Pasta in its many forms is one of
the world’s oldest foods. Long before 1294 when Marco Polo is supposed to have
brought it to Europe from Asia, it was being enjoyed by residents of the
Italian seaport of Amalfi. Indeed some type of flour-water food mixture dates
back to the earliest records of the people of three continents.
When Thomas Jefferson returned to
colonial America from duties of state in Italy, he brought with him equipment
for making more of the excellent pasta products he had learned to enjoy while
abroad. And of course it was with the popularization of the tomato that the
Italians were the ones to add yet another dimension to a national obsession.
With its long shelf life and wide
range of shapes and forms, the dry pasta products displayed in almost-infinite
variety on every supermarket and convenience store shelf makes the economical
and easy-to-prepare commercial type a popular staple in most American kitchens.
When combined with the equally-commercial factory-made sauces and
accompaniments in neighboring displays, it is easy to see why pasta is so often
the modern home-maker’s menu choice, especially when limited preparation time
is so often a factor. I have no argument with this scenario, and confess to
falling back on it myself, although usually with some last-minute culinary
modifications.
In my early teenage years, I went to
school and spent much time with kids who lived in the homes of Sicilian parents
where I was introduced to the cooking of families like the Fidelio Barbanti’s,
the Bruno Bralla’s, the Mary Brigantino’s and the Johnny Orso’s, and I have
never forgotten the smells and the tastes of home-rolled doughs and
long-cooking sauces which were their daily fare. I may be forgiven therefore
for having a distinct preference for the “do-it-yourself” and
“make-it-from-scratch” approach to culinary adventure in my own kitchen as much
as possible.
I have owned and used my prized,
hand-crank, made-in-Torrino Rollecta
pasta press for more than 40 years, and consider it the heart and soul of my
“Italian kitchen”. (I confess to also owning two “fancy-dancy” electric-powered
pasta machines which I long-ago “retired” to a basement museum, where they
belong.) With my Rollecta I can turn
out pasta with whatever specific personality I decide on from straight
duram/semolina, to sweet dessert type, to vegetable or fruit-based, and of
whatever thickness is required. My basic formula consists of 2 cups fine OO
flour, 1 cup semolina, 2 large eggs, ½ cup water, 1 tablespoon of a mild oil, a
dash of fine sea salt and sometimes a tiny scraping of fresh nutmeg.
If I want vegetable-based pasta, I
can substitute a puree of cooked carrot, spinach, beet or other addition for an
equal volume of water. Similarly, I can make a dessert pasta by adding
appropriate ingredients such as chocolate cocoa, sugar, honey or fruit purees
(perfect for Italian Cannoli tubes). Fresh pasta cooks in only one or two
minutes, or it can be allowed to dry for future use.
Hand-rolled pasta, almost thin enough to
see through is perfect for lasagna, and for creating home-made ravioli pillows.
If there is one powerful argument
for hand-rolled dough, it is that penultimate baked pasta dish we call Lasagna.
The whole idea here is to make as many layers of the mouth-watering filling as
possible. The supermarket lasagna noodles with their scalloped edges are far
too thick and curl up and become slick, slippery and unmanageable when cooked
whereas my home-made noodles are thin enough to see your hand through, and as
wide as four inches. The semolina flour gives them just the kind of surface
that sauces adhere to. My favorite filling gives me at least five alternating
layers of the marriage of - 1: béchamel sauce, 2: ricotta & Parmigiano/Reggiano
cheese and 3: meat & tomato Bolognese sauce.
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