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Italian Pasta a Luxury? U.S. Tariffs Could Make It Happen.

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spaghetti with tuna The price of Italian pasta brands may soar as a result of 107% tariffs scheduled to kick in January 2026, I learned this week from the Wall Street Journal and other sources.

If those products are even available, that is. Italian marketers are threatening to halt shipments, saying the dazi USA will make it impossible to do business with this country.

American-made pasta will still be available, of course. But I do have a preference for pasta made in Italy, ranging from supermarket brands such as La Molisana and Rummo to more prestigious brands such as Martelli and Faella. In my experience, American pasta tends to cook past the al dente stage more readily than Italian bronze die-cut pasta.

That’s a blanket generalization, of course–I could be short-changing some American pasta makers–but I like to have that choice as a consumer.

As is true for many Americans, some pasta dish or other is on my meal rotation just about every week. Hard to predict the future, but I’m thinking I’ll buy and cook more Italian pasta in the near future, while it’s still affordable.

The pasta I’m making this week is a favorite: spicy-tangy tuna spaghetti. It’s a variation on the familiar Italian sauce known as aglio, olio e peperoncino (garlic, oil, hot pepper). It’s spicy but also tangy, thanks to capers and lemon juice. Perfect for a spaghettata: a pasta feast improvised from ready-to-go ingredients.

Sharing this recipe makes me want to eat it, so I’m planning to do that later this week. While we sit down to this meal, I’ll be wondering if an humble pasta dish such as this one is destined to become a luxury in the future.

And also pondering what’s next on a super-charged Italian food tariff list. Olive oil? That might break my heart.

spaghetti with tuna
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Spicy-Tangy Pasta with Tuna

When everyone’s starving at some weird hour, it’s time for a spaghettata—a pasta feast improvised from ready-to-go ingredients. This tuna-tomato sauce and the anchovy variation are not only satisfying, but require no cooking apart from the pasta.

Author: Toni Lydecker
Ingredients
  • Sea salt or kosher salt
  • 2 cups diced fresh tomatoes or halved grape tomatoes
  • 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
  • 2 tablespoons lemon juice
  • ½ cup black or green Mediterranean olives, pitted and cut in slivers
  • 1 tablespoon capers soaked in cold water, drained
  • 2 cloves garlic pressed or finely chopped
  • 1 can (about 7 ounces) good-quality tuna packed in olive oil drained
  • 1 pound spaghetti or other long pasta shape
  • 1/2 teaspoon Hot red pepper flakes or to taste
  • ½ cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
  • ½ cup toasted fresh bread crumbs optional (recipe follows)
Instructions

  1. Fill a large saucepan about two-thirds full with cold water and set over high heat to boil for the pasta. Add a small handful of salt.

  2. While the water is heating, combine tomatoes, olive oil, lemon juice, olives, capers and garlic in a medium bowl. Flake tuna into bowl. Add 1/2 teaspoon salt and hot red pepper flakes.

  3. Drop spaghetti into boiling water, pressing with a wooden spoon until fully immersed; stir well. Cook for 8 to 10 minutes, or until al dente.

  4. Drain spaghetti, reserving about a cup of the cooking water. Turn spaghetti into the bowl with the tuna-tomato sauce, and mix well, adding cooking water as needed for a saucy consistency. Taste and add more salt and hot red pepper if needed. Stir in parsley and sprinkle toasted breadcrumbs on top (if using).

Recipe Notes

Variation

Penne with Tomatoes, Anchovies, and Baby Arugula: For the tuna, substitute 8 or more anchovy fillets pinched in small pieces. In place of the parsley, fold 2 to 3 cups baby arugula into the hot pasta.

 

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Toasted Fresh Breadcrumbs
Prep Time
2 mins
Cook Time
10 mins
 

I thought I knew how to toast breadcrumbs until I watched Fiorangela Piccione transform fresh breadcrumbs into crusty golden morsels. First of all, the Siracusa cook used pan carré, an ordinary white bread, instead of the semolina bread I was expecting. The only oil was a smear in the bottom of the pan and the heat seemed much too high. But, sure enough, Fiora knew what she was doing. She didn’t want breadcrumbs that were “molle molle” (too soft) and, because they were for a pasta sauce containing oil, she wished to avoid any hint of oiliness in the crumbs. This recipe was originally printed in my cookbook, Seafood alla Siciliana; it is terrific for all kinds of seafood pasta dishes. The only adjustment I've made over the years is to substitute whole-grain bread for white bread.

Ingredients
  • 2 or 3 slices firm white, semolina, rye or other whole-grain bread
  • 1 to 2 teaspoons olive oil see Note
Instructions
  1. Tear or slice the bread into several pieces, placing them in a food processor bowl. Process until reduced to coarse crumbs (makes about 2 cups).
  2. Smear the bottom of a medium-sized skillet with olive oil. Place the breadcrumbs in the pan and turn the heat to medium high. Heat the crumbs, stirring constantly (don’t even think about walking away!). Over the course of about 5 minutes, the crumbs will begin to change color. Continue stirring until they are golden brown and crisp (some of the crumbs will be browner than others, and that’s okay). If the crumbs start to burn, reduce the heat or temporarily remove the skillet from the heat.
  3. Remove the skillet from the heat and continue stirring for about half a minute, as the crumbs cool.
Recipe Notes

Note: Any toasted breadcrumbs not used immediately can be cooled and held at room temperature for a couple of days, or frozen indefinitely.

Pasta with Cabbage, Pasta with Kale

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Pasta with Cabbage and Soppressata

Years ago, when I was collecting recipes for Serves One, a friend told me about a favorite, dead-simple pasta dish: egg noodles combined with an equal quantity of sautéed cabbage. I’ve made that ever since when in the mood for a comforting meal, sometimes just for myself. It’s always struck me as being more Eastern European than Italian.

scialatelli pastaRecently I sautéed an onion with the cabbage, adding toasted fennel seeds and diced soppressata. Most important, I used a chef-invented pasta variety from Campania with more tooth–a shape called scialatielli (“ruffle,” maybe). Suddenly the dish seemed more Italian.

