Briam- Roasted Ratatouille a la Greque

Briam is the Greek Ratatouille. Ratatouille is worth standing around and adding things to the pot in their turn. But the first good eggplants and tender zucchini and affordable tomatoes coincide with the first warm spring days- there's urban gardening to see to, balcony furniture to repaint, and long afternoons in the shade on the veranda with stacks of old New Yorker magazines. This is a lunch you set the table for, open a bottle of wine for, as it fills the house with the scent of herbs and tomatoes. 

If it only took you four minutes to get it into the oven, that is nobody's business. 

We will need:

2or 3 eggplants

2 or 3 zucchini

2 or3 potatoes

a dozen or so cherry tomatoes, or 2 or 3 large tomatoes

2 onions

4 or 5 long peppers, any color

2 or 3 cloves of garlic

salt

pepper

fresh herbs- thyme, majoram, or oregano

olive oil- about a wineglass full
A lemon

This makes an enormous pan of food, but it is very good the next day, cold, at room temperature, or warmed. If you still think you need less, make less.

Wash all the vegetables. Cut the eggplant into quarter or half round slices. Salt them heavily and set them in a colander to drain. Cut the zucchini into lengths of about 2 cm (1 "), and cut these into halves only if the zucchini is very wide. Cut the onions into 6 wedges each- we will eat them as a vegetable, not an aromatic. Cut the peppers as you wish, not too small. Cut the potatoes in pieces the size of the eggplants. Leave the cherry tomatoes whole. If you are using large tomatoes, cut them into quarters- like the onions, we will eat them as a vegetable on their own. Leave the garlic cloves with their peel. 

Rinse the eggplant slices and shake them dry. Toss everything in a sheet pan with the oil, herbs, salt and pepper, and roast at 170 C/ 350 F for nearly an hour- All the vegetables should be tender, the tomatoes concentrated, the onions charred on the edges, the garlic mushy in its skin. 

Taste it. If it needs brightening- and it sometimes does in the early season when the vegetables have not hit their peak yet- scrub a lemon, zest it and juice it, and toss this with the vegetables. Even an orange if you like. This is not an element in classic briam, but it makes the dish.

Serve this with feta on the side. If you like it cooled down, try it with yogurt- not the thick kind but simple plain yogurt, as it is, or mixed with chopped fresh mint.

Smear the roasted garlic on bread and add some of the smashed tomato as you linger at the table. The flavors of the dish are so clean and simple you won't be at all tired of it when you have it again in the evening. You may find yourself making it often.

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Still Life for Lunch, Truffles for Breakfast.

How to indulge in a month of celebrations with modesty and zeal? Crudites (and champagne). There is nothing austere about eating a still life for lunch. You want at least six things to make a lavish plate, several of them, despite the name, not raw. A little love brings out fabulous things. (Also all that endless chewing makes you feel like a goat, and it is very hard to say anything at all, clever or otherwise).  A few simple steps make a platter that's all glamour, all virtue:

Radishes- This is the most fun- branch out from retro roses to every botanical excess. A sharp knife and some ice water (opens the petals of your flowers, and shaves off a little of the radishes' bite), and it's Chihuly in a bowl.

Cauliflower- Boil in 2-3 cm salted water with some vinegar and peppercorns added (stems in the water, crowns above) for about 5 minutes, until they barely yield to a sharp knife. Strain and chill quickly- put them out on the terrace.

Broccoli- The same, but salt only. Watch carefully- the steaming brings out a vibrant emerald tone. Too much, and it turns army green and tastes like school lunch. Cut off the stems and peel them- throw them in first to give them a head start.

Carrots- Never just raw. There are two things you can do. Chilling them in a mixture of one part vinegar to two parts water, plus salt and if you like some peeled garlic cloves and peppercorns (take out the garlic after 20 minutes or so unless you want them strong), transforms them from crunchy to crisp- much more delicate texture, and nice enough to enjoy on their own like a pickle. The other thing to do is treat them as above, but for a shorter time- just a minute or at the most 2- with some vinegar in the water, and maybe a garlic clove also.

