The transmission of recipes is a fascinating subject. How does a recipe move through generations, or across families, or from person to person? Remember that game we all played as kids: I remember calling it "humor rumor." In the game, you'd have a big group of people. Someone would whisper a secret to another, and then that person to another, and so on, and so on. At the end of the trail, you'd ask the last person what the secret was, and the person who started it. The differences were amazing.
So, too, with recipes, although with recipes, the changes are sometimes deliberate, as they are with this one. And this recipe is also infused with the Buddhist doctrine of impermanence. As you'll see.
The recipe started with a wonderful NY chef, Vincent Scotto. He cooks at Gonzo restaurant. Guy and I were there in the fall, some years ago, and ate a pasta dish of orecchiete, baked butternut squash, and kale, with olive oil and black pepper. We saw Vincent on the way out of the restaurant and told him how much the dish had pleased us. He told us that it was one of those dishes that come off the top of your head. He was a guest at friends' house, and they asked him, one day "why don't you go out to the garden and see what's there and make us dinner?"
GEE, some hosts. I wouldn't be back. Well, he went out in the garden, it was mid fall, and he found the kale and the butternut squash. He found a box of pasta in the cupboard, and there was dinner.
I made that dish at a New Years' party. A few weeks later, our dear friends Robert and August (whom you'll hear more of), asked for the recipe. I laughed, because there really wasn't one. Robert and August are both much more European than American, and understood immediately. They took down the recipe, and later made it for me, only they changed it. Kale was out, but broccoli rabb was in. And they added parmesan.
When August turned 50, I made the dish for his birthday. Except I changed things. I left the cheese out again, and used chard. But the squash stayed. And that was the last time I made this dish: well over a year ago.
Today, I was moved to make the dish again, but I was also moved to make something for my friend Peter.
Peter is one of the amazing "30 somethings" that I talked about in my story about Matthew, and as it happens, Peter and Matthew went to school together as high schoolers, and have remained friends. I envy them that. Maybe it was something in the water, but Peter is in that group of thirty somethings of whom I will say : you want to criticize? Get ready to answer to me. "
Peter doesnt' cook. He says he can't, but that's not true. Look at Peter's hands, and you see a cook's hands. They are shaped for cutting, shaping, and he's analytical in the kitchen. I know, because I cooked with him. He's a natural. Not for pastry: his hands are too warm for that. But I know some of what Peter has accomplished in his life, and cooking is easy. I saw Peter and his partner Dave today, so he was on my mind. And as I was thinking about pasta with butternut squash I began thinking "I want to make a pasta dish for Peter." Not just one that he could eat: one that he could cook and feel proud of.
So as I started thinking about the dish, and what was in the kitchen, I also had Peter in mind. I ALWAYS want to give Peter a hug. And when I'm around Peter, I feel like I'm being hugged, warmly and lovingly, even when there isn't a single bit of physical contact. I'm lucky, and I hope that all of you who read this will be that lucky at some point in your life.
So, " a dish that feels like a big hug" was on my mind. For me, nothing feels like a hug like the smell of pasta baking with cheese. Especially if there's tomato in it too. So with that in mind, and the fact that I was sure that Peter would like butternut squash, the following recipe came up.
And I'm giving it to you, Peter. I'll never make this recipe again. I'm giving it to you. I will certainly work with the ingredients again, but now, it's yours. Keep it, or pass it on. With love from me to you.
A note on butternut squash, before you start. All of us LOVE those wonderful butternut squashes, with their long neck and broad bottoms. My advice is to look , but don't buy. Most of that broad bottom is seeds, and junk. No, you want a squash that is as even in shape from top to bottom. All the meat is in the neck. Get a small one.
You'll need one of those butternut squashes, a pound of very good quality ricotta (NOT the garbage that ends with "-O" that you find in the supermarket), a half pound of ricotta (again, spend the money for good stuff), a cup of tomato sauce, some olive oil, some salt and pepper, and a pound of pasta. You'll also want a cup of "something green." In my case, it was peas I froze early in the summer. Use whatever seems right to you. The peas were a last minute addition, for color, because Peter is a very aesthetic person, and the dish needed the color.
The hardest part of this prep is peeling and chopping the squash. Use a potato peeler type device, and peel the squash. I find it easiest to cut the neck part off, then cut it down the middle, and cube it as small or as big as you like. Pull out the gunky seeds, and do the same with the base. Heat up some olive oil, toss in the cubes, and saute with some salt until they begin to brown. Some of the squash will stick. Toss in some water to get this off, and then put it in a bowl. Add the ricotta, break up the mozzarella into small pieces, add the tomato sauce, and add the "something green." Then grate in some strong cheese, like pecorino romano. Put this to the side, bring a big pot of water to a boil, with a tablespoon of salt, and add a whole pound of pasta. Don't cook this until it's done. While it IS cooking, preheat your oven to 425, and butter two 9x9 (or, one 9x13) baking dish. After five minutes, scoop out a cup of pasta water, drain the pasta, and t hen add the water and the pasta to the other ingredients. Divide the mix equally between the two pans, or spread it evenly in the one, large one. Put this in the oven and bake for thirty minutes.
When it's done, you can sprinkle some more cheese on it, but I don't think you'll want to.
The contrast of colors of the pasta, the golden orange of the squash, the green, the white of the cheeses and the pale pink from the tomato sauce makes a beautiful dish. You can cool this down and warm it up again or eat it right out of the oven. A big forkful of it will make you feel like someone is surrounding you in a big, warm bear hug and you'll sink right into it, the way I sink into Peter's hugs, and the way I hope he sinks into this one. And you've made enough to share, which is a REAL good way of getting more hugs.
So, Peter, hugs and kisses from me. Promise me you'll make it, let me know how you like it, and take it from here, bud. It's yours.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment