On Pasta and Italian Restaurants
Feat. Sausage and Leek Rigatoni
I think one of the many joys in life is going out to eat: sitting down, sifting through a menu, forming opinions, critiquing, enjoying, sharing. Relishing in the experience of being cooked for is something I don’t experience much outside the confines of a restaurant. I don’t have many opinions on where to go out. I often fancy a quick sandwich shop, a Chinese local, a French bistro, or a British classic… I’m really not picky, and I pride myself on that. But there is one suggestion that sends a shiver down my spine, apprehension coupled with a twinge of impending despondency; the faint, far-off smell of truffle caught in the breeze. Yes, it’s pasta.
Many of you who know me might find this surprising: I grew up around Italians. My father would whip up pizzas the moment my mom stepped out the door. Holidays were often spent at Aunt Nancy’s or Aunt Jenifer’s playing Left-Right-Center surrounded by trays of lasagna and cannolis. As a kid, visits to my grandmother’s meant massive buffets of penne and meatballs, enough to feed our family of some odd 30 people, followed by long “walks” with the cousins and limoncello shots for lost bets.
Looking back on my upbringing, so many memories were made gathered around Italian food, so why should I hate going out to eat it? Simple: won’t be as good. In fact, I’m sure many, many Italian Americans and Italians would feel the same: no one cooks like my grandmother cooks.
When you go out to eat Italian (this statement obviously excludes Italy and is more specific to London — New Jersey and New York also have some exceptions) you are more than likely going to pay 15 to 30 quid for a watery, overcooked, and altogether monotonous penne a la vodka with the best bite of the evening hailing from the bread basket as the prebought butter was the only properly salted contribution to the table. That might be harsh, I’m sure there are some stellar Italian restaurants in the nation's capital, if you’re willing to drop £75+ before drinks.
Good pasta should be accessible, and in my opinion, it should be easy. It’s a meal you make at home when you feel like you need a bit of a cushion, you eat it on the couch and go back for seconds… it’s not followed by a bill.
I wrote this recipe the other day when I was a bit homesick, lacking warmth, and needing pasta. Make it for yourself, have it as a late-night meal, or, better yet, share it with your family; it’s good enough for that kind of thing, and it’ll probably be better than the kid on summer holiday cheffing up bolognese after his lunch time weed break at the Italian joint around the corner (maybe). Never know ‘til you try.
Sausage and leek pasta
30ish minutes - one pan
Ingredients
Sausage (pref Italian sausage), out of its casing
1-2 leeks, chopped
1 shallot, diced
3-5 garlic cloves, minced
Chilli flakes
Pasta, I like rigatoni or any tube shape for this
Beef broth
Fresh oregano
Cream
Parmesan
Parsley
Directions
In a large skillet, break up the sausage into small bits and cook until browned. Remove onto a plate and set aside.
To the same skillet, add a knob of butter and your leeks. Saute for a few minutes until wilted, then add your shallot, garlic, and chilli flakes, cooking for another minute. To the pan, add your sausage and pasta, mix that together to coat the pasta before adding enough broth to cover (about 4 cups) and the oregano sprigs, scraping the bottom of the pan to release the flavour from the char. Season with salt and pepper and leave to simmer until the liquid is almost evaporated and the pasta is al dente.
Add cream and remove oregano sprigs, taste to see if you’d like to add more chilli and seasoning, then continue cooking until the pasta is finished.
Remove from the heat and mix in as much parmesan as you’d like, parsley and a bit of butter.
Plate, topping with parsley and parm.
