My Guest Blogger: DoBianchi's Take on Fresh Pasta

To complete my pasta series with style (you can see part 1 here and part 2 here) I enlisted the help of my own resident smarty pants, Jeremy Parzen. In addition to having spent a number of years in Northern Italy, he has a doctorate in Italian Literature. His authoritative voice on all things pasta and Petrachan will impress you for sure...worked for me!

Take it away, DoBianchi...

I cannot conceal that when Tracie B asked me to guest blog at My Life Italian, I was thrilled. I mean, after all, who wouldn't be honored to contribute to the blog of the woman who wrote a line I wish I wrote, about happy vines she saw in Ischia: If I were a vine, I would grow here. Her innate gifts as a writer, her humor, honesty, and honed palate, and — above all — her insights and perspective into the "garden of Europe" — the bel paease — the fair country are what made me fall for her in the first place. The title of her blog alone still makes me melt. Hey, Tracie B, you had me at hello… Or should I say, ciao?

One of the fun things about our relationship and our shared Italophilia is how she lived in Southern Italy, while I lived in the North. When we talk together in Italian, it's a veritable Tower of Babel: she, the belle from Orange, Texas speaks with a rich, musical Neapolitan accent, and I, from San Diego, speak with a nasaly, sharp Veneto accent!

When she posted the other day about the preference and tradition of "dried pasta," pastasciutta, in Southern Italy, she suggested that I write something about the fresh pasta that prevails in Emilia. So, I wrote to my friend Dindo in Bologna, and asked him to take some photographs of his mother making the fresh pasta that she makes nearly every day.

It's not that people in the North don't eat dried pasta. As a matter of fact, the Emilians are very proud of their Barilla, which is based in their region. But fresh lasagne and tagliatelle reign supreme there, as do a wide variety of stuffed fresh pastas — ravioli, tortelli, tortellini, cappelletti, etc.

Historically, dried pasta has its origins in Southern Italy. In Maestro Martino's 15th-century cookbook The Art of Cooking (which I translated for University of California Press, 2005), he includes a recipe for a dried pasta that resemble today's fusilli. He calls it "Sicilian macaroni" and instructs the reader to dry it in the sun, adding that it can last for up to three years. It's very likely that the warmer temperatures of the South and the ventilation provided by the sea are among the factors that would make Gragnano near Naples the unrivalled center for the production of dried pasta by the mid-18th century.

In landlocked Emilia, humidity and colder temperatures are factors in a unique macroclimate that gives us a variety of culinary wonders, like Parmigiano Reggiano. Did you know, for example, that you can replicate the methods for making Parmigiano Reggiano elsewhere in the world, but it only gets that unique texture and consistency when made in the foggy, damp provinces of Parma and Reggio Emilia (where the smell of pig poop is ubiquitous)?

There are other reasons why the Emilians still favor fresh pasta but the geography and climate alone are a big part of why fresh pasta prevails in the North.

Here is Signora Corradino's method for making garganelli, with ridges of course!


After you've rolled the pasta out, you cut it into squares.


Then you roll those around a wooden rod (this is similar to Maestro Martino's technique for Sicilian macaroni).


Then you make the ridges — so important in order for the sauce to penetrate the pasta — using a specially made pasta loom.

Pastasciutta Part 2: La Cottura

Click here for Part 1.

La Cottura in Italian refers to "how you cook the pasta." Jeremy (my very own highly-paid Italian language expert) explained to me that there is no direct translation, when I asked him if there were another way to define this word without using an entire English phrase.

But there is no direct or "slavish" translation for this second important element in making a great plate of pasta. Much more simple, at the same time much easier to err, than it would seem.

The simplicity (and difficulty) in all of this is twofold.

1. Salting the water
2. Duration of boiling

For the first, many a cookbook would have you egregiously underseason your water. I use the word "season" because how you flavor the water translates to flavor enhancement of the pasta itself. In Italy, we can eat a fantastic primo piatto, but recreating that glory once home can leave even the best home cook scratching her head, wondering why she can't get that same intangible...umph.

One thing that I have seen over and over in my years in Italy is a generous flow of salt into the boiling pot. Taste your water; it should be just a bit less salty than the sea. This may seem like an exaggeration but I promise it will take the pasta itself from being a neutral vessel for the exaltation of your best sauce to a supporting role that takes the whole show over the top.


