Bucatini in Ragu di Salsiccia

This is a post that starts with a book, which is only right given my real news of the week. 

The Geometry of Pasta is a book I had coveted for quite a while, and even put on my Christmas wish list one year. But nobody took the bait until the following year, when C. gave it to me, because she loves me and because she knows what kind of dinners would result. The idea behind the book, and behind a lot of Italian cooking, is that certain shapes of pasta belong with certain specific sauces for very important, math-based reasons. Orecchiette, for example, go wonderfully with crumbled sausage and chopped broccoli rabe, because the bits of meat and vegetables nestle into the ear-shaped pasta. Some sauces cling better to a pasta with ridges. Some pastas work best with rich, oily sauces. In short, the reason Italian menus so often look the same is that there is a Right Way of Doing Things. The Italians might not be as rigid in their culinary techniques as the French, but there is still quite a lot of thought behind all those traditional recipes. And this book explains the process.

I appreciate when there is a Right Way of Doing Things in the kitchen, but as often as not, knowing the Right Way just provides me with the ammunition to do things My Way and still get a good dinner out of it. Which is what happened here. I had a box of bucatini, and a pile of tomatoes, and some sausage. Bucatini, I learned, is traditionally served with an amatriciana sauce, but all the other ones on the approved list were equally rich, even if they weren’t meat-based, and often had a base of tomatoes. So I flipped around, found a recipe intended for gnocchi, and voila*, bucatini with sausage ragu. 

Begin with some sausage links. Brown them in oil, in a hot pan, and then remove to a plate. It’s ok if they haven’t cooked through, because they will later. Slice them into 3/4″ rounds and then move on to the veggies. 

Chop the garlic, and brown it just slightly in olive oil. 

Then add some red pepper flakes, a lot of chopped tomatoes, and the sausage chunks.

Simmer for a long time, like nearly an hour. Don’t wait as long as you think you should to get the pasta water boiling, because bucatini, man, even with the hole down the middle, they take a rather long time to cook through. Which should be done in nicely salted water. Save a cup of the pasta water, just in case the sauce needs thinning, then drain the pasta.

Take the sauce off the heat and add in some fresh herbs, The cookbook recommends rosemary, but I had an abundance of basil, so that’s what I used, and it was lovely.

Taste for salt (which shouldn’t be a problem, given all that sausage) and mix in the pasta. 

I highly recommend this slightly unorthodox pasta/sauce combination. I also recommend having it for leftovers the next day, with or without some added fresh chopped tomatoes. If you opt for the tomatoes, try drizzling on a little red wine vinegar and olive oil.

*What is Italian for “voila”?

Soup You Can Eat With a Fork

Here is the internal monologue that created this recipe:

“Look! There are ramps at the greenmarket! I should buy a lot of them!”

“What goes with ramps? Well, I made that potato-ramp gratin once that was really good. I’m not in the mood for a gratin, but I like potatoes. A pound or so should be enough, right?”

“Mmm, that chorizo they’re grilling at Flying Pigs smells awesome. Ooh, I wonder what Russian sausage is? Let’s find out.”

“And you know what I haven’t had in a while? Oyster mushrooms.”

(Cut to kitchen, several hours later.)

“I have some cranberry beans lying around don’t I? And look, there’s a can of tomatoes, too. This is starting to sound kind of like cassoulet. Only not, because I don’t have any duck. But I have duck fat in the freezer! Oh, I see where this is going.”

(Cut to a couple more hours later.)

Is it a soup? Is it a stew? Were the mushrooms a step too far? 

On the mushrooms, the answer was probably yes, so I’m leaving them out of the recipe below. Alternately, if you want to veggify this, use mushrooms instead of the sausage, and olive oil instead of duck fat.

Also, I didn’t get quite as carried away as I might have with the ramps, so I supplemented with half a yellow onion. It worked great, but so would a third bunch of ramps.

And for the sausage, use whatever kind you like. The Russian variety I found had a sweet spiciness to it, and that worked pretty well with the sort of smokiness of the ramps, but almost anything would be good. (I would not recommend chorizo.)

Cassoulet-Inspired Stew

serves 6-8

1 lb. sausage

2 Tbsp. duck fat

1 lb. Yukon Gold potatoes, cut into bite-sized pieces

3 small bunches ramps, bulbs & leaves separated, all cut into pieces

3 cloves garlic, chopped

1 lb. pinto beans, soaked & rinsed (unless they are relatively fresh, like from Cayuga or Rancho Gordo as opposed to the bulk food aisle)

1 14-oz. can chopped tomatoes

salt

Cut up the sausages into thick slices. Heat up a soup pot over medium heat and cook the slices for a minute or two on each side, until they are browned and mostly cooked through. Remove to a plate.