Green beans- probably frozen (!) in winter- nonetheless a fresh tasting addition. Treat as carrots, but cook long enough so that they become tender and lose any raw flavor (but not until they are limp). Vivid color!

Fennel- Slice very thin wedges with the stem on, holding them together- this way each bite has some of the tender inside.

Cucumbers- Prepare at the last minute so they don't dry out or go limp. Spears are fine, but leaving them half peeled (try a zester) and sliced on the diagonal gives them a fresh look and a pleasant bite.

To these add what you like- conventional choices like celery stalks, cherry tomatoes and red pepper strips. It's a little messy but you'll have several platters worth of crudites- each one a meal that feels more like a cocktail party and leaves you svelte enough to have truffles for breakfast.

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Squash Gnocchi Glow Like Topaz- Two Ingredients, Fifteen Minutes.

To be honest it is four ingredients, if you count the butter and the sage we will use to sauce them. And five if you count the wine - they're not a tuna sandwich. This is restaurant lunch, in no time at all. You'll want the time for lingering at the table. 

We'll need:

500 g/ 2 C pureed roasted squash (simple directions here)

250 g/ 2 C flour (we may not need all of it)

salt to taste, and pinch of nutmeg

Make a sticky dough that holds nicely together by adding the flour gradually, using just as much as you need. Season it to taste, going light with the nutmeg but using enough to underscore the sweetness of the squash.

Flour a gnocchi board if you have one, otherwise flour a work space. Pinch off small pieces of dough and roll into a tapered length the width of a lady's ring finger. Roll over the gnocchi board, or the tines of a fork, to make decorative ridges to hold the sauce.

Put water on to boil, salting it like we do for pasta. Put half of the gnocchi in, wait until they all rise to the surface, then boil another two minutes. Test one to make sure they are cooked through to the center, and take them out with a slotted spoon or a small strainer. Repeat with the other half of the gnocchi. Keep the starchy cloudy salty water they cooked in- we will need it.

Five minutes before you are ready to sit down to lunch, make the sauce -

80 g/ 3 oz butter

sage leaves, fresh or dried

Pour off the top half of the cooking water, leaving the thickest, cloudiest part- this will bind with the butter to make a silky, unctuous sauce. Melt the butter in a large skillet large enough to hold all the gnocchi and let it turn a rich golden brown. Add the gnocchi, brown them a little here and there, and ladle in a little cooking water to make sure they are all nicely coated and to give them some gloss.

These need almost nothing- just a light shower of Parmesan if you like, and a glass of wine.

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Fresh Corn, Risotto Style- As Decadent as Vegetables Get.

Fresh corn on the cob has returned to the market for a fall encore. Its crisp sweetness is just as nice in October as it was in June. But with the busy season in full swing, we are less likely to be grilling for lunch. The pic-nic barbeque mood has given way to the sit-down lunch. Never skimping on glamour, we sometimes do skimp on time. This is such a dish.

We will need:

6 ears of fresh corn

50 g/ 4 T butter

200 ml/ scant 1 C heavy cream

salt and pepper 

grated fresh parmesan, for serving

Shuck the corn and slice the kernels off into a large basin (it is a little messy). With a serrated knife, like a bread knife, scrape the cob to get all the tender bits of corn and rich corn milk. This second step makes the dish. Put the corn and its pulp and milk into a pan and add a half glass of water and a little salt. Cover and simmer for about ten minutes to let the corn start to get tender. Add more water if necessary. When it seems nearly as soft as you'd like it, add the butter, and then half of the cream, plus salt and pepper to your taste, stirring all the while, until the cream turns golden with the corn. Taste again. Like a risotto, it will continue to absorb moisture on the plate and we will want plenty of sauce. Depending on how rich you want it, add water or the rest of the cream, or a little of both, aiming for a little saucier than you ultimately want it to be.

Just like for risotto, make everyone sit down before you serve.This is delicious very hot! Serve in mounds on plates or shallow bowls, top with a tangle of parmesan, and more fresh ground black pepper. It is sweet and creamy and rich and can take the drama of a lot of heat if you like, which we do.

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Two is Company, Twenty-One is a Crowd, and Not Every Grand Meal is a Dinner Party

.

...even if there is a meal, and it feels very much like a party (certainly a happening). There are festive occasions, especially in our home life, that are not about the meal. Last weekend was like that- at the *club, a show, and at home, one of our daughters directing a short film with a cast and crew of a dozen (our other daughter is in and out grabbing whatever is around to eat as she sings and has concerts). That is a lot of people who need a good meal before they get back to making music or movies or whatever.

I almost always cook something for the bands. If I know them I make Touluouse Lautrec cake, and sushi. Otherwise vegetarian snacks- hummus is on every hospitality rider and I feel so sorry for them eating hummus day after day- it just isn't that lively of a dish- that I make a really nice one. They also always want chips and salsa, so I make that too. Knowing the show was coming up and also knowing that we would have 13 film school students in from dawn to midnight, I got a kilo of chick peas, soaked and cooked them up, chilling them in their broth in the refrigerator. I also had sacks of carrots, red peppers, cucumbers, and tomatoes- imperfect ones that they have at the end of market day. To this was added little. (The film crew and cast also had a cake but it is so delicious and reliable it must shine on its own- coming next.)

This is not a time for souffle- patient dishes that are ready in a hurry but don't mind waiting until a take is finished or sound check is over are perfect. 

Here's what you need for one band and one film crew-

1 kilo chick peas

1 bag of carrots

1 bag of cucumbers

2 or 3 red peppers

2 or 3 kilos of tomatoes

1 kilo of pasta

1 bunch parsley

1 bunch dill

1 bunch cilantro

3 lemons

2 limes

a jar of tahini

The Hummus:

1/2 k cooked chick peas, drained

1 bunch parsley

1/2 bunch dill

2 lemons

1/2 jar tahini

1 garlic clove

salt

Chop the garlic fine, then add a teaspoon of salt
and smash back and forth with the plat side of your knife-
it will quickly make a smooth paste.

Pick the leaves off of one large bunch of parsley and half a bunch of dill, and put them in the bowl of the food processor with about half of the chickpeas (take them out with a slotted spoon- we want none  of the liquid in this dish but we need it in another), the zest of 2 lemons, their juice, a clove of garlic mashed carefully with salt into a smooth paste (we need more garlic/salt paste for the salsa- mash 2 at once and set the rest aside), and about half of a jar of tahini. Puree until smooth and a beautiful light green color and taste, adding salt, lemon, tahini, etc. as you like and being conservative with more garlic- raw garlic gains in intensity. Serve dusted with sumac- which is beautiful and tangy.

What makes it nicer? The herbs for one- color and bright fresh flavor missing from legumes and seeds. And the lemon zest lifts the flavor higher and leaves a floral perfume, not just tangy zing. 

Just a little vinegar in each jar s enough- fill to the top with water.

For the carrot sticks- do them first so they can sit in water with vinegar (1:8), salt, and a garlic clove- they are transformed from (stodgy)crunchy to (suave)crisp. Leave them for over 6 hours though and they are almost too flavorful to enjoy with the hummus (but very fine as a cocktail pickle- I have them often in the refrigerator).

The Salsa:

4-5 tomatoes

2 peppers

1 onion

1 clove garlic

1 bunch cilantro

1 or 2 limes

2 small cucumbers

I loved using the blowtorch for the gazpacho the other day, and all my favorite restaurant salsas have some char to them. Basically, this is the gazpacho, minus most of the oil and all the bread and water, plus cilantro, lime zest and juice, and some dried red chilies. 