This is the season when cabbage abounds and if you buy one, you’re probably going to need more than one way to use it. This satisfying pasta dish is one of the best solutions. If you’re cooking for one or two, you could also use a cole slaw mix successfully.

lacinato kaleFall is also prime time for kale and other dark, nutrient-rich greens. Every fall I make ribollita with Tuscan kale and I also love to use the large, corrugated, inky leaves in a winter pesto. Browned, caramelized onions and walnuts give this pasta sauce a glorious earthiness.

penne with kale pestoGardeners know Tuscan kale as lacinato kale and, in Tuscany itself, it is called cavolo nero (“black cabbage”). Whatever name you choose, it is truly wonderful. If regular green kale is what you find at the market, it will work well too.

Pasta with Cabbage and Soppressata
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Pasta with Sauteed Cabbage and Soppressata
Prep Time
15 mins
Cook Time
25 mins
 

This recipe combines Italian heart with the Eastern European genius for cooking with cabbage.

Course: Appetizer, Main Dish
Cuisine: Italian
Ingredients
  • 4 tablespoons butter
  • 6 cups shredded green cabbage
  • 1 large red onion halved or quartered and cut crosswise in thin slices
  • 1 teaspoon fennel seed crushed and toasted
  • 2 ounces soppressata or Genoa salami cut in short strips
  • Kosher salt or sea salt
  • Freshly ground black pepper
  • 8 ounces scialatielli pasta or other short shape
  • 1 cup grated hard cheese such as Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano
Instructions
  1. Melt butter in a large saute pan and tilt to distribute it. Add cabbage and onion. Cook over medium-high heat until ingredients reduce in volume and start to turn golden. Stir well and continue to cook until cabbage and onion start to caramelize, with some of the cabbage’s green still visible. Stir in soppressata and fennel seed. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
  2. Meanwhile, fill a large saucepan about two-thirds full of cold water and bring to a boil. Add 2 tablespoons salt. Add pasta, stir well and cook until al dente, about 10 minutes. Reserving 1 cup of the pasta water, drain pasta and add to the skillet (if not large enough, do the reverse, returning drained pasta to saucepan and adding cabbage mixture).
  3. Over low to medium heat, stir to mix cabbage mixture with pasta, adding some of the pasta water if needed. Stir in half of the cheese and top servings with the rest.
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Penne with Tuscan Kale and Walnut Pesto
Prep Time
10 mins
Cook Time
22 mins
Total Time
32 mins
 

(adapted from Piatto Unico, by Toni Lydecker)

Course: Appetizer, Main Dish
Cuisine: American, Italian
Servings: 4 to 6 servings
Ingredients
  • Kosher salt
  • 1 pound dried penne, pici noodles or fettuccine
  • Tuscan Kale and Walnut Pesto recipe follows
Instructions
  1. Fill a large saucepan about two-thirds full with cold water. Bring to a boil and add a small handful of salt. Cook the pasta until al dente (up to 22 minutes for pici; more like 10 minutes for fettuccine).
  2. Meanwhile, heat half of the pesto over low heat in a large skillet. Drain the pasta, reserving about 1 cup of the cooking liquid, and turn it into the skillet. Mix well, adding more pesto (you may not need it all) and as much cooking water as needed for a saucy consistency; cook for a minute or two to blend the flavors.
lacinato kale
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Tuscan Kale and Walnut Pesto
Prep Time
30 mins
Cook Time
20 mins
Total Time
50 mins
 
Course: Ingredients
Cuisine: American, Italian
Ingredients
  • 1 large onion
  • 4 cloves garlic roughly chopped
  • 1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
  • 1 large bunch Tuscan kale
  • ¼ cup walnuts or pecans
  • 2 teaspoons sea salt or kosher salt
  • ¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
  • 1/2 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano cheese
Instructions
  1. Halve the onion, end to end, and cut in thin slices. Roughly chop the garlic. Heat ¼ cup of the olive oil in a large sauté pan. Saute the onion over medium-high heat until it softens and turns golden brown, about 15 minutes; reduce the heat if there seems to be a danger of burning. Stir in half of the garlic during the last few minutes of cooking.
  2. Meanwhile, fill a large saucepan about two-thirds full with water and bring to a boil. Strip off the kale leaves, discarding the stems. Shred by cutting crosswise with a large knife (you should have about 8 packed cups). Add the kale to the boiling water and cook until wilted and tender, 3 to 5 minutes (depending on the size and freshness of the kale). Drain and cool.
  3. Combine the kale, onions and garlic, the remaining raw garlic, walnuts, salt, pepper and remaining ¾ cup olive oil in a food processor bowl.  Puree until the mixture is homogeneous but the texture is slightly chunky.
  4. Scrape the pesto into a bowl. With a spatula, fold in the cheese. Chill or freeze any of the pesto you don't use immediately.

 

Spaghetti with Anchovies and Toasted Breadcrumbs

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On a Zoom happy hour recently, I asked what everyone was having for dinner. Four for four, pasta.

No surprise there. Everyone loves spaghetti and other dried pastas, and naturally they’re among the staples we’re stockpiling these days.

Other ingredients I never like to be without: olive oil, bread, anchovies, garlic and hot red pepper.  Conveniently, these are the makings for a classic spaghettata–an anytime pasta feast made in minutes.

I use one or two anchovies for background umami in all kinds of dishes. But for this bring-it-on dish, I toss the hot spaghetti with six glossy fillets for the two of us. Garlic slivers, simmered gently in olive oil until they just begin to color, and hot red pepper flakes add kick, while handfuls of arugula sound a gently bitter note.

If you have a choice between a tin of anchovies that costs $2 and a jar of meaty Sicilian anchovies that costs considerably more, go for the second option. And an artisanal kind of spaghetti will likely have better texture.

