Pasta making…

How’s this for a tall tale - I made pasta. No, I didn’t just turn on the stove and open the box and poured. I really made pasta, from scratch, with my hands. And it was edible. Not only edible, but so utterly delicious and spilling-over-the-brim with flavor. Not bragging because it’s true - my ‘pasta teacher’ told me so. (I was the only one in the class so she may have just been doing her good deed for the day.)

Here’s a visual rundown of the journey with accurate descriptions so you can attempt this labor intensive but so satisfying ritual at home:

This is Ren, the lovely and patient pasta teacher who seems like she enjoys teaching visitors how to make pasta more than she enjoys eating it - which is a lot! She’s the first real foodie I’ve come across here in a Rome and after making pasta, we sat down to eat it and talked ‘food’ for hours. She’s originally from South Africa but has lived in parts of Italy, but mostly Rome for 20 years now so she’s authentic. She learned the art of pasta making and the techniques in a kitchen in Tuscany so her cooking style is what she calls ‘rustic.’

Ren starts off all her classes at the market where she guides you through to the best quality and most affordable stands. (Stay tuned for actual market pictures.) She’s got a great rapport with many of the farmers/vendors that are there and eagerly introduces her newest pasta apprentice. A friendly back and forth exchange ensues with the vendor, of which I’m proud to find that I understand about 90% of.

She guides me in picking the most seasonal vegetables with which we’ll stuff our ravioli with today - our options during this time are kale, spinach, pumpkin and especially - mushrooms! All types of mushrooms since they are at their prime right now. Today we settle on kale and buffalo ricotta. To compliment the pasta meal, we also grab some zucchini flowers which the sweet lady had picked that morning especially for Ren and I (did you know that 1) zucchinis had flowers and 2) that you could eat them?? I didn’t). We also get some fresh tomatoes for a sauce we’ll make for the ravioli and some grapes for appetizer/dessert. En route back to the apartment, we also stop in at a dairy shop that specializes in all dairy products from Buffalo’s milk, where we pick up our fresh buffalo ricotta cheese.

Back in Ren’s spacious and inviting home, she has set up a table with the materials and ingredients we’ll need for the basic pasta - a big wooden board, flour, eggs, and salt. In a bowl, for every 100g of flour we mix in 1 egg. Sprinkle just enough salt for taste and with a fork we start mixing away. ‘There’s no way to mess up this stage in the process’ she assures me. If the dough’s too dry, add warm water, if it’s too wet, add more flour - do this until you get the consistency of regular bread dough, then start gently kneading it together.

We knead, roll out to a thin sheet, and lay out to dry for about 20-30 minutes.

We start cutting our ravioli squares and experiment with circles, triangles diamonds etc. Ravioli can really be any shape apparently. She’s already cooked the kale and drained it well. I add in the ricotta, some salt and some fresh nutmeg. I stuff the ravioli with this filling and lay them out to dry a little longer (on a bit of salt so the pasta doesn’t stick to the tray).

It is very important the the ravioli be properly sealed on the edges so the goods don’t come spilling out while boiling.

After I’ve slaved away at rolling out the dough by hand, Ren then tells me she has this super modern 1950’s pasta rolling machine we could have used! haha Not really. She wanted me to try both methods - by hand and by machine. It’s almost like the ‘traditional’ way of making pasta is with a machine though - they’ve been around for so long now. This is a sweet vintage piece that she found in her mother-in-laws storage room. Not big, not fancy, not intricate, and does the job. I jotted down the name and model for my future kitchen.

Ren has assembled the most amazing kitchen I’ve seen in Rome so far. It’s a small space but the colors are wonderful, it’s so brightly and naturally lit, and it’s got a functional, utilitarian feel to it - nothing is for show. She has an awesome, industrial-sized stove. This is her stove…

This is mine…

But I digress… While the ravioli boils, Ren teaches me two very very very simple sauces that we’ll toss our pasta in. So simple yet so freaking delicious, I’ll never use store-bought tomato sauce again, she says. And she was right.