Slice an onion fairly thinly, and blacken with a torch along with 2 sweet peppers of any color, 4 or 5 tomatoes, some garlic mashed with salt. Puree everything in the food processor along with a very large handful of cilantro leaves, the lime juice and zest, ground black pepper and crushed dried chilies- going slowly (start with a half) and adding more as you like. The sweet smoke of the vegetables and the brightness of the cilantro and lime are very nice together. No photo- it was whisked off to the club the moment it came out of the blender. But you can imagine what it looks like. Make yours as smooth or as chunky as you like.

The Pasta:

1/2 k /1 lb chick peas, cooked until done, with all of their cooking liquid

1/2 C olive oil

2 onions

4-5 cloves garlic

1 1/2 k/ 3 pounds tomatoes, grated

fresh herbs-sage, thyme, oregano

1- 1 1/2 k pasta, any shape you like (we used 3 different shapes)

The liquid should be much more than the chick peas,
and should still reach just over halfway up the sides so there is room for the pasta..
The dish expands enormously.

Take our your largest and deepest pot. Chop the onions and saute in the olive oil until soft, add the garlic, and stir over the heat until golden. Drain the chick peas- keeping the liquid (full of almost gelatinous body, like a homemade chicken stock). Add the chick peas, salt to taste, black pepper, and a small handful of herbs. Stir a moment to let the chick peas absorb some aroma, and add broth and the tomatoes. There should be a lot of liquid- another 2 times the depth of the chick peas. And the seasoning should be bold- we are adding a lot of starch to soak up the liquid and all the flavor. It will sit patiently at a low simmer for as long as you need it to. When you are 10 minutes away from serving, add the dry pasta to the pot and stir often. The finished dish should be a lively springy pasta (not too very soft) with the chick peas and some brothy sauce- add some water or tomato when it cooking if it seems to need more liquid, or if more people gather. Serve with more fresh ground pepper and grated cheese, a rough one, like dry myzythra (ricotta salata). This is a generous dish, satisfying many.

Plan:

There's a reason there are no photos of the kitchen while all this was being made- vegetable peels, onion skins, herb stems flying everywhere. The dishes use a lot of the same ingredients so the most efficient way is to just fly into it and do one grand clean up when the pasta is on the stove. Start with the hummus so it has time to chill and then do the salsa so you can get the food processor out of the way. Cut up the carrot sticks and some cucumber spears and chill them. Start the chick peas and tomato broth and grate a lot of cheese. It will be ready in ten minutes after the pasta is added, but as there is so much it will stay hot a very long time. Clear a large table and put out all of the mismatched bowls and forks and spoons that you own and know that they certainly will be enough, and that no one will go hungry. 

*Principal (John Spencer Blues Explosion last Saturday, the 5th)

** Dinner for Morrisey (I made it on a hot plate next to the bar): steamed broccoli, steamed carrots, potatoes mashed with salted butter. Black-eyes peas salad for Nouvelle Vague. Tricky cooks for himself. I don't think Lemmy ate anything special. We ordered in for Isaac Hayes. He was majestic. 

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Tres Gazpachos

Two of my favorite desserts have "3" in them- Pastel con tres leches, and the Three Cities of Spain Cheesecake (named for a cafe in Santa Fe, NM, where it was served), which, even as a New Yorker, I prefer to both the Lindy's and the Junior's versions. 

A favorite warm weather lunch for us is Gazpacho, a seemingly elemental cold soup of simple ingredients that prompts all kinds of experimentation. I had thought that experimentation had at last come to an end when I took my mother's copy of the César's cookbook. This is from a restaurant that thrives despite being down the street from both the venerable Chez Panisse and divine Cha Am, probably based on these excellent recipes. The roasting does much for a so-so tomato. (But we live in Greece- there is no such thing as a so-so tomato.) I love César's rich and full flavored gazpacho, which I leave rough textured-  Gazpacho 1. 

The suave, subtle suede of the excellent Mama Roux gazpacho.