You could mix in a little grated Parmigiano Reggiano and it wouldn’t be wrong. But I prefer to sprinkle each serving with toasted breadcrumbs, a southern Italian touch. Not the kind that comes in a carton, like panko, but freshly made, toasted breadcrumbs. I learned to make them from a great Sicilian cook, Fiorangela Piccione.

In a skillet with just a smear of olive oil, the fresh crumbs are cooked over medium-high heat while you stir them almost continuously. They color unevenly, but eventually all reach a delectable stage of tender crispness. Off heat, you must continue to tend them, stirring as they cool. Now you have breadcrumbs to please an empress. Enough for your spaghetti and for a pasta dish or salad of the future.

I had wonderful rye bread on hand, so I used that. Fiora would have chosen white or semolina bread, and she would have taken time to trim the crusts. But I don’t think she would disapprove of my unorthodox but delicious crumbs.

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Spaghetti with Anchovies and Toasted Breadcrumbs
Prep Time
10 mins
Cook Time
12 mins
 

This is one of my favorite spur-of-the-moment pasta dishes, made with ingredients I almost always have on hand.

Course: Main Dish
Cuisine: Italian
Ingredients
  • Sea salt
  • 8 ounces spaghetti or linguine
  • 2 garlic cloves
  • 6 large anchovy fillets
  • ¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
  • Hot red pepper flakes
  • 2 cups baby arugula or baby kale if large, cut in ribbons
  • ½ cup freshly made, toasted breadcrumbs (recipe follows)
  • Several grape tomatoes optional
Instructions
  1. Fill a large saucepan two-thirds full of cold water. Bring to a boil. Pour in a small handful of salt. Add spaghetti, pressing with a wooden spoon to submerge it. Stir several times as the water returns to a boil. Cook until al dente, about 10 minutes.
  2. Meanwhile, cut garlic cloves in thin slivers. Reserving 2 anchovy fillets, cut the remaining 4 in three pieces.
  3. Pour olive oil in a small skillet. Over low heat, gently cook garlic until it begins to color but does not brown.
  4. Drain pasta, reserving 1 cup of cooking water. Return pasta to saucepan. Over low heat, stir in anchovies and garlic with oil. Season to taste with sea salt (you may not need any) and hot red pepper. Stir in arugula and heat just until slightly wilted, adding pasta water if needed for a saucy consistency.

  5. Garnish each serving with breadcrumbs, a whole anchovy and, if using, grape tomatoes.

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Toasted Fresh Breadcrumbs
Prep Time
2 mins
Cook Time
10 mins
 

I thought I knew how to toast breadcrumbs until I watched Fiorangela Piccione transform fresh breadcrumbs into crusty golden morsels. First of all, the Siracusa cook used pan carré, an ordinary white bread, instead of the semolina bread I was expecting. The only oil was a smear in the bottom of the pan and the heat seemed much too high. But, sure enough, Fiora knew what she was doing. She didn’t want breadcrumbs that were “molle molle” (too soft) and, because they were for a pasta sauce containing oil, she wished to avoid any hint of oiliness in the crumbs. This recipe was originally printed in my cookbook, Seafood alla Siciliana; it is terrific for all kinds of seafood pasta dishes. The only adjustment I've made over the years is to substitute whole-grain bread for white bread.

Ingredients
  • 2 or 3 slices firm white, semolina, rye or other whole-grain bread
  • 1 to 2 teaspoons olive oil see Note
Instructions
  1. Tear or slice the bread into several pieces, placing them in a food processor bowl. Process until reduced to coarse crumbs (makes about 2 cups).
  2. Smear the bottom of a medium-sized skillet with olive oil. Place the breadcrumbs in the pan and turn the heat to medium high. Heat the crumbs, stirring constantly (don’t even think about walking away!). Over the course of about 5 minutes, the crumbs will begin to change color. Continue stirring until they are golden brown and crisp (some of the crumbs will be browner than others, and that’s okay). If the crumbs start to burn, reduce the heat or temporarily remove the skillet from the heat.
  3. Remove the skillet from the heat and continue stirring for about half a minute, as the crumbs cool.
Recipe Notes

Note: Any toasted breadcrumbs not used immediately can be cooled and held at room temperature for a couple of days, or frozen indefinitely.

Delicious Italian Tomato Sauce, Fast

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I realize that pretty much everyone has cooked a quick Italian tomato sauce. But would you have been proud to use it for a classic pasta al pomodoro, garnished only with grated cheese?

I’m not talking about a sauce made with fresh tomatoes at their seasonal peak, but with the canned plum tomatoes we use most of the year. Good ones can be transformed into a quickly made sauce that sets off a serving of pasta or gnocchi to perfection.

Of course, tomato sauce is a workhorse of the Italian kitchen, used as an ingredient in many preparations. But, served more or less naked, it’s worthy of a little more attention.

Here’s what I think is important in making a quick, perfectly balanced tomato sauce.

First, choose delicious canned tomatoes. Easier said than done.

They should be whole tomatoes in puree. Tomato puree, diced tomatoes and crushed tomatoes are almost certainly lower quality or they wouldn’t have been subjected to those treatments. They are tomatoes trying to get by on their color.

“Organic” is a word that augurs well and “San Marzano” on the label provides a clue. It refers to a zone around Naples known for superlative plum tomatoes. They are protected by a European DOP designation, although how well it is enforced is questionable.

Confusingly, the term “San Marzano” also refers to the variety of tomato, which might be grown elsewhere, such as in California.

I favor tomatoes grown in Italy but am open to any tomatoes grown and canned with care. Cento, Anna, La Regina and Vantia are brands I’ve used and liked.

The tomatoes should squish easily between your fingers, with no hard whitish parts near the stem end. And they should break down, when cooked, in the 7 to 8 minutes allotted in my recipe.

It starts with coarsely chopped garlic, sizzled briefly in olive oil. Once the tomatoes are added, they are seasoned with a little salt and cooked just until they soften and collapse.

At this point, you add butter or more olive oil along with ground red pepper and parsley. Not as much butter as in Marcella Hazan’s famous butter-and-onion tomato sauce, but enough to add a rich dimension.