Put the duck fat in the pot, and when it’s melted, add the potatoes. Stir occasionally for 5 minutes or so, and when they start to brown, add the bulb ends of the ramps and cook another few minutes. Add the chopped garlic, and stir.

When the garlic is fragrant, add the beans, tomatoes, ramp leaves, some salt, and enough water to cover everything by a couple of inches. Bring to a simmer and let cook over very low heat until the beans and potatoes are tender (probably about 45-60 minutes, depending on your beans). Taste for salt. 

A Yankee Looks South

I am really, really not southern. I was raised in the suburbs of Philadelphia by parents who had grown up further north along the eastern seaboard. Okra was not a part of my vocabulary, let alone my diet. Nonetheless, when the optional okra was consistently all gone by the time I arrived at Lenox Hill to collect my share, I was a little miffed. The farmer’s note about the okra was that they used to grow it in large quantities, and it always ended up in the swap box, so they stopped. But now okra seemed to be experiencing a revival of sorts, because the smallish bag they sent (“take it if you like”) was disappearing immediately, thwarting some of our dinner plans. Eventually, the farmer got hip to the situation and changed the instructions to “take it if you like–no more than 3 pieces.” Which I did. 

J. is a genuine southerner (by blood, and now also by residence). Her advice, when I asked what to do with okra, was to make gumbo. So after 2 weeks of purposely choosing very large pieces, I had just enough to make a variation on Paula Deen’s gumbo, her recommended starting place. 

According to J., in order to count as gumbo, the dish must have sausage, shrimp, okra, and onions. The roux is important, too, but those ingredients are the bare minimum. So I raided my fridge & freezer, bought a few extra things at the Italian market, and did my best. Personally, I’m very happy with the results, though I’ve yet to share them with a known gumbo authority, so a real verdict is still to come.

First, I browned some sliced andouille sausage in vegetable oil. 

After removing the meat to a plate, I added some lard to the remaining oil, and some flour, and stirred over low heat until the roux was nicely browned. I was a little afraid that I was burning it, but it turned out ok.

The instructions are to let the roux cool before continuing, and while I don’t entirely understand why that’s necessary, I followed Ms. Deen’s advice. I let it sit while I chopped some vegetables, and then turned back on the heat and added the rest of the lard, an onion, a lot of minced garlic, a bell pepper, and a stash of chopped celery I had in the freezer. 

Then some Worcestershire sauce (I won’t tell you how long that bottle has been hiding in my kitchen), a big handful of chopped parsley, and some crushed red pepper, because a little spice sounded like a good idea. (C. is slowly influencing my cooking, even when she’s not in the kitchen.)

That was followed by four cups of vegetable stock (brought to a simmer in a separate pot), and the sausage. I brought the gumbo to a boil, then let it cook, covered, for about 45 minutes. I took that time to run out and get shrimp and white rice.

Then I added the chopped tomato and sliced okra. Next time I will probably slice the okra thinner, in addition to seeking out smaller pieces. This simmered for another hour, which was plenty of time to make the rice, and watch an episode of True Blood to get myself in a southern mood.

I decided that rather than cook the shrimp separately, I’d add it at this point, and cover for another minute or two–just long enough for it to cook through. Then it was just a matter of adding the chopped scallions (and theoretically some more parsley if I hadn’t used up my entire stash already).

Serve in soup bowls, with a big spoonful of white rice.

As I said, I declared this a success. It does make me wonder, though, why so much of southern cuisine involves dishes that must simmer or braise for hours and hours. I would think that a climate that allows for a very long growing season and sweltering summers would drive people to a raw foods diet, just to keep the kitchen as cool as possible. Not that I’m complaining about the existence of gumbo, mind you. 

Yankee Gumbo
adapted from Paula Deen

1/4 c vegetable oil
12 oz andouille sausage, sliced into 1/4″ rounds
1/2 c flour
5 tablespoons lard
1 large onion, chopped
8 cloves garlic, minced
1 bell pepper, seeded and chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
1/4 c Worcestershire sauce
1/4 bunch Italian parsley, chopped
1/2 tsp crushed red pepper (optional)
4 c vegetable stock, simmering
2 medium tomatoes, chopped (about 12 oz)
2 c okra, sliced 1/4″-1/2″ thick
1/2 pound small shrimp, cleaned
4 scallions, sliced

Heat the vegetable oil in a big heavy-bottomed pot (or Dutch oven) over medium heat. Add the sausage rounds and cook until they’re lightly browned. Remove to a plate and turn the heat to low.