So then, a friend of mine said "You have to try the Gazpacho at John's. It's even better than yours." I was all ears, not envious but definitely startled (I never heard that sentence before), and curious, and very hungry for it by the time I reached the restaurant. Well, it was good! And the difference, chiefly? One of texture- the Mama Roux* Gazpacho had been through a tamis and was suede on the tongue. Delicious balanced flavor. The rich texture (but not in the least heavy) put one more in mind of a meal than a blended salad. I made a basic gazpacho, and after blending, forced it though a fine mesh strainer. Excellent results. Gazpacho 2.

But I missed my version, the earthy roughness of it. What I did not miss was the slightly cooked flavor. The completely raw version was livelier, more vivid. And the Greek tomato needs no help from roasting, amply sweet and flavorful as it is. I do love a rough texture, but small bits of raw tomato skin make have the texture of cling film. In the roasted version, those skins just slipped right off. Blanching in scalding water sounded like no fun, and broiling would cook them too much, and also be no fun. You know what is fun though?- Blow torches**! Although I did not want a cooked flavor, a burnt flavor is a different thing altogether- rich bits of char fit in with the rustic roughness. I trained the blue flame on the skins and they blackened and crackled and hissed. The pulse of the Ur-pyromaniac in me quickened with glee. The smell was marvelous. The flesh between the cracks of blackened charred skin was as raw and vibrant as ever.

"When you're holding a hammer, everything looks like a nail," so goes the saying. When you're holding a blowtorch, everything looks like it might taste better charred. I started looking around for more things to burn. I avoid onion in gazpacho as the flavor of raw onion can sharpen over time. But not the flavor of charred onion- that mellows over time. To the pan I added some thick slices of onion, a garlic clove, and such peppers as I had lying around. The onion takes a surprisingly long time to take color. The garlic softened and took on some sweetness and richness from the flame. The cucumber I left cool and raw.

Was the flavor the equal of vegetables roasted over glowing coals? Perhaps not. But there were no coals to light and wait for, no smoke for the neighbors to complain about (and we already have a dog), no ashes to clean up, and no radiant sweltering heat to sweat over. There was also a level of control and immediate satisfaction that experienced cooking at its most fun provides, but without the need for any experience. And the cool hiss of the torch and the blue flame lend the lively zest of danger (which is real- no loose clothing, hair out of the way).

For Gazpachos 1, 2 or 3, we need the same things:

1 kilo of tomatoes
a garlic clove

a pepper or two

a long cucumber, peeled roughly

a thick slice of stale bread- ciabatta or old-leavened bread

1 tsp. of vinegar

2 T strong wine- sherry would be ideal but I had Cretan Romaico from a friend and it was excellent

120 ml/ 1/2 C olive oil

salt to taste

Maybe an onion

A glass of very cold water to loosen it up enough to be a soup

Gazpacho 1.

For the Cesar's- roast the tomatoes (great if you have a craving in winter!), slip the skins off and remove the cores, mash the garlic into a puree with some salt, and puree everything in the blender until it is the texture you like.

Gazpacho 2.

For my version of Mama Roux's version- Mash the garlic with the salt, core the tomatoes, and puree everything raw. Press through a fine mesh strainer into a bowl, and puree the remaining solids with some cold water and press through again. Only seeds and skin will remain in the strainer this time. Taste for seasoning.

Gazpacho 3. (3 times is a charm)

For the new one, char everything but the cucumbers and the bread. Prepare the vegetables- tomatoes and peppers washed and not wet, onion peeled and in thick slices, garlic whole and unpeeled. Put them in a large and deep metal pan and take it somewhere open and safe with nothing flammable around. The skins of the tomatoes should be entirely blackened (you will need to turn them once- let them cool first), and the peppers nearly so, the garlic golden and the onions browned. It will take 10 or 15  minutes. Mash the garlic into a puree with some salt, remove the cores of the tomatoes, and puree everything- including paper-thin, crisp, fragile and blackened skins in the blender until it is the texture you like. 