Sauce 1: heat olive oil, toss in sliced garlic, some seasonings of choice, cut tomatoes (preferably, Roma) in half and lay flesh down in pan. Let simmer until you can peel the skin off. Then mash up the tomato as chunky or smooth as you’d like.

Sauce 2: warm up olive oil with some fresh sage leaves (the sage basically fries up in the oil and adds the most amazing crunchy flavor to the pasta).

Here are the zucchini flowers that we’ll accompany the pasta with. Apparently, the zucchini plant has a flower that is the ‘female’ - this you can eat. The actual zucchini vegetable part also has a flower that grows at the end, that looks exactly the same, but this one is the ‘male’ and you can not eat. Don’t ask me why. We pick of the stems, pull out the pollen, batter up in a simple mix of flour, milk, egg and pepper, and fry in sunflower oil. Uh-maze-ing. Tastes like fried flowers. (New food option at the Dallas State Fair is what I’m thinking…)

You can also stuff the flower with mozzarella or ricotta before battering and frying for a little extra punch.

Meal time is out in Ren’s zen-like garden/courtyard - attached to her kitchen. Another rarity in Rome.

If you’re ever in Rome and wish to get out of the tourist grind of crowds, buses, crowds, tours and bigger crowds, take a class with Ren. She welcomes families and even has a special knack for getting children into the art of pasta making. You’ll enjoy a lovely morning where every one of your senses will pleasantly fulfilled, culminating with one of the best meals you’re sure to have while here. Her love and knowledge of food extends well beyond pasta and has special tips on how to easily cook just about anything you’re wondering about, which she imparts throughout the lesson. In only 4 hours you can complete the entire lesson, including meal time, which allows ample time for squeezing in the sites nearby where she lives - Piazza Navona, Castel Sant’Angelo, the Vatican, St. Peter’s Square, and more.

She also keeps a blog site with all sorts of useful happenings around Rome that will haven anything to do with food and wine, and she shares some great simple recipes:

http://www.2friends4cooking.com/wordpress/

A sore site in a land of sights

I’ve settled in one of the very original neighborhoods of Rome called Pratti (on the ‘other’ side of the Tiber River, near the Vatican). One of the defining structures of this area is Rome’s Supreme Court, il Palazzo di Guistizia. Or as the Romans refer to it, “il Palazzaccio,” the ‘ugly palace.’

Come to find out, Romans hate this structure. To them it’s an ugly, gaudy attempt at fitting in with the grandiose and revered structures that sprinkle this city. In fact, the architect, Guglielmo Calderini, received so much criticism, not only for the 22 years that it took to build because of the problems that come with constructing on the banks of a river but for the flat-out resulting ‘ugliness,’ that these disappointing efforts led to his suicide shortly after completing construction in 1916.

Romans today still won’t cut the guy a break, cringing and making their frustrated gestures, when they talk about it. “It’s too much, why it has to have so much? So ugly.” “That is not Rome” they claim, stating that it’s too ‘new’ of a structure to be labeled Roman, which they are right. The building was constructed from 1888 to 1910, very new when compared to its ancient surroundings. And it also has a lot going on - the palace assembles elements of Renaissance and Neoclassicism styles with a rather Baroque excess of decoration and statues. Nothing like the clean and simple but still reverential likes of say, the Pantheon or the Colosseum.

I happen to be renting a room in an apartment owned by a retired judge that spent over 20 years living across the street and working in the Palazzaccio. Every now and then he drops in to check on the apartment so while sharing his tuna and tomato panini with me the other night and giving me all this insight, he tried to offer the poor architect (may he rest in peace) some sort of consolation about his life’s work: “who knows - maybe in 500 years, when all the great buildings are gone, Romans may start to like it. Old is beautiful no matter what, you know…(wink wink).” The last statement led me to my next conclusion…judge or no judge, old Italian men are still Italian men.

This is my apartment building that sits across the street from the court palace. My entrance is the large door in the far left corner and I live in the top floor. It’s a 18th century building, with no elevator.