A Spring Pause
Masha's pesto pasta
I’ve been dreaming of Italy. Vivid dreams of warm, golden light splashing across a one-thousand-year-old piazza. Of the frenetic bustle inside a café, with people pressed elbow to elbow as they drink espresso in two or maybe three sips before dashing off to work. Dreams of stracciatella gelato and spritzes. Dreams of taking a meandering passeggiata cast in the dim yellow glow of gas street lamps.
Our friend Masha, who is an incredible cook, made lunch for Graham and I last weekend. When she set a steaming hot plate of pesto pasta in front of me, the scent of fresh basil and starchy noodles transported me straight to a medieval fishing village called Noli on Italy’s Ligurian Coast. Liguria is famous for its pesto, among other things, and there’s definitely something really special and unique about it. But somehow, Masha was able to capture the magical alchemy of garlic, pine nuts, basil, and Parmigiano here in California. Her pesto pasta was some of the best I’ve ever had.
I asked her what the secret was. She swears that you can taste the difference between a pesto made in a food processor and a pesto that’s been pounded in a mortar and pestle. The latter is fresher, more vibrant, more alive in flavor. Of course, crushing ingredients together by hand is more onerous than flicking a switch, but she assured me that you can accomplish the task in the time it takes for the pasta to boil. Masha is too smart and busy with her brilliant work to allow her time to be wasted, so I am inclined to believe her when she says it’s worth it.
Back home, I set out to re-create Masha’s pesto pasta. Here’s the recipe, as I learned it from her:
Bring a large pot of generously salted water to a boil. When the water boils, add 1 pound of dried pasta (to serve 4) and cook until al dente. Meanwhile, in a large mortar, use a heavy pestle to crush several peeled cloves of garlic and a few pinches of salt. Add a handful or two of raw pine nuts to the mortar and pound until they are crushed to a paste. (Masha doesn’t toast the nuts, which was a new approach to me, and turns out I adore the clean, pure flavor of pesto made this way.) You can drizzle in extra-virgin olive oil as needed to help the nuts turn into nut butter, but don’t add too much oil at one time or the mixture will be too sloshy to pound easily. Add a handful of fresh basil leaves, torn into pieces if they are large, and pound to incorporate them into the garlic and nuts. Continue adding basil and pounding until you’ve added the leaves from at least one large bunch. (Masha believes you should push right up against the limit of how much basil the pesto can possibly contain—the more the better.) Stir in lots of grated Parmigiano and enough olive oil to create a pesto that has the texture you’d like. Looser, with plenty of oil, can be nice for spooning over a tomato and fresh mozzarella salad. Taste the pesto and adjust the seasoning by adding more salt if needed. Scoop up about a cup of pasta cooking water before draining the noodles. Toss them with the pesto, adding a splash of the reserved water to create a little sauce. Serve right away.
And… for a little bit of exciting and very happy news! Graham and I are expecting Arthur’s little brother, who is due to arrive any day now. This newsletter will be taking a spring pause. I might write to paid subscribers every so often if I can swing it, and I will absolutely be sharing all about my newest book, Cook Color, when it comes out on May 16th (pre-order your copy here!). Thank you so much for your support of my work and for your kind understanding that this is going to be a busy spring with a new baby and book baby, too! I am so grateful for all the love.
xo,
Maria