting. If your rollers, like Zia’s, work the opposite of mine and their widest setting is number “10,” then pass the dough repeatedly through the rollers, decreasing the setting with each pass, down-to-and-including the number “5” setting. Once you’ve attained the proper thickness, cut the dough strip into sheets 2 to 3 feet long, and follow the steps outlined in the images below. Be sure to allow the dough sheets to dry sufficiently. If the sheets are too moist, the quadretti will stick together when you cut them. If too dry, the dough sheet will crack and break as you try to fold it to create the sfoglia.

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Fold dough sheet in half,

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Continue to fold in half repeatedly until a sfoglia of about 2 to 4 inches wide is created.

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Starting at one end, begin cutting sfoglia into strips, no thicker than the width of linguine.

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Carefully turn a number of the noodles 90* and begin cutting, again as if cutting linguine.

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Gently separate the freshly cut quadretti.

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Spread out to dry before freezing or refrigerating in an airtight container until use.

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See? A pasta cannot be easier to make by hand and, if you’ve never enjoyed home-made pasta in your broth, you’re in for a real treat. Keep a container of quadretti in the back of your freezer and if, heaven forbid, you’re feeling under the weather, a mug of your home-made broth with a sprinkling of quadretti is just what my “Doctor Mom” would have ordered.

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Filling for Ravioli dei Bartolini

The Bartolini Girls made 2 versions of filling for their pasta. One, used in cappelletti, was served in soup while the other was for ravioli and dressed in sauce. A couple of years ago, I decided to try my hand at making sausage ravioli, using our family sausage recipe. The results were good enough to serve Zia, gain her approval, and now the Bartolini Clan has 3 ravioli fillings made with meat. Today I’m going to share the “saucy” filling; we’ll get to the “soupy” and sausage fillings in later posts.

I have 2 versions of Mom’s recipe. The original, which is little more than a few notes, and the one that’s part of a recipe book she gave to me after I moved to Chicago. Both are pictured below and, for obvious reasons, I follow the more complete version of the two. This is the same recipe that Zia follows when we have Ravioli Day. Similar to Sausage Day, once or twice a year we’ll devote a day to making ravioli so that she’ll have plenty for her family when they visit. We work well together as a team and that night’s dinner is always a good one. Never one to wait for dinner, however, Max has been known to steal a few errant ravioli that may have wandered too close to the pasta board’s edge. On one memorable Ravioli Day, he managed to inhale 35 of the pasta pillows. That was about 10% of that afternoon’s production and, not so coincidentally, the last ravioli that Max has enjoyed, to date.

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When you look at the recipe, you’ll note that in the original version, Mom used nutmeg but cloves is used in the version she gave me. I’ve no idea why or when she modified the recipe, only that she gave me the book in the early ’80’s.  As is the case with any of our ravioli fillings, the meat is cooked before being ground in a meat grinder. I once tried using a food processor but did not like the results at all. The filling became a thick purée without any real texture, and I definitely prefer some texture. The recipe, also, calls for ground pork and veal but if Mom couldn’t find veal, she often substituted chicken or turkey. Living here, I’ve no problem finding any of the ingredients but it’s good to know that there are alternatives should you run into problems or be averse to using veal. The rest of the recipe is easy enough. The “fun” part will come when we make the ravioli and you can see how we do that HERE.

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Filling Recipe for Ravioli dei Bartolini

Yield: Enough filling to be used with 8 eggs of pasta dough. Recipe found here.

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 lbs. ground pork
  • 1 1/2 lbs. ground veal (chicken or turkey may be substituted)
  • 2 – 3 tbsp butter
  • 1 pkg (10 oz) chopped spinach (cooked and well-drained)
  • 1 pkg (8 oz) cream cheese
  • 1 cup grated romano or parmesan cheese – your choice
  • 2 or 3 eggs slightly beaten
  • dash of cloves (optional)

Directions

  1. Sauté meat in butter. Season lightly with salt.
  2. Use meat grinder to process the meats. Add all the ingredients into a mixing bowl and mix until well-combined.
  3. Cover the filling and refrigerate for a few hours or overnight.
  4. Once the filling has rested, you can begin making your ravioli.

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Notes

Pictured above  is ravioli filling pre-formed into “balls.” Sometimes, while the pasta dough rests, Zia & I will use the time to create some, giving us a jump on the day’s production.

Mom and Zia used this filling exclusively for ravioli. I’ve used it in a few other dishes – i.e., stuffed shells, cannelloni, and, on occasion, a rotello. We’ll get to these recipes, too.

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