I Need To Be More Like Hannah
Whenever someone asks me what my favorite thing to cook is, I usually say pasta. It's a great answer because everyone loves pasta, and then it seamlessly ties into pasta horror stories as a chef so I can keep the conversation going. Then I will probably tell the story about how I tossed so many cacio e pepes one time, that I got tendinitis and came back the next day and worked the station with my left hand constantly raised like a student who never got called on. Or when I got chosen to make pasta for Bill Clinton and it was the most validating feeling of all time. Then I ask what their favorite pasta is, and then I become Doctor pasta and give remedies for all your pasta woes. Like swirling pasta water in at the last minute, or sizzling your herbs in the beginning to make it more fragrant, rather than adding them at the end.
My friend Gabby has a great icebreaker question where she asks what you find to be the most important part of a pasta dish, the pasta shape or the sauce? If you asked me what my favorite shape is, it's spaghetti hands down (unless it's angel hair tossed with a can of tuna, parsley, olive oil, a generous shower of parmesan cheese, and *chef's kiss* vinegary tabasco sauce) But when I'm craving pasta, I'm always thinking of the kind of sauce I want (which by the way is always red sauce). That inevitably leads to spaghetti so then I can't tell what came first in my head - the spaghetti or the red sauce?
Which leads to my favorite pasta to make at home- my spaghetti amatriciana with 2 garlic cloves and 2 anchovies per person. (*RECIPE) There's always cured pork, garlic (2 per person), tomato paste, tomato sauce, and cheese at the end. I add butter because it never hurt anyone. In a shallow pond of olive oil, I slowly simmer the bits of cured pork until they've shed their fat and become tanned and skinny matchsticks. A little chili flakes, and my favorite wild fennel seeds from Ischia go next. 2 garlic cloves thinly sliced per person, followed by 2 anchovies per person. Anchovies naturally separate once they hit the hot pan, and you've just built your first sauce. Swirl all these ingredients together, and you have your base.
I have a habit of adding tomato paste in addition to tomato sauce because these days I don't believe tomatoes in mass are as good as they used to be, and unless I'm going to get sauce imported from Italy I don't believe the Department of Ag is considering how their choices are affecting my pasta sauce. I mean this is the same government institution that presides over farmland and forestry that is trying to tell me these tomatoes are good enough for pasta amatriciana?? Even the Food & Nutrition Service Sector is mostly concerned about actually getting food into people's mouths, and ending food related diseases.
back to *RECIPE. It's important to let your flavor base, and tomato sauce settle together before you add the pasta. When the pasta is cooked to my liking, I drag it into the pan of sauce. I don't use a colander, I just chaotically drag all the noodles with a tong into the saucepan, allowing the residual pasta water to be what wets the sauce. Figure eights with my tongs, and a couple slaps against the pan allow for the sauce to stick to the noodles. This is the step where good pasta is separated from the bad -where it all matters. When the trifecta of pasta texture, seasoning, and sauce adherence to the noodles comes alive.
In my most recent version, I decided to add some basil pesto last minute because I had a lingering jar in the fridge that needed to go. I've shed most of the guilt that comes with throwing anything away, but there is a nerve in the back of my head that always flinches when anything goes in the trash. I wish I could eliminate this guilt, because it's antithetical to the purist approach that says we should only invest in the best! Don't buy apples in bulk for $2, buy the best apples in peak season for $2/each because they were hand-harvested, and mother earth says anything otherwise is 'less ideal.' Shame is written all over those bulk apples these days.
Even in a professional setting it was more of a detriment than an admirational conquest over food waste. Luckily in a restaurant, you had 'family meal', a large shallow pot that was the recipient of all things wasted in a kitchen - the half grated onions, beef scraps, and everyone's shallot and chives butts. The pickles from last season. But these unassuming byproducts inevitably take over and empower the flavor opportunity they are given - chewy cartilage, stringy chives, and raw onions. Family meal always seemed to taste a lot like a chunky can of tomatoes, with a pungently tart finish. A reason I'm typically wary of 'specials' at restaurants. Last minute adds on that scream 'these go together right? right?? yea, I think so. GREAT.'
I immediately regretted adding that shitty pesto to my pasta because it took over the whole dish. I tarnished my attempt to make a refined plate of pasta with my almost expired jar of pesto and I hated myself for having that knee jerk reaction. Why couldn't I throw the pesto in the trash, rather than treat myself like a human garbage can. Why can't I have higher standards for myself! A client's daughter recently told me that she doesn't eat leftovers because why would she, when she can always eat food freshly prepared? So true! I'm 38, and I aspire to have standards like 15 year old Tiktoky Hannah. Why can't I be like Hannah? Is she wrong?
PS. For gluten free people, this is undeniably the BEST gluten free pasta I have ever encountered. I find corn based ones are the best. Watching gf pasta disintegrate in a pot is one of the saddest culinary experiences I’ve had. So far I’ve only seen it on Amazon. This is a highly recommend, worth the $20 uncertainty you may feel in this moment.