Beautiful black flecks are a smoky confetti in our rich red soup.

*Mama Roux is fabulous and is opening a barbeque restaurant soon and also has a talented and creative and passionate chef- here he is, talking about his research and experiments-

Chef Vasilis Sporos in front of Mama Roux

**there are excellent kitchen blow torches available at any culinary supply. But mine is a blowtorch from the hardware store- cheap, basic, given to uneven burst of flame that keep me on my toes, and best of all easy to refill- it takes a gas canister from the supermarket, just like the camping gas we use for Greek coffee. 

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The Aperitif Biscuit- Making an Occasion of the Evening's Glass of Wine.

The maxims of Frank Lloyd Wright* and Marie Antoinette ever in mind, adding a note of formality to everyday life has really taken the edge off of our so-called deprivation. That theme of stubbornly continuing to live well- whether or not it is within our means- keeps rising to the surface. It seems neither it, not we, nor certainly pleasure itself, are to be kept down. These aperitif biscuits- adding very little expense- are one of the many small things we have adopted to add a sense of occasion to the everyday. The glass of dry Cretan wine (tawny bronzy-rich, like a sherry) now becomes an aperitif- accompanied by these biscuits, it is elevated from drink to genteel ritual.

My friend Janet is expecting guests for a week, a good time to share this recipe. It comes together in very little time and makes about 8 dozen, plenty for even two weeks worth of cocktail hours. The heat of the black pepper pairs surprisingly well with the fruit and cheese tray- with the black grapes that have just come in and a wedge of Roquefort, for instance, in case your aperitif hour is so pleasant you want to turn it into dinner itself, as we very often do.

We will need:

700 g/ a scant 6 C flour

1 1/2 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. black pepper, freshly ground (plus quite a bit  more for rolling)

240 ml/ 1 C olive oil

120-200 ml wine

flaky sea salt, several branches  of rosemary, and more freshly ground black pepper, for rolling

Combine the dry ingredients an blend in the oil until the mixture is uniformly cakey and green. (This will shorten the gluten strands in the flour and make the biscuits tender and crumbly rater than tough). Then add as much wine as you need to form a a dough that holds together but is not sticky. 

Wash and chop rosemary and add a tsp. of flaky sea salt and another 1-2 tsp. of black pepper and mix on a plate. Line 2 baking sheets with non-stick paper, and turn the oven on to 170 c/ 350 f.

Take a piece of dough and shape it into a baguette abut the length of your hand and the width of three fingers. Dampen it slightly with a wet finger or two, and roll the baguette lightly in the herb and salt mixture. Place on a baking sheet and continue, until you have 10 or 12 divided between the two baking sheets. Slice them as you like, not too thin though- the width of a pinky is ideal, and arrange the slices evenly, not touching if possible, as they will puff up and expand.

Bake them for 25 - 30 minutes, until they take a bit of color on the bottom and are dry to the touch. They will still yield to the press of a finger but will crisp up as they cool- baked until firm when hot from the oven and they may be dry.

It sound likes a lot of pepper, and it is- many turns of the pepper mill (grind it over a small piece of baking paper- you can then funnel it right into the measuring spoon). We like the lingering heat. They would be fine with less pepper, and with another herb of your choosing- a dry one, like thyme or sage. The recipe makes a tremendous amount in a very short time- forming and slicing them is not five or ten minutes' of playing with child's clay. They keep beautifully, and in fact are not at all tasty fresh from the oven- give them at least an hour or two before serving. They are as nice with sweet milky tea as with wine, but warn your guests- it is a biscuit that bites back.

Formality adds indulgence
much more than it adds expense.

* "Give me the luxuries of life and I will willingly do without the necessities."

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Hand-rolled Pasta with Herb and Walnut Pesto

The most satisfying dishes are often the ones costly in labor, cheap in materials. This is that dish at first glance, but the hand-rolled pasta takes in truth hardly more effort than tearing up a large salad, and walnuts are not so inexpensive, nor the Romano.

