Italians approach food and wine from a perspective of self expression. Food, for example, is simple, elegant, nutritious, and timed – you have your antipasto, followed by pasta, a meat course, salad, and cheese or dessert and espresso. The meal in itself is an expression of the chef, the garden, the soil, the climate, and the season.
Wine is the same. In Tuscany, we took a wine tour with a wonderful woman named Francesca. She was so knowledgeable and passionate about wine, spewing wisdom so fast I couldn't write it all down. One of the first things she told us was, "When you drink Italian wine, you are tasting an expression of the place it came from." The health of the soil, the amount of rain that year, storms, diseases, bugs... It can all be tasted in the quality and flavor of the wine. And for that reason, Italians favor less oak in their wine. To overpower the essence of the fruit with heavy oak would be a shame, we were told. When you hold a sip of wine in your mouth and swish it all around, you taste every single note of fruit, spice, and chocolate. Too much oak would overshadow the delicate flavors.
At the table, we were met with several courses of the most carefully – but simply – prepared food. And never without wine. "In our life," Francesca told us, "food doesn't make sense without wine, and wine doesn't make sense without food."
They each make the other better, and neither can express itself fully without the other.
One thing that really struck me was the quality of the pasta. In America, we're used to a little bit of pasta with a ton of thick sauce. In Italy, so much care and work goes into making the pasta with the finest ingredients, that it would be a shame to overpower it with bold, heavy sauce. Every dish was mostly pasta with a bit of extra flavor – garlic, fresh vegetables, a light bolognese, perhaps some cheese.
It reminded me of a dish that, when I was first learning to cook, I would make for myself at least once every week. I would visit the Italian market in town and buy some fresh, unique pasta – whole grain farro was my favorite. Then, I'd search the refrigerator for any spare seasonal vegetables, do a quick chop, add lots of garlic, olives, and spices, toss through the pasta, and (with a garnish of cheese) dinner was served. It was so simple and delicious and easy, I wondered why more people didn't do it.
We didn't have much in the refrigerator the other night, but we had some pasta, an onion, and a few jars in the pantry. Keeping in mind the culinary traditions I learned in Italy, combined with the flavors I love, I had a meal for three prepared in 10 minutes flat. Tailored to whatever you happen to have on hand, this is one of the best weeknight meals I could possibly imagine.
Fresh Summer Pasta :: Serves 4
1 package spaghetti
sea salt
olive oil
1 large yellow onion, halved and sliced thin
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 cup roasted red peppers, julienned
1/4 cup pitted kalamata olives, halved
1/4 cup marinated artichokes, chopped
1 16-ounce can diced tomatoes, drained
1 Tbsp. dried oregano
a few shakes of red pepper flakes
black pepper
1 cup fresh basil, julienned
handful of fresh parsley, roughly chopped
feta cheese and pine nuts, for garnish
1. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add pasta and cook until al dente. Drain in a colander and set aside.
2. Meanwhile, in a large nonstick skillet, warm a few tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat. Add onion and garlic, sprinkle with salt, and cook until starting to brown, about 5 minutes. Add peppers, olives, artichokes, tomatoes, oregano, red pepper flakes, and black pepper, and cook until warmed through, about 3 minutes.
3. Add pasta and fresh herbs to the skillet. Toss through to evenly distribute, warm the pasta, and coat with sauce. Add a bit more olive oil if needed. Divide among plates, garnish with pine nuts and crumbled feta cheese, and serve.