When In Rome

When I was a teenager I believed I'd been born in the wrong place.

I believed in souls and bodies in the Cartesian dualism mode back then; that souls were slotted into bodies as if they were assigned dorm rooms. What can I say? I was a teenager in the 80s; I believed a lot of stupid stuff. Particularly things could be used in a romantic narrative of soul mates, miracles and true love. If a story was beautiful enough surely it must be true. 

I was born in Chester to a family living in North Wales and I grew up living in a small town in Southern Ontario. This was clearly an error on the part of the universe. I didn't like small towns. I was supposed to be going to theatres and ballets and live in a major city because everything good about the world could be found in a city. I was supposed to be French, ideally. I was meant to be eating amazing food and within reach of great art and inspiring architecture. 

When I moved to the U.K. in my late teens I made getting to Paris my main focus, and I went as often as I could: 7 times in 6 years.  Finally, I was visiting a place that spoke to my soul. I loved Paris, but I wasn't sure it loved me. I was too noisy and uncool.

And then, 9 years from arriving in the U.K, I had a long weekend in Florence. Oh. My. God.

My soul wasn't French, it was Italian. Loud, messy, demonstrative, passionate, food-obessessed - not to mention holding a full motorbike licence for my Vespa. Obviously I was Italian! 

I don't believe in souls and duality anymore. I'm resigned to being a Canadian/Yorkshire woman in her mid 50s. I've been through enough with this body to know it is me and I am it, we aren't separate. But I still think Italy is pretty much the most wonderful place I can think of, other than my own garden. Florence, Rome, Venice, I adore them all.

There was marvellous story on the BBC News website this week that reminded me why I love Italy so damned much and why it's such a good fit for me. It gets worked up over the sort of tiny details that I also get aerated about.

There was a recipe on the BBC Good Food website for Cacio e Pepe, that most Roman of pasta dishes. This recipe caused a Roman restaurant committee to write a letter of protest to the British ambassador. The recipe described Cacio e Pepe as "a speedy lunch", which was felt to diminish this deceptively simple classic, but most egregious of all it included butter and parmesan.

Cacio e Pepe is spaghetti, pepper and pecorino cheese. Here's what the Italians said:  

• "We are always told we are not as good as the BBC*... and then they go and do this. Such a grave mistake." 
• "What Good Food published with butter and parmesan is called Pasta Alfredo. It's another kind of pasta." 
• "You have to yield to Caesar that which is Caesar's." 
• "Our tradition is based on food. So if you touch the only thing that we have..."

A letter to the British Ambassador. I am not kidding. God, I bloody love the Italians.

In remembrance of trips to Rome over the years and to correct our country's offence against Roman culinary history, last night I made Zach and I Cacio e Pepe the Roman way. That is to say, correctly. (Or at least I sincerely hope so)

Cacio e Pepe for 2

Put a kettle on to boil water for the pasta and then add it to a pan with a hefty dash of salt. Only fill the pan about halfway. The trick is to not use too much liquid as you want to water to get a good amount of starch in it. 

Add spaghetti or linguine or similar to the pan, stir to prevent it sticking and cook it for 3 minutes less than the instructions on the packet. It will finish cooking as the sauce builds.

Finely grate about half a wedge of pecorino romano, so probably 60g to 80g for two people.  It does need to be finely grated; regular grating is prone to get clumpy when we hit the emulsifying part. Put it in a bowl with plenty of room for stirring.

Grind a lot of black pepper - about 1.5 - 2 teaspoons full. Toasted that in a dry frying pan over a low heat until it releases its fragrance but take care not to burn it.

While the pasta cooks, add several tablespoons of the pasta water into the pepper and swirl it around a bit, then another few tablespoons. Once the pasta hits that 3 Minutes To Go point, do not drain it. Use tongs to lift the al dente pasta into the frying pan and toss it about in the pan, coating it with the pepper and starchy water, which will emulsify into a creamy start of a sauce. 

You need to guess a little about the amount of water, but go for less rather than more. It's easy to add a couple of tablespoons to a thick sauce before serving but not to thicken a thin one.

Add several tablespoons of the remaining pasta water to the mound of finely grated pecorino and stir it until it makes a thick smooth paste. Take the pasta frying pan off the heat and let it rest a moment to lose a little heat. If you add the pecorino paste while at simmering temperature the sauce more likely to split or get claggy, so do take that half a minute or so.

Using the tongs to toss the pasta and pecorino paste together in the pan until glossy and coated in the silky sauce. Serve with a little extra ground black pepper on top.

It really is a very easy and straightforward pasta dish, but tastes so much more than the sum of its parts. And of course anything that makes me think of Rome is a good thing. 

Ciao, amici miei!

* although the BBC got the blame because of the domain name BBCGoodFood, it actually sold of the Good Food site a couple of years back so it's not actually the Beeb's fault.

Celebrating Mum's birthday in Rome in 2008