The faultless pasta is the recipe of Mark Bittman, from his wonderful NYT "The Minimalist" column is tender and rolls out easily. The amount is good for just two or three people, if this is your main course and you are hungry. Of course you could double it, but I have found that this is just the right amount of work- satisfying without becoming unwieldly. I've always made just the one batch. Mr. Bittman serves his with a chunky pesto, but I have found these gentle rag-shaped noodles pair very naturally with Marcella Hazan's butter tomato sauce. I made that sauce, as I always do, but I have some nice walnuts. The original recipe of green-sauced noodles, and the jar of sweet walnuts, and the fact that I was taking out the food processor anyway, inspired two sauces- It was our first outdoor lunch of the season, worth every fuss.

We'll start with the pasta. I think twice before taking a bulky piece of machinery from the cupboard, and I'm surely not alone in this. But the dough comes clean away from the blade and sides of the food processor- worth getting out. That bulky atlas pasta machine? We don't need it- just a rolling pin (the weight of a marble pin makes even lighter work of it.)

We will need:

260 g/ 2 C flour

5 ml/ 1 tsp. salt

3 egg yolks

2 whole eggs

Pulse the flour with the salt briefly then add the eggs and the yolks and process until thoroughly combined and crumbly. Pinch the dough- if it is too sticky, add just a little flour. If it is too dry to hold together easily- as mine was-, add a few drops of water, and pulse again. do not keep adding water and pulsing until it forms a ball. The mixture will look like steamed couscous. One press of the fingers and it should hold together beautifully:

Wrap the dough in plastic so it does not dry our and set it aside to rest for half an hour.

It's April, so the basil on the balcony has only just begin to sprout. There is a robust sage bush, but that is strong on its own. A handful of that with a big bunch of parsley in lieu of basil, and walnuts rather than pignoli, and some browned butter (on account of the sage) standing in for some of the olive oil made a pesto that was less of a seasonal stretch, and hearty for a cool spring day. 

For the pesto, we will need:

A bunch of flat leaf parsley- 2 cups loosely packed

about 20 fresh sage leaves

one small garlic clove, crushed and blended into a paste with a little salt

50 g/ about 3/4 C grated Romano or Parmesan

75 g/ about 1 C walnuts

50 g/ 4 T butter

50 g/ 1/4 C olive oil

Soak the herbs for a moment in a large bowl of water

shake dry and wrap in a towel to dry them nicely

Brown the butter over medium heat, stirring all the while, until fragrant, and pour it into a bowl to stop it getting too dark.

Put all the ingredients into the bowl of the food processor, and pulse until it is the consistency you like.

That dark liquid over the grated cheese is the browned butter-
marvelously fragrant and perfect with the sage.

The batch is more than enough for the amount of pasta, and the leftovers are fabulous on bread, maybe with a little prosciutto.

Time to roll out the pasta. Simply divide the dough in half and, on a lightly floured surface, roll it out as thin as you comfortably can. Ours came out like this:

Now cut the dough into whatever shapes you wish- large squares will in fact mimic "fazzoletti" (handkerchiefs). Keep in mind, the pasta grows tremendously in cooking. Squares the size of four postage stamps will cook up quite large- dramatic and fun on the plate.

You'd think that since there is salt in the dough you would not need to salt the cooking water  it, but that would be a mistake. Salt the water as you would for cooking boxed pasta. The cooking time will depend on the thickness of the noodles and your own taste. Although fresh pasta is delicate and they say it just needs a whisper, these are quite substantial- I found ours needed a full 8 minutes. Keep tasting them- if they are underdone, they can be rather heavy in texture.Let your taste be your guide.

I also found I needed to cook them in 2 batches.

The pasta water is thick and silky and salty and just the thing for thinning out the pesto- the pasta soaks it right up so be ready to thin it down enough so that there is some sauce left on the plate. 

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