Then the sauce is pureed to a pleasantly uniform, coarse texture. I’m a fan of the food mill but realize many cooks don’t own them. (Why is that? They cost $15 and can strain out seeds in addition to pureeing the sauce.) That said, a blender or food processor will also work fine.

Finally, take time to fine-tune the seasoning. Does the sauce hit some flavor targets? Deeply savory? Peppery or spicy, depending on your goal? Bright tasting?

Too acidic? Tone it down with a Southern Italian trick, a touch of sugar.

Hard-neck garlic, usually found in a farmer’s market, makes a flavor difference. In Tuscany a favorite cold-weather pasta dish is “all’ aglione,“ made with an enormous kind of garlic. It’s mild but distinctively flavored and you can use a lot of it. Shallots or leeks would tilt the sauce in a slightly different direction.

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Italian Tomato Sauce, Simple but Perfect
Cook Time
20 mins
Total Time
20 mins
 

This sauce is sufficient for 12 to 16 ounces of pasta. It’s made to shine when there are few additional ingredients but, of course, you could use it as an ingredient in other Italian dishes: soups and stews, ragus and lasagne, to name a few. 

Course: Ingredients
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 2 cups
Ingredients
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 cloves garlic peeled and roughly chopped
  • 1 can best-quality canned tomatoes in puree*
  • Sea salt or kosher salt to taste
  • ¼ cup chopped parsley
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter or extra-virgin olive oil
  • 2 dashes ground red pepper or several grindings black pepper
  • Up to ½ teaspoon sugar optional
Instructions
  1. Put olive oil and garlic in a wide-bottomed deep skillet or saucepan. Heat over medium heat until garlic sizzles and color changes to golden; take care not to burn it.
  2. Add tomatoes to pan, breaking them up with a wooden spoon as they begin to sizzle. Season with 1 teaspoon salt.

  3. Reduce heat and simmer tomatoes, partially covered, for 7 to 8 minutes, until they have softened and collapsed. Stir in parsley, butter and red pepper until butter melts.

  4. Turn off heat and let tomatoes cool to warm.
  5. Put tomato mixture through a food mill fitted with the coarse blade. Alternatively, pulse in a food blender until the tomato sauce is a uniformly coarse consistency.

  6. Taste sauce and add more salt or pepper as needed. If the sauce tastes too acidic, add a little sugar.

Recipe Notes

• San Marzano refers to a zone around Naples known for its superlative plum tomatoes. But the term also refers to the variety of tomato, which might be grown elsewhere, such as in California. I favor tomatoes grown in Italy but am open to any tomatoes grown and canned with care. Cento, Anna, La Regina and Vantia are brands I’ve used and liked.

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Penne al Pomodoro
Prep Time
15 mins
Total Time
15 mins
 
Course: Pasta
Cuisine: Italian
Ingredients
  • Sea salt or kosher salt
  • 12 to 16 ounces penne or other short pasta shape
  • Italian Tomato Sauce see recipe
  • 1 cup finely grated Parmigiano Reggiano or other aged Italian cheese
Instructions
  1. Fill a large saucepan about two-thirds full with cold water and bring to a boil. Add a small handful of salt. Add pasta and stir well. Cook until al dente, 7 to 10 minutes. Drain pasta, reserving a cup of the cooking water, and return to pan.
  2. Stir two-thirds of sauce into pasta. Cook for a few minutes, adding a little cooking water if needed for a saucy consistency. Stir in half of the cheese.
  3. Spoon pasta into shallow bowls. Top with remaining sauce and sprinkle with remaining cheese.

 

Making Pizzoccheri with Buckwheat Tagliatelle

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I’d been curious forever about the northern Italian dish known as pizzoccheri, but never tasted it. I just knew it combined short buckwheat tagliatelle with potatoes, cabbage, onions and lots of luscious cheese.

Looking on a map, I could see how this hearty dish came to be. Its place of origin, Valtellina (with Teglio as its capitol), is to the far north of Lombardy, not far from Switzerland. Pizzoccheri is border cuisine from a place where the traditions of what are now two countries mingle–a dish for people who work and play hard in a challenging climate.

Buckwheat has long been grown here, turning up in whole-grain breads and steaming bowls of whole-grain polenta taragna. So why not pasta? Italy takes pride of ownership and I was interested but not surprised to find a site by a group called Accademia del Pizzocchero di Teglio that shares the story of this northern dish as well as a recipe from a participating restaurant.

According to the Accademia, pizzoccheri is the sort of dish locals conduct spirited conversations about–how the flour should be milled, how to fry the garlic, the ideal age of the cheese. Everyone has an opinion that remains intact at the end of the discussion.

After consulting several recipes, including one from The Silver Spoon and another from a Slow Food collection of recipes from Italy’s osterias, I concluded that there’s room for variation in ingredients and proportions as long as the essentials are retained. For instance, the most authentic mountain cheese would be Valtellina Casera. But other, easier-to-find Alpine cheeses can be substituted–Italian Fontina Valle d’Aosta, French Comté or Swiss Gruyère.

Most recipes call for piling the steaming mixture onto a platter, but I gravitated toward layering the pasta, vegetables and cheeses to create a casserole for baking briefly. It can be held after assembly for a while and, if any is left over after cooking, reheated successfully the next day.

Don’t count on leftovers, though. Pizzoccheri is an absolutely delicious dish and I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to discover it.

Like any dish made with homemade pasta, pizzoccheri takes time but is especially worthwhile because you’d be hard put to buy buckwheat tagliatelle. It’s a great group project–my husband and I had a blast making pizzoccheri with our friends Maria, Mel and Vivian.

Next on my Valtellina cooking agenda is sciatt, a dialect word for “toad.” I’ll have to look into the story about that, but only after test firing a batch of these cheese-filled buckwheat fritters, served on a bed of chicory.

