Heyo!
Short edition of the newsletter, as I had a pretty busy service selling pasta yesterday. You know what the move always is? A shower, glass of wine, and a joint after a long day of work. That feeling remains undefeated. Body aching, slightly intoxicated, knowing a job was well done—those are the moments that I live for.
One of the pasta dishes I served was spinach tagliatelle with American Alfredo sauce. I say American Alfredo sauce because there is a difference, and also because I actually prefer it to Italian Alfredo, which also goes by al burro (literally meaning with butter).
I’ve got a lot of things to say about fettuccine Alfredo. It’s a dish that unrightfully has some stink on it. It’s bastardized, you’ll hear people say. It’s not Italian, others will pout. Really, are we still pretending to care about authenticity? Food, if you haven’t been paying attention, is becoming less precious by the minute. Moreover, chefs are the sum of their travels and lived experiences. We’ve got Indian-Italian food and Mexican-Italian food, but are you telling me we can’t embrace American-Italian food? Do you know how many cooks fettuccine Alfredo has inspired? It’s the dish that ignited their love of pasta in the first place! Fettuccine Alfredo is the gateway pasta to cacio e pepe, carbonara, and alla gricia. Don’t get it twisted—before you touted your knowledge of the Roman classics, you knew about Olive Garden and their suspiciously smooth Alfredo sauce.
I love americanized, blitzed with heavy cream, heavy on the garlic fettuccine Alfredo. The type of Alfredo that feels like mainlining richness. The oafish, unnecessary, decadent pasta that you know you shouldn’t finish, but power through because who the hell eats fettuccine Alfredo after its sat in the fridge?
Alfredo sauce is correctly labeled as unhealthy. Because it’s so health-less, Alfredo is a top tier “make the pain go away” food. It’s deeply comforting, but also sobering. Fettuccine Alfredo doesn’t just soothe your feelings, it makes you stop having them altogether. It turns the inside of your head into cement and stops your thoughts from racing, mainly because your heart beat has slowed down so much. Because it’s so unhealthy, American Alfredo is not respected. In Italy they make Alfredo with butter only, people will annoyingly tell you, as if butter is somehow good for your cholesterol.
The story of how Alfredo found its way to America? Legend has it that two Hollywood actors traveled to Italy and tried the stuff back in 1914. Alfredo di Lelio, a Roman restauranteur, proudly named the dish after himself. Then these god damn actors came back to the States and announced the sauce as Alfredo had introduced it. On Alfredo’s menus, it was called maestosissime fettuccine all'Alfredo—meaning, most majestic fettuccine, Alfredo style.
When did Alfredo sauce begin to include heavy cream in America? Was it immediately? Or did it take time? It’s hard to pin point. Back in 1966, Pennsylvania Dutch Noodle Company commercially sold their egg noodles, which included a recipe on the package for “Alfredo sauce” which included cream, Swiss cheese, Parmesan, and butter. Damn, that actually sounds really good. You know, Alfredo sauce would be exceptionally dope with Gruyere cheese. Maybe I’ll run that next week.
Why not heavy cream? Why is heavy cream considered so foul?
Butter is embraced by many pasta chefs in Italy. Is cream really that big of a stretch? American Alfredo has negative perception among knowledgable foodies with distinguished palates, but that’s only because restaurants like Olive Garden have fucked it up so much. Those restaurants make their sauces in bulk, ship them in Cryovacced bags where they’re heated in huge, uninspiring vats of hot water, then ripped open and spilled open into pans. Those mass produced Alfredo sauces are undoubtedly thickened with roux, which is totally unnecessary unless you’re trying to save money by shorting customers on flavor.
As a teen working in Italian restaurants, I made Alfredo sauce to order for each customer. That entailed slamming a fresh sauté pan on a burner, adding garlic, butter, heavy cream, then reducing. Heavy cream reduces naturally, so there’s no reason at all to add roux. Roux only takes away from cream’s rich, fatty flavor. After the creamy, buttery, garlicky mixture bubbles slowly and thickens slightly, we added a mound of Parmesan cheese. These days, I like Grana Padano and Pecorino Romano for a bitey, tangy blend. Next comes freshly cracked pepper. Then swirl and emulsify the sauce with a tablespoon or two of butter off the heat French style.
There are ways to make this classic Italian-American sauce less rich and still quite creamy, too. Use less cream and butter and add some pasta water to stretch the rich sauce even further. Also, just eat less of the stuff. Nobody’s holding a gun to your head pleading you to finish an entire bowl of pasta. I had only a half order of my spinach tagliatelle with Alfredo sauce, and it was more than enough. Alfredo should be rich, but maybe it’s a dish that shouldn’t be finished alone. Here’s a move: Fettuccine Alfredo for the table. Because it’s so rich, you only need a few bites. Pass it around to your friends and get nasty.
Fettuccine Alfredo Needs Color
Sometimes that color comes from the addition of chopped parsley when plating, but personally I love making fettuccine Alfredo with spinach imbued pasta. The dark green color just adds some needed pop to the dish. Fettuccine Alfredo often looks too bland, too white. It needs some complexion. If you’re not going to make your own spinach pasta, you can find it at the store relatively easy.
Alfredo sauce has never been one of those things I’ve built a recipe for. Roughly, though, one order equals a single clove of garlic, a dash of olive oil, a third of a cup of heavy cream, one tablespoon of butter, and as much or as little cheese as you want.
Simply take the olive oil and garlic and sauté it lightly until it’s fragrant, add the heavy cream, then a pinch of salt and freshly ground black pepper. Cook the cream on medium heat until it starts to bubble, then swirl and stir the pan for another 30 seconds or so. Grate the cheese, stir until viscous, then add a tablespoon of butter off the heat. Swirl and emulsify that butter. If it’s looking too thick, add some pasta water and put it back on the heat. If too thin, add some cheese or butter. It’s an eyeball dish through and through; the type of thing you don’t really need a recipe for at all.
When American Alfredo gets too exact, too precise, that’s when it starts to become those big, impersonal Cryovac bags you see at Olive Garden. Alfredo is meant to be an intimate freestyle, and always has been.
Alright! Another edition of The Move in the books. I’m in L.A. for six more weeks, so come by and get some pasta. In the meantime, be sure to subscribe! Pay if you want. Thursdays are for paid posts, and when you upgrade to paid you also get a whole back catalogue of posts!