EllenFork

Pasta Magic

Where does food come from? This is an honest question. To many people in our society, the answer to this question is a complete mystery. Just go to the grocery and pick up your dinner, already made, or the ingredients that have already been prepared. No sign of dirt, livestock, or anything else remains on the pristine food you pick up at the local chain.

Until Saturday, I thought pasta rained from the sky, or grew from Pasta trees in Italy. When I picture Rome, I envision beautiful avenues lined with large trees, draped with pasta waving in the wind. What a wonderful, beautiful scene... ok fine I didn't really think that (although how awesome would that be?!), but how often do you think about actually MAKING pasta?! Clearly, some of you beautiful, food loving readers have made your own pasta, but for me this is a novel concept.

When I was home last, my mother offered me the gift of her 30 year old pasta machine. Still in it's original packaging, complete with instructions in Italian (only), this shiny little monster was set to blow my mind. Apparently, when she and my father were first married, they bought this very same pasta machine, cranking out fancy pasta in the middle of '80s era Nashville, TN. Naturally, they hung it on the shower curtain rod to dry. I don't judge.

So as soon as I got my hot little hands on this machine, the game was on. I went through my cookbooks, hunting the perfect recipe. New Basics offered a decently easy recipe. Cafe at Chez Panisse offered a hilariously complicated version. Finally, I googled it and came up with a Mario Batali recipe that included 3 ingredients: the magical number. Below you will find a recipe for greatness and surely a recipe for success, no matter your pasta making skill level.

Enjoy this picture of my tiny kitchen:

Basic Pasta Dough
Recipe by Mario Batali

3 1/2 to 4 cups all-purpose flour
4 extra-large eggs
1/2 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil

Mound 3 1/2 cups of the flour in the center of a large wooden cutting board. Make a well in the middle of the flour and add the eggs and olive oil. Using a fork, beat together the eggs and oil and begin to incorporate the flour, starting with the inner rim of the well. As you expand the well, keep pushing the flour up from the base of the mound to retain the well shape. Do not let the egg mixture breach the well walls...at one point I was holding it together with one hand and beating the eggs with the other.

The dough will come together when half of the flour is incorporated. At this point, start kneading the dough with both hands, using the palms of your hands.

Once there is a cohesive mass, remove the dough from the board and scrape up and discard any leftover bits. Lightly reflour the board and continue kneading for 6 more minutes. The dough should be elastic and a little sticky. If the dough seems dry, or is not holding together well, add water by the tablespoon until the desired consistency is reached. I definitely had to add 3 tbsp or so (I wasn't measuring, sorry).

Wrap the dough in plastic and allow to rest for 30 minutes at room temperature.This allows the gluten to relax (which I think is a bit lazy, but no big deal).

Now cut the dough into about six pieces. Roll through your pasta machine at the widest setting, doubling the pressed dough back on itself and re-rolling. Do this 3-4 times. If dough is sticking, lightly flour it. Adjust to a narrower setting, then roll through the pasta cutting attachment, if you have one. If not, lay pasta sheet flat and slice into thin strips. Noodles!!!

Cook fresh pasta in boiling, salted water for 3-5 minutes.

I enjoyed this fresh pasta with garlic, olive oil, fresh basil, artichoke hearts, zucchini and lots of pecorino romano. Mmm mm good!

Photo credits from this post go to Sean Wallace

White Soup in a Dark Winter

(the lineup clockwise from left: white onion, turnip, celery root, russet potato, leek)

The bleak and barren days of January are upon us. Trees bereft of leaves and chilling winds are here for a few more months at least. The weather in DC has been beyond freezing for quite some time (although this weekend was finally over 30 degrees for a few days), causing cracked skin, chapped lips and and my transformation into the Michelin tire man. 17 layers are not flattering, especially when one is a layer of blubber my body thought would be "in" this season. It's not.

In light of my last statement, I found myself thumbing through Cooking Light magazine, hunting for something hearty, warming and... healthy. Strange concept, I know. My soul is crying out for springtime already, but until then I will have to console myself with steamy bowls of soups. At least I truly love winter vegetables, in all of their hideous, rooty glory. I like to think of these secret vegetables lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be harvested in the dead of winter and turned into cheerful, thawing meals.

This is where Soupe Savoyard enters the scene. This winter soup originated in the French Alps. Upon learning this, I was bombarded with images of rosy cheeked French swilling wine in front of the fire, in some highly perched ski chalet. Since I'm not there though, I will just have to make due with this lovely soup. It tastes creamy, peppery and earthy all at once. I made the soup according to the recipe for the most part, but next time there are a few changes I'd like to make: addition of fennel, a bouquet garni (bay leaf, thyme and sage tied together with twine) and use of Reblochon cheese (a cheese that hails from the French Alps region).

Winter Vegetable Soup (Soupe Savoyarde) from Cooking Light Jan 2009

1  russet potato, cut into (1/2-inch)
2  tablespoons  butter
1 1/2  cups  chopped white onion
3  cups  thinly sliced leek (about 3 large)
3/4  teaspoon  salt (I used more, these veggies tend to need extra)
1/4  teaspoon  freshly ground black pepper (also used more than recommended, it really adds something)
2  turnips, peeled and cut into (1/2-inch) cubes
1  small celery root, peeled and cut into (1/2-inch) cubes
2  cups  water
2  cups  whole milk
8  (1-ounce) slices French bread
8  (1/2-ounce) slices sharp white cheddar (I used Gruyére for this, especially since the origin of this recipe is French)

1. Peel and dice the potato. Submerse cubes in cold water and let sit.

2. Melt butter in a dutch oven. (I subbed a heavy bottom pot for this) Add onions and cook until soft but not browned. Add leeks, turnips, celery root, salt and pepper. Cover the top of the pot with aluminum foil. Set heat to low, cover and let sit for 15 min, stirring occasionally. 

4. When the vegetables have started to tenderize, add the potatoes and water. Cover and simmer on low heat until all vegetables are tender. I beleive that the potatoes are added at this point so they do not totally disintegrate- the other vegetables are a little crisper and need the extra time in the pot.

5. Heat milk in a small saucepan until there are tiny little bubbles around the edges. DO NOT BOIL THE MILK. When hot, gradually stir into the vegetable/water mixture. Remove from heat and add salt/pep to taste.

 

6. Take your slices of French bread and broil them. Do not leave unattended, they'll burn in a matter of seconds! Take it from me... When they are nice and brown, put one or two on the bottom of a bowl, add a slice of cheese and top with soup.

7. I added one or two  shreds of cheese on top and a grind of pepper.

8. Eat it up! Don't burn your tongue, and remember to share.

So, while this soup is not glamorous in nature, it brings to mind images of soft white snow, flames licking pine logs and the chatter of friends keeping warm indoors. I also imagine they've all had a lot of regional white wine to drink, and are attempting to play charades. Maybe you should try that, too.  

Enjoy!