Add 2 Tbsp of the lard, and the flour, and cook for 8-10 minutes, stirring constantly, until you have a deep brown roux.

Add the remaining lard, the onion, garlic, bell pepper, and celery. Cook 10 more minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the Worcestershire sauce, parsley, and red pepper. Cook 10 more minutes. Add the stock and the cooked sausage. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat & cover, simmering for 45 minutes.

Add the tomatoes and okra, and cook covered for 1 hour.

Add the shrimp, stir, and cook 1-2 minutes, until the shrimp are cooked through. Turn off the heat and stir in the scallions. Serve with long-grain white rice.

21st Century Italian

This was supposed to be one of those “let’s throw a bunch of things in a pot and see how it all turns out” meals. I had bought some spicy beef sausage through M.’s CSA, and I had peppers and basil and tomatoes from my own. I bought a pound of penne and figured things would come together just fine one way or another. And then, just looking for a little inspiration, I peeked in Lynne Rossetto Kasper’s book The Italian Country Table: Home Cooking from Italy’s Farmhouse Kitchens, and found/remembered her recipe for Sausage, Peppers, and Shells, which I’d made once before and enjoyed. Further proof that there is nothing new under the sun. Also proof that while I might not be the most creative of cooks, I am adept at finding good recipes written by other people.

So I figured, “Why mess with a good thing?: Or rather, I figured, “This is basically what I was going to do anyway and now I have proof that it is a good thing.” Except that I clearly needed to switch the meat/veg ratio, updating the recipe to a more contemporary way of eating.

Start with some sausage, about 1/2 pound, pierced all over so they don’t explode.

Cook them in a hot dry pan, browning on all sides.

Pour in 2 cups of red wine and 3-4 cups of water (just enough to cover the sausages).

Bring to a boil and simmer for 15-20 minutes, long enough to cook through.

Remove the sausages to a plate, skim off the cooking liquid, and cook it to reduce by about 3/4. Then pour that into a bowl and set aside. Drizzle some olive oil into the pan and add some chopped onion and pepper, and a dried hot pepper.

(It is probably self-evident that this is the night, previously mentioned, when the power was out in my kitchen, hence the unattractive use of a flash. At this point, though, the lights came back on and we all rejoiced.)

While the peppers and onions are cooking, mince up some garlic and tear up some basil leaves.

When the onion is nicely browned, toss those into the pot, along with a little dried oregano, some chopped tomatoes, and the wine/water reduction, and some salt & pepper. Let it all simmer together, long enough for the tomatoes to break up a bit and all the flavors to meld. Finally, dice up the cooked sausage and add that to the pot.

Toss the whole mess together with a pound of cooked pasta. Theoretically you can lengthen the sauce with some of the cooking water from the pasta, but I never, ever, EVER remember to save any. It was fine without it, in any case.

The instructions in the cookbook specifically say that grated parmesan is not necessary with this dish, but if you include some with yours, I won’t tell.

Sausage & Peppers with Penne

1/2 lb sausage
2 c dry red wine
3-4 c water
1 medium red onion, coarsely diced
2 Tbsp olive oil
2 large sweet peppers, cut into 1/2″ dice
1 dried hot pepper
salt and pepper
1 large clove garlic, minced
8 large fresh basil leaves, torn
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1 lb San Marzano tomatoes or equivalent (like a 14 oz can), chopped
1 lb penne (or any shape you like)

Put on a pot of water to boil. Salt it heavily and cook the pasta as instructed on the package. Scoop out a cup of the cooking liquid before you drain the pasta, to add to the sauce at the end.

Pierce the sausage casings all over. Heat a large saucepan over medium-high and cook the sausages until browned on all sides. Then pour in the wine and enough water to cover the meat. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer 15-20 minutes, until the sausage is cooked through. Remove the meat and let the liquid reduce by 3/4. Then pour into a bowl and set aside.

Pour the olive oil into the pan, then add the onion, sweet peppers, and dried pepper. Cook until the onion starts to brown, then add the reduced wine/water, the garlic, basil, dried oregano, and some salt & pepper. Cook until the tomatoes start to break apart and the other vegetables are softened. Chop up the sausage, and then add that to the pot. Cook another few minutes, taste for salt and pepper, and mix with the cooked pasta. Add as much of the cooking liquid as needed to make a sauce-y consistency. Serve with or without grated parmesan.