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Pizzoccheri
Prep Time
40 mins
Cook Time
20 mins
Total Time
1 hr
 

This buckwheat pasta dish is a specialty of the Italy's Valtellina area, close to the Swiss border.

Course: Main Dish
Cuisine: Italian, northern Italian
Servings: 6 servings
Ingredients
  • ½ cup butter 8 tablespoons
  • 2 large onions thinly sliced
  • Sea salt or kosher salt
  • 2 large potatoes peeled, diced small
  • 5 cups shredded cabbage preferably Savoy
  • 2 or 3 garlic cloves peeled, slivered
  • Leaves from 2 sprigs sage snipped in ribbons
  • 1 pound buckwheat tagliatelle recipe follows
  • 6 ounces Alpine cheese such as Italian Fontina Valle d'Aosta, French Comté or Swiss Gruyère shredded (about 2 cups)
  • 2 ounces Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano cheese shredded (about 1 cup)
  • Freshly ground black pepper
Instructions
  1. Use 1 tablespoon soft butter to coat a large baking dish.
  2. Melt 3 tablespoons butter in a large skillet. Saute onions until soft and golden brown. Melt 2 tablespoons butter in a small skillet. Saute garlic and sage until bronzed but not browned. Mix with sautéed onions.
  3. Bring a large saucepan two-thirds filled with water to a boil. Add a small handful of salt. Cook potatoes 5 minutes. Add cabbage and cook until vegetables are just tender. Dip vegetables out with a strainer (an Asian kitchen “spider” works best) and transfer to skillet with onions. Mix gently.
  4. When water returns to a boil, add tagliatelle, stirring gently to separate strands. When water returns to a boil, cook until tender, about 3 minutes. Using a strainer, transfer to a bowl. Add remaining 2 tablespoons butter in bits and toss gently to coat as butter melts.
  5. Preheat oven to 375°F. Assemble dish: Spread one third of tagliatelle on bottom of prepared pan. Spread one third of potato-cabbage-onion mixture on top. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Add one third of fontina and Parmigiano Reggiano cheeses. Repeat layers twice.
  6. Cook uncovered until heated through and top is lightly browned, about 20 minutes.
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Buckwheat Tagliatelle
Prep Time
45 mins
 

These noodles, cut shorter than regular tagliatelle, are used in the Valtellina to make a dish called pizzoccheri.

Course: Pasta
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 6 servings
Ingredients
  • 1¾ cups buckwheat flour about 200 grams
  • 1½ cups all-purpose flour about 200 grams (preferably Italian doppio zero), plus more flour for the counter
  • 2 large pinches kosher or sea salt
Instructions
  1. Make tagliatelle: Whisk together buckwheat and all-purpose flour with salt in a bowl. Drizzle with water, mixing with a fork, until dough begins to cohere (about 1 cup altogether). Knead until smooth and not sticky, about 10 minutes. Cover with a towel and let rest 10 minutes.

  2. Break off a piece of dough the size of an extra-large egg. Flatten into a square, dust with all-purpose flour and run through widest setting of pasta maker.* Change setting to next slot and run pasta through again. Continue to narrower settings, stopping on the second or third to last. Cut sheet horizontally in half if necessary for length of about 8 inches. Lay sheet on floured counter or tray, and continue in same way with remaining dough.

  3. Attach handle to pasta cutter. Cut each sheet to make tagliatelle. Place on floured trays, with a tea towel or waxed paper between layers, or on spokes of a pasta dryer. Dry for at least 20 minutes before cooking.
Recipe Notes

* Alternatively, roll the piece of dough until very thin and cut in narrow strips. 

Tale of a Black Truffle

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cross section of a black truffle

Fresh truffles are usually available only to chefs,  but I can get them just by walking two blocks to my local farmer’s market.

Every Saturday at Fidel Gamboa’s stand, fresh truffles–black or white or both, depending on the season–are displayed in a case like the edible jewels they are.

These truffles, from Alba in Italy’s northwestern Piemonte region, are the real thing. Fidel grew up in Venezuela, studied to be an opera singer in Italy, and now is passionately devoted to introducing the world’s most prized truffles to America. “I feel like Christopher Columbus, teaching Italians about tomatoes,” he says.

As it happens, Fidel’s wife Teresa comes from Alba and it is a truffle-hunting family friend, Paolo Cerutti, who sends the overnight shipment each week. U.S. Customs, bless their bureaucratic hearts, clears the precious but perishable fungi in good time for the Saturday market. It’s been a great year for fresh truffles (both quality and quantity), according to Fidel, and thanks in part to a front-page article in the Tampa Bay Times, there’s usually a crowd at the stand.

I’ve tasted my way through their truffle-flavored honey, preserved truffles, creamy truffle spreads and truffle pasta. But I failed to spring for a fragrant white truffle during its brief November-December season, and that felt like a mistake. Black truffles continue into March, however, so when food-loving friends arrived for a weekend, I asked Fidel to save one for me.

The variety he calls pregiato is known scientifically as Melanosporum and colloquially as the Perigord truffle. It is not as celebrated as Alba’s white truffle, but at about $100 an ounce compared to $220 for the white ones, not as breath-taking a splurge. Those prices reflect the labor and uncertainty of searching for the gnarled fungi, which are unearthed by trained dogs under certain kinds of trees–especially hazelnut and oak, in the case of black truffles.

As Fidel lifted the case cover, a wave of truffle aroma rose. I chose one that weighed 1¼ ounces, ample for the four of us. Wearing white gloves, Fidel gently rubbed it with a soft brush. Wrapped in a paper towel and nestled in a plastic container against a Coolpak, it was mine.

I’ve tasted truffles in restaurants, but my only previous experience in owning a truffle was a white one we brought home from Alba. The heady aroma diminished a little every time we opened the container to sniff and, alas, it had lost most of its oomph by the time I recovered from jet lag enough to cope with it.

This time I was determined not to miss that window of freshness. The Italian approach to truffles to keep the dish simple, allowing the earthy flavor to shine through—so that night we sat down to freshly made tagliatelle with a light sauce of butter, cream, Parmigiano Reggiano, salt and pepper. The truffle shaver acquired during the Alba trip had gone missing. Instead, I used a mandoline on the finest setting. It made satisfactory shavings, substantial enough for us to appreciate not only the aroma, but the somewhat brittle texture of the truffle as we chewed.

We had only consumed about half of our little black knob, so the next morning we tried another classic: softly scrambled eggs topped with black truffle. This time we used a small handheld grater–perfect for the firm texture of a black truffle, thought perhaps not for a white one.

What to do with the remaining fragments? I shoved them into a jar of sea salt, turning it intensely aromatic by the next day. Burying them in Arborio rice would have been another option. I liked Fidel’s suggestion of making a compound butter with grated truffle and freezing it. And one of these days, I’ll try his father-in-law’s trick of combining truffle bits with anchovies–the saltiness preserves the mixture for up to six months–to use as a savory addition to pasta sauces and such.

Truffle oil might come to mind, but despite what many Internet sources say, you can’t stick a piece of truffle in olive oil and expect to end up with delectable truffle oil. Instead, the truffle will likely ferment and turn nasty tasting. Truffle oil is typically made with an essence, which is usually artificial. A more authentic product is a pâté or paste with olive oil plus a high proportion of truffles, and a price tag to match.

All in all, our black truffle weekend was good fun and definitely an education. if you’re in the neighborhood, stop by Fidel’s stand or contact him at tartufoalba100@hotmail.com. And, if you really get hooked, consider signing up for the trip he and Teresa are leading next fall, with destinations that include the white truffle auction in Alba and opera season in Parma.

 

Pasta with Fresh Tomato Sauce

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I remember the “Aha!” moment back in the ’80s when I discovered the brilliant Italian idea of featuring summer’s superb tomatoes in an uncooked pasta sauce. For years I made this dish the way I’d learned: marinating the peeled, seeded and diced tomato cubes for several hours with olive oil and  fresh garlic slivers, basil, salt and black pepper.

The stove doesn’t go on until it’s time to boil the spaghetti or linguine. Bathed in this sweetly aromatic sauce, the noodles convey the essence of a sun-ripened tomato. It’s great as a simple supper, starter for a multi-course dinner or, cooled to room temperature, a picnic or potluck dish.

You can’t improve on perfection, right?  And yet. I started to play with this classic crudo sauce, using it as a taking-off point for a more substantial pasta dish that can BE the meal.

I quit bothering with those tiresome peeling and seeding steps.  If the tomatoes are thin-skinned beauties, I’m happy to eat them in their entirety. If they’re not, why would I make this dish? Over the years, I’ve changed up the seasonings and experimented with adding up to three more things–in the dish’s spirit of fresh and convenient, always ingredients that need no cooking.

Good-quality anchovies are my favorite add-in. They ground the sauce, adding a protein note, and get a slightly raucous party going with the raw garlic and the red pepper flakes I like to substitute for black pepper.  If you are anchovy averse, canned tuna is good, too, and a little lemon juice brightens the flavor.

Sometimes I leave out the basil and, after mixing the sauce with the hot pasta, fold in baby arugula straight from the “washed three times” box. It wilts slightly and gives me an excuse for not making a salad.

The crudo tomato sauce can be marinated for up to eight hours–always at room temperature! Refrigerating raw tomatoes damages their flavor.  If you’re strapped for time, make the sauce while the pasta water heats up. Believe me, it’ll taste just fine.

Print
Pasta with Fresh Tomato Sauce, Anchovies and Arugula
Prep Time
20 mins
Cook Time
12 mins
Total Time
32 mins
 
Servings: 2 generous servings
Ingredients
  • 2 medium tomatoes  or 1 pint cherry or grape tomatoes
  • 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil the best you have
  • 2 cloves garlic cut in thin slivers
  • Sea salt or kosher salt
  • Hot red pepper flakes
  • 8 ounces spaghetti or linguine
  • 2 handsful baby arugula
  • 10 anchovy fillets or 1 can (7 ounces) tuna drained
  • Juice of 1/2 lemon optional
Instructions
  1. Core and dice the tomatoes; quarter or halve cherry or grape tomatoes, if using. Combine tomatoes with olive oil and garlic in a bowl large enough to hold the cooked pasta.  Season to taste with salt and hot red pepper. Marinate up to 8 hours at room temperature.
  2. Fill a large saucepan about two-thirds full with cold water and bring to a boil. Add a small handful of salt and the spaghetti, pressing with a wooden spoon until fully immersed; stir well. Cook until al dente, 8 to 12 minutes.
  3. Drain the pasta and turn into the bowl with the sauce. Mix thoroughly and while the pasta is still hot, stir in the arugula, anchovies and lemon juice (if using). Serve warm or at room temperature.
Recipe Notes

Other good variations and add-ins include diced roasted yellow or red pepper, toasted pine nuts, slivered black or green olives. For the arugula, you could substitute 1/2 cup basil leaves cut in rubbons. Another idea: In southern Italian fashion, mix a pinch or two of sugar into the tomato sauce and top the pasta with toasted fresh bread crumbs. Or, for the anchovies or tuna, substitute smoked Alaska salmon in canned or frozen (thawed) form; Taku is an excellent brand that does a mail-order business. And sometimes I add 1 tablespoon capers and substitute 1/4 cup finely chopped scallions for the garlic and freshly ground black pepper for the hot pepper flakes.

 

Hog Wild over Spaghetti with Guanciale

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guanciale (top) and pancetta

There’s nothing like pork fat to give a delicious push to soups, sauces, pasta, beans, or whatever else you’re making. In Italian cooking that comes most commonly from pancetta, unsmoked pork belly (the same cut used for bacon) typically seasoned with spices such as black pepper and cloves, then rolled into a cylindrical shape and dry cured.