Second, please don't overcook your pasta. I said PLEASE DO NOT NOT NOT OVERCOOK THE PASTA! Did you hear me? Chewing on slightly undercooked pasta is preferable to the awful sensation of a rigatone that gives up too easily under the pressure of your teeth.

Besides the flavor of your sauce, you should really be enjoying a well seasoned spaghetto with the pleasant tactile sensation of pasta that is perfectly al dente. You want to feel, taste, and smell its presence underlining the fabulosity of your perfect ragu'.

To achieve this effortlessly, read the cooking time on your box of high quality dried pasta (remember lesson 1?) and drain it about 2 minutes short. There will be carry-over cooking as well as a bit more time in the pan with the condiment. (Please tell me that you stir your pasta in the pan with the sauce! Also important--must meld.)

Tell your guests to sit down and dig in when the plate hits the table because, honey, zee pasta waits-a for a-nobody!

Call Me Crazy

But living in the Garden of Eatin' that was Italy didn't exorcise the taco-loving Texana out of me. Even the clams couldn't eclipse the burning in my heart that was my love for Mexican (Texican) food.

I always make nachos/quesadillas/tacos at home. I have convinced myself that I can make them healthy without a hint less of flavor, which is important because my metabolism cooperates less every day closer I get to 34. What I do is make a filling/topping that is versatile and, being forced to confess, I would say damn good.

My DoBianchi has asked me to post a recipe, inspired by our ritual equation of American Idol+nachos=love. I will do no such thing, as I am too willy-nilly with my filling to be precise, but I will tell you what I do and maybe you can too:

*One pound, maybe a bit more, of ground turkey or chicken breast. (HINT: when you can find it, ground chicken breast is quite a bit cheaper.)

*4-5 T of Chili powder, not the authentic New Mexican kind, but that Americanized spice mix. I like Fiesta...it's fancy.

*1 can of drained and rinsed (rinse please!) black beans. I like Progresso and Goya.

*Handful of frozen corn, fresh if you find yourself in the midst of Summer.

*A bunch of fresh baby spinach

*As much cilantro as you can stand to wash and cut, the more the better!

*2-3 limes, depending how juicy they are

*1 minced garlic clove and maybe 1/2 cup of finely diced onion.

1. Put the onion in a heated (mediumish) pan coated with olive oil, saute 5 minutes and add garlic until it becomes fragrant.
2. Add the bulk of the chili powder and stir with onion, garlic, and oil.
3. Add spinach and cook, and this is important, until the water is gone. Add ground meat and brown, putting the balance of chili powder in the mix.
4. Now that the meat is cooked, season to taste with salt and pepper, adding more chili powder if you're not feeling it.
5. Now it's time for the corn, stir it in until it's heated and seasoned. FOLD in the black beans, letting the spices penetrate without breaking them into mush.
NOTE: At this point, you want the mix to be free of running liquid, but not totally dry.
6. Take the pan off of the heat and go crazy with the lime juice and cilantro. Crazy! The lime juice is the secret that totally takes this over the top.

If you're making nachos, top some chips with the filling, low-fat refrieds too should you choose, and a moderate amount of ColbyJack cheese. (I SO know we're not Mexican anymore, but it's "inspired.") Throw them in the oven, melt, and top them with shredded cabbage and more cilantro. The cabbage is delicious, crunchy, and much more nutritious than mere lettuce.

Jeremy and I LOVE Herdez ranchera salsa. Goes great on top of the nachos!

If you make a little more of the mix, you'll have it on hand in the fridge to make quesadillas, tacos, or tostadas at will.

Whew! For all of my hard work, Jeremy surprised me with a bottle of Tempier Rose' (seems to be another emerging pattern, next week Tempier Blanc?), and you can read his thoughts here. It was lovely, very much in the same way as its Rouge sibling that I wrote about two weeks ago, but it's his turn, so go read it please.

My poor guy has to eat this at least on a weekly basis, constantly reminded by the leftovers, but he's still hangin' around so I guess our resident DoBianchi is a sucker for punishment! Who knew?

Now go get your Mex on! And feel good about it.