Pasta & Noodles

Twenty kilometers from our home sits the bustling Latian village of Acquapendente. There we find our trustworthy pork butcher, our panificio di famiglia (family bakery), and the only shop between Rome and Florence where Erich can find the music of Astor Piazzola. Hence, Acquapendente is a sort of vortex for us. It is on early Friday mornings when it beckons us most plaintively, the day the market—the mercato—comes to town. It is a good-enough market at any time of the year, but steeled in late January fogs is how we like it best. From our home in San Casciano dei Bagni, higher up by four hundred feet and, in winter, sitting nearly always in crystal air, we descend the narrow, sloping road past the sheepfolds, past the ostrich farm, away from the new, gold sun, fresh from its rise, and into the thick, purply mists of the rough little place. Wrapped in our woolens we stroll the abundant tables of green-black Savoy cabbages and violet broccoli, baskets of potatoes and turnips unwashed of their Latian earth. Here and there are lit small, consoling charcoal fires in funny little tripod burners over which the farmers thaw their ungloved hands. Just outside the fray are the humbler posts, those that beg no rent, that are had for their predawn staking. The farmers, sober in the unpacified cold, unwrap their often meager stuffs—a basket of chestnuts, one of cauliflower, and once, a man, standing beside his little pile of pumpkins, held a brace of pheasant, still dripping their blood on the frozen ground, his booty from a predawn hunt—offering them at far lower prices than those asked by their more prosperous colleagues inside the village. It was there, too, at the Friday mercato in Acquapendente that a woman from Bolsena, who was selling just-ground chestnut flour, sat on the edge of her table and wrote out this most wonderful recipe. The smokiness of the chestnut flour enlarges upon the forest scents of the mushrooms, the whole combining into a sensual sort of rusticity. If chestnut flour is not to be found at your specialty store, substitute whole wheat or buckwheat flour and mix 3 ounces of canned, unsweetened chestnut puree with the mascarpone.

Gnocchi is one of those dishes that many home cooks shy away from. Whether they’re made of potatoes or cheese, the process seems mysterious—until, of course, you finally take the plunge and make a batch yourself at home. These ricotta gnocchi are quick and easy and the perfect launch into your gnocchi-making career. Once you get the hang of rolling them off the tines of the fork, there’s nothing to it. And when you’ve become the accomplished gnocchi-maker you never thought you’d be, you’ll find all sorts of ways to serve them. Try them with a fresh tomato sauce, or simply toss them in this sage brown butter.

This colorful mélange of flavors and textures is easy enough for a weeknight meal, yet gorgeous enough to impress guests.

Crunchy and colorful, this is an appealing presentation for cold Asian noodles.

This spicy, nutty salad is an amalgam of Indonesian and Thai-influenced ingredients and seasonings.

One of my favorite things about Paris—after the museums, the streetscapes, the Seine, the style, the beauty, and so on—is the green beans. Yes, you read that right. Parisian green beans are ubiquitous, and always served perfectly ripe and tender-crisp. Here at home, perfect green beans seem to be available only for a month or so in the summer. This dish is a nice way to highlight them during that brief window; however, I’m so fond of it that I use frozen green beans so I can make this regularly. I highly recommend using organic whole baby green beans, if you can find them; otherwise, French-cut beans will do.

Chow fun is indeed fun chow when you’re in the mood for tasty Asian-style fare.

A pleasing composition using a minimum of exotic ingredients, this traditional Asian dish becomes somewhat offbeat through the use of fresh tomatoes and basil.

Characteristic of some Southeast Asian cuisines is the overlapping of Asian and Indian influences. This is true of this pleasantly offbeat noodle dish, which is seasoned with both soy sauce and curry.

Here is a pleasing variation on this popular Thai noodle dish. Though the dish is more than fine without it, do try to use fresh lemongrass if possible, as it adds a subtle flavor and scent. Many supermarkets now carry this once-exotic item. But don’t worry if you can’t find it; I’ve made the recipe with and without, and it’s good either way.

This dish has proven a big hit in my home. You can get all the ingredients in the Asian foods section of any well-stocked supermarket or natural foods store.

Don’t be daunted by the list of ingredients used here; it all comes together quickly, as the idea is to cook everything as briefly as possible. Enveloped in plenty of coconut milk, this dish of noodles and vegetables becomes quite luscious.

This Asian-style soup is ideal when you’re in a hurry. It can be on the table in about twenty minutes.

Thick, hearty noodles make this fifteen-minute soup substantial, yet it’s not too filling to serve as an introduction to another course.

I’m very partial to chicken thighs, with their silky, succulent flesh. Slathered in a BBQ sauce spiked with good Hungarian paprika and made velvety with sour cream, this is a sensuous dish on a cold winter night, especially when served with buttered noodles to sop up all the good sauce.

I love living in Oklahoma. I do miss my family in Georgia, but luckily I get to travel back and forth a lot for visits. My Georgia family has also made the trek to Oklahoma several times, so now both places feel like home. Only once have I gotten so homesick I thought I wouldn’t make it, and that was because I was really sick with the flu and Mama wasn’t there to take care of me. Sometimes nobody will do except Mama! She made this soup for me, froze it in quart containers, packed it in dry ice (who knew you could get dry ice in Monticello?), and shipped it overnight to me in a Styrofoam cooler. When I got it the next morning, I cried, ate some soup, cried, ate some more soup, and thanked God for the most awesome mom on the planet!

This red sauce is a steroid ingredient that we use to pump up wimpy dishes like gnocchi or in chicken gravy for a quick sauce chasseur. Most of our sauces are done this way, baked in a good French enameled cast-iron pot. We’re not too fussy about the type of tomatoes we use, just canned and whole; San Marzano will do. If you cannot obtain pig skin from your butcher, then a pig’s trotter, halved lengthwise, works, too. You could also add Smoked Baby Back Ribs (page 153) to the sauce before serving it with the gnocchi.

This Chicken Lo Mein recipe is extremely simple to make and has a nice peppery flavor from the red pepper flakes, white pepper, and ginger.

A leftover ham bone makes a great substitute for the ham hock in this pasta recipe. The rest of the flavor comes from braised greens, smoky potlikker, and hot pepper sauce.