Pancetta is a kitchen staple for me. I buy a quarter pound every few weeks, cut in 1/4-inch slices by the deli person.  When I peel off a slice to use, I usually dice it–in Italy, even easier, you can buy containers of pancetta precut in cubes. Keeps well in the fridge and if I’m not going through it quickly enough, I freeze what’s left.

Right now, though, I’m out of pancetta and what’s in my deli drawer is a slab of guanciale, pancetta’s glamorous cousin, made from hog cheeks and jowls. The idea is to refrigerate it, well wrapped, and carve off slices as needed. So I’ve been giving some thought to what guanciale is good for.

Guanciale is best known as the key ingredient of three pastas for which Rome and surrounding areas are known. For the most basic, bucatini alla gricia, the long hollow pasta strands are tossed with rendered and crisped guanciale and  pecorino cheese. Add canned plum tomatoes and you have bucatini all’ amatriciana (named for Amatrice, a town). Substitute whole eggs and yolks for the tomatoes and you’re on your way to spaghetti alla carbonara.

A quick search of cookbooks and Web sites reveals that this trio of pasta dishes (and guanciale, the ingredient they share) has inspired an outpouring of strong opinions.  Onions cooked slowly in guanciale fat are responsible for the sauce’s flavor, says one source. Absolutely no onions or garlic, says another. No other cheese but aged pecorino is acceptable. Above all, never substitute pancetta for guanciale. And so on.

In their quest for the most authentic renditions of those dishes, these purists are ignoring a key fact: The guanciale or pancetta you’re using was almost certainly produced in the U.S.  I’m not sure why imports are prohibited, but am guessing it’s because the length of curing fails to meet USDA standards (pancetta and guanciale are cured a few months, at most, compared to a minimum of 12 months for Italian prosciutto).

My deli pancetta comes from an Ohio company, says my deli guy, and the guanciale was made by Aux Delices des Bois.  Other reputable brands include La Quercia and Salumi Artisan Cured Meats.

I don’t expect these products to match the best I’ve eaten in Italy–the lean, hand-cut pancetta served like prosciutto in a Parma restaurant or a variety of Sicilian guanciale made from wild mountain pigs. That said, their quality can be quite high.  The label for my Aux Delices guanciale tells me it was cured in sea salt for a month, then rubbed with black pepper, coriander, rosemary and bay leaf, and air dried like prosciutto. Authentic? Maybe yes, maybe no–but I’m more interested in whether it tastes good.

Plus, sermons about authenticity make me want to break the rules.

I had some fresh black-eyed peas on hand and, ignoring the fact that these would be alien to an Italian cook, I simmered them with strips of guanciale, an onion and bay leaf. The peas and their broth had a more subtly savory taste compared to the usual smoked pork hocks.

I did a riff on Cobb salad with Boston lettuce, roasted rosemary chicken chunks, avocado, tomatoes. For a crunchy finish, I sauteed bits of pancetta in olive oil until crisp and sprinkled them (along with toasted pine nuts) on top. (You’ll want to let a bit of the pork-seasoned oil find its way into your dressing.) Later, I tried sauteing bits of guanciale the same way. Also excellent.

Next I thought about making one of the three sacred pasta recipes with guanciale. There was nary a strand of bucatini in my pantry but I did have spaghetti. No pecorino, but plenty of Parmigiano Reggiano on hand. And a good supply of chives, also not on the approved ingredient list.

My pasta dish might not pass muster with the purity police, but did it taste good? Yes. And would I dare substitute pancetta for guanciale? You bet.

Print
Spaghetti with Guanciale, Parmesan and Chives
Prep Time
25 mins
Cook Time
15 mins
Total Time
40 mins
 

Course: Appetizer, Main Dish
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 2 generous servings
Ingredients
  • 2 ounces guanciale or pancetta cut in 1/4-inch cubes
  • 1  tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
  • 1/3 cup white wine
  • Freshly grated black pepper
  • 1/3 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano or aged pecorino cheese
  • 4 ounces spaghetti or bucatini
  • 2 tablespoons kosher salt
  • 1 to 2 tablespoons chives snipped in small pieces
Instructions
  1. In a skillet large enough to hold the cooked pasta, cook the guanciale cubes in olive oil over medium-low heat until most of the fat has melted into the oil and the cubes crisp, losing their gelatinous look. Stir in the wine, cooking until most has evaporated. Season with black pepper and stir in half of the cheese. Keep warm.
  2. Meanwhile, bring a medium saucepan filled two-thirds full of cold water to a boil. Add the salt and the spaghetti, stirring well to separate the strands. When the water returns to a boil, adjust the heat to keep it at a brisk simmer. Cook until the spaghetti is al dente (start tasting after 8 minutes).
  3. Using a large strainer or tongs, transfer the pasta to the skillet, turning it with tongs to combine with the sauce. Cook over low heat a few minutes longer, adding the chives and remaining cheese just before serving.

 

Pici with Tuscan Kale Pesto

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Florida happens to grow leafy greens really well and I’m partial to Tuscan kale, also known as lacinato or cavolo nero (“black cabbage”). So, when I spotted a large luxuriant bouquet topped by greenish-black fronds at my farmers market, I snatched it up.

No plan in mind, until I came across a bag of pici, a hard-to-find variety of noodles from Tuscany. (Note to Tampa Bay friends: They’re at Kalamazoo Olive Company, an olive oil-and-vinegar emporium.) Clearly, the fates were signalling me to make pici with Tuscan kale pesto, a hearty pasta dish I’ve grown to love.

I first tasted this combination, swimming in olive oil and garlic, in a Tuscan trattoria. Experimenting over time, I found a more pleasing balance of flavors, with well-browned onions providing a savory base for the greens and walnuts or pecans echoing their earthiness.

With this formula in hand, the iffy availability of the key ingredients isn’t a problem. Fettuccine work just fine in lieu of pici, and any variety of kale will do.

