Heyo!
Jesus Christ I’m busy this week. That’s great news, because as a freelance food writer, things can often be unpredictable. I’m covering some larger stories this month for The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, and it’s been sapping my time to work on this here newsletter.
In other news, I’ll be moving back to Los Angeles after Christmas. You can expect many more L.A. centric moves next year, though, I’m not sure if I’ll stay in SoCal for the long haul quite yet (it’s fucking expensive, man).
Anyway, onward to a subject I feel very comfortable talking about: Cooking pasta at home.
How To Absolutely Crush Pasta Puttanesca
I love pasta puttanesca. In fact, I love it so much that I’d put it in my top five pasta dishes.
It’s everything I want: It’s briny, it’s salty, tomato-y, it’s got tartness and brightness and fresh parsley and loads of olive oil. Well, that is if you make it right, because a lot of fools out here simply do not apply the proper ingredient ratios to their pasta.
My Moves For Pasta Puttanesca
Use Cento brand San Marzano tomatoes.
When choosing tomatoes for puttanesca, I like Cento. The tomatoes are of great quality, yes, but these plump little guys are also softer than most canned tomatoes. Why is that preferred? You know how when you go to crush some canned plum tomatoes with your hands and they just squirt out everywhere onto your shirt? Not a problem here. Buy Cento, leave the food processor in the cupboard, and save yourself some dishes. Plus, it makes for a more rustic, chunky sauce.
In my mind, puttanesca is a beautiful expression of pickled things. In this iteration, I used pickled okra, banana peppers, capers, green olives, and black olives. The end result is a delightfully bright pasta sauce that’ll satisfy your most piquant cravings.
Use lots of olive oil. Like a lot of it. Not only do I cook the garlic, onion, anchovy, crushed red pepper, and parsley with olive oil, I also add about a 1/4 cup into the sauce itself while it simmers. Make sure to stir the sauce as you pour to emulsify the oil. Olive oil adds richness, and I’m of the mind that every pasta sauce needs more of it. You want this to feel rich and decadent, right? Right.
Cook the sauce longer than you think. Really cook the tomatoes down. About an hour to an hour and a half on a steady simmer. You want a chunky, viscous puttanesca. When you add your cooked spaghetti to the sauce pot, be sure to add a half cup of pasta water. This is how you achieve great cling.
Use a generous amount of black pepper! Puttanesca rarely needs salt (you should be using an entire can of chopped anchovies), so you might not need more than a light sprinkle once the pasta hits the sauce. Black pepper, however, is aromatic and earthy, which is the perfect balance to the loud, pickled flavors in puttanesca. Ditto for parsley. Balance out this strong dish with parsley and black pepper; it needs it.
This is going too sound severely fucked up, but I love a cold, day old pasta puttanesca. The flavors marry wonderfully in the fridge, so that powerful, awesome puttanesca flavor enhances two fold. Cold pasta is underrated, and puttanesca proves that.
For one can of San Marzano tomatoes, I used about a quarter cup of pickled banana peppers, okra, red onion, green olives, and black olives. One can of anchovies. Two cloves of garlic. A quarter cup of parsley divided between the cooking process and while stirring the pasta in the pot. I also left about one serving of cooked pasta on the side and didn’t use it. A can of tomatoes does not equal one entire pound of dry spaghetti. You won’t eat the entire pound, anyway. Leave some behind.
A quick edition of The Move this week! I’ve still got many things I want to write about, and I’ll also be in L.A. October 31st - November 10th to finish up some writing assignments and see friends. Let’s hang!
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