Print
Penne with Tuscan Kale and Walnut Pesto
Prep Time
10 mins
Cook Time
22 mins
Total Time
32 mins
 

(adapted from Piatto Unico, by Toni Lydecker)

Course: Appetizer, Main Dish
Cuisine: American, Italian
Servings: 4 to 6 servings
Ingredients
  • Kosher salt
  • 1 pound dried penne, pici noodles or fettuccine
  • Tuscan Kale and Walnut Pesto recipe follows
Instructions
  1. Fill a large saucepan about two-thirds full with cold water. Bring to a boil and add a small handful of salt. Cook the pasta until al dente (up to 22 minutes for pici; more like 10 minutes for fettuccine).
  2. Meanwhile, heat half of the pesto over low heat in a large skillet. Drain the pasta, reserving about 1 cup of the cooking liquid, and turn it into the skillet. Mix well, adding more pesto (you may not need it all) and as much cooking water as needed for a saucy consistency; cook for a minute or two to blend the flavors.

 

lacinato kale
Print
Tuscan Kale and Walnut Pesto
Prep Time
30 mins
Cook Time
20 mins
Total Time
50 mins
 
Course: Ingredients
Cuisine: American, Italian
Ingredients
  • 1 large onion
  • 4 cloves garlic roughly chopped
  • 1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
  • 1 large bunch Tuscan kale
  • ¼ cup walnuts or pecans
  • 2 teaspoons sea salt or kosher salt
  • ¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
  • 1/2 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano cheese
Instructions
  1. Halve the onion, end to end, and cut in thin slices. Roughly chop the garlic. Heat ¼ cup of the olive oil in a large sauté pan. Saute the onion over medium-high heat until it softens and turns golden brown, about 15 minutes; reduce the heat if there seems to be a danger of burning. Stir in half of the garlic during the last few minutes of cooking.
  2. Meanwhile, fill a large saucepan about two-thirds full with water and bring to a boil. Strip off the kale leaves, discarding the stems. Shred by cutting crosswise with a large knife (you should have about 8 packed cups). Add the kale to the boiling water and cook until wilted and tender, 3 to 5 minutes (depending on the size and freshness of the kale). Drain and cool.
  3. Combine the kale, onions and garlic, the remaining raw garlic, walnuts, salt, pepper and remaining ¾ cup olive oil in a food processor bowl.  Puree until the mixture is homogeneous but the texture is slightly chunky.
  4. Scrape the pesto into a bowl. With a spatula, fold in the cheese. Chill or freeze any of the pesto you don't use immediately.

 

Spaghetti alla Puttanesca

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spaghettata platterFor years a small oval platter celebrating “La Spaghettata” has languished in one of our kitchen cupboards. Acquired at a church attic sale for a couple of dollars, it has an unknown provenance. Pulling it out occasionally to serve crostini, I’ve always wondered how good the platter’s recipe for spaghetti alla puttanesca might be.

You’ve probably heard the story of spaghetti alla puttanesca (“whore-style pasta”). It’s based on ingredients easy to keep on hand–pasta, cured anchovies, olives, capers, garlic, canned tomatoes–that prostitutes could supposedly assemble to make a quick and tasty dish between customers. I’ve always thought the forthrightly strong flavors allude to the coarse nature of the cook’s clients, and perhaps that’s the true meaning of an story that is suspiciously hard to authenticate.

In any case, spaghetti alla puttanesca dates back only to the middle of the 20th century, more or less, at a time when, as the Accademia Italiana della Cucina points out rather disapprovingly, a taste for gusti violenti (“violent flavors”) came into vogue. It is linked to Sicilian and other Southern Italian cuisines, which have always had the good sense to include anchovy pasta sauces, though typically seasoned in a more discreet way.

I’m a big fan of the spaghettata–a impromptu pasta pig-out using available ingredients, served at whatever time of day or night anyone gets hungry–and have relied on all of these ingredients in different combinations. But I had never set out to make a proper spaghetti alla puttanesca. This was the moment.

The Accademia is as good a source as any for the “official” recipe and, as it turns out, the version on my platter is quite similar. Both call for butter as well as olive oil, something missing from my previous puttanesca-like improvisations. The butter turned out to be a brilliant touch, taming the harshness of the anchovy and garlic while adding a luscious richness. It is also important to choose good-quality anchovies and salt-cured capers such as those from Agostino Recca. Hot red pepper doesn’t appear in either of my source recipes but is perfectly at home in this dish.

My little platter accommodates one abundant serving of spaghetti alla puttanesca, but it’s far more fun to cook up a spaghettata for four.

Print
Spaghetti alla Puttanesca
Prep Time
20 mins
Cook Time
30 mins
Total Time
50 mins
 
Course: Appetizer, Main Dish
Cuisine: Italian, Southern Italian
Servings: 4 generous servings
Ingredients
  • 1 pound spaghetti
  • 2 cloves garlic
  • 6 anchovy fillets
  • 1/4 cup unsalted butter
  • 3 to 4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
  • 3 canned plum tomatoes chopped, with some of the puree (about 1 cup)
  • 2/3 cup black or green olives pitted and slivered
  • 2 teaspoons capers rinsed and roughly chopped
  • Kosher salt or sea salt
  • Hot red pepper flakes optional
  • 1/2 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley leaves
Instructions
  1. Fill a large saucepan about two-thirds full with cold water and set over high heat to boil for the spaghetti.
  2. Chop the garlic until fairly fine. Add the anchovies, chopping both until almost a paste. Melt the butter with the oil over medium heat in a skillet or saucepan large enough to hold the cooked pasta. Add the garlic-anchovy mixture, cooking just until fragrant. Stir in the plum tomatoes, olives and capers. Season to taste with salt (if needed) and hot red pepper flakes (if using).  Simmer the sauce while the pasta cooks.
  3. Add a small handful of salt and the spaghetti to the water, pressing with a wooden spoon until fully immersed; stir well. Cook until al dente, 8 to 12 minutes. Drain the spaghetti, reserving about 1 cup of the cooking water, and turn into the skillet with the sauce. Mix well, adding cooking water as needed for a saucy consistency. Sprinkle with the parsley and serve immediately.

spaghetti alla puttanesca