January 8 – January 14, 2024

Monday:                   Black Bean Chili with Mushrooms

Tuesday:                   Balsamic Mushroom and Sausage Pasta

Wednesday:            Mustardy Cider Braised Porkchops

Thursday:                 Dinner at the PFC

Friday:                       Double Pepper Diavolo with Shrimp

Saturday:                  Pizza, Salad

Sunday:                     Chicken Chile (for the game that wasn’t played)

The Infinitude of Pasta

It is COLD at Casa Stuarti, though not nearly as cold as Buffalo where the Steelers were to have played yesterday afternoon and test whether our late-blooming team could make it past the mighty Josh Allen in his home stadium.  We are staying inside, except for shoveling the snow, getting the papers and the mail and hammering back in the markers that line our driveway in winter to keep our snow-plow guy from scalping the lawn.  So far, the snow-plow guy has knocked over the markers each time he’s come by.

But we are consoling ourselves for the weather, the environmentally destructive snow-plower, and the lack of a Steelers game by cooking chili and pasta and other homely and hearty and warming meals.  Now, about pasta . . .

We have, like most Americans, gotten beyond the spaghetti and meatballs of our youth and explored the world of pasta so thoroughly that we have come all the way around to the spaghetti and meatballs of our maturity.*  But on that journey we have encountered so many other pastas, first discovering fettucine (in Alfredo sauce) and linguini with clams, ravioli not made in industrial quantities by Chef Boyardee, the wonderful wide noodles of tagliatelle and pappardelle, penne and rigatoni and the giant tubes of pacheri, tiny soup-filling pastas like ditalini and acini di pepe and the greatest shapes for people who like pasta as much as sauce – bucatini and strozzapreti (‘priest stranglers’).  Of course, we continue to love the lasagna and manicotti and macaroni of our youth.  But we just don’t have the same relationship with them that came with the red-sauce and red and black decorated restaurants of mid twentieth-century Pittsburgh.

*No criticism of our sainted mothers is meant or implied.  Back in their day, the only mushrooms in the store came in cans, arugula was thought to be an island in the Caribbean and spaghetti sauce (at home) came from a jar labeled “Ragû,” which is still okay, if a bit sugary to our taste [If you’re going to buy a jarred sauce, buy Rao’s – it’s worth the extra money.]  And those blessed women had to cook for 7 (my Mom) and 7 [2 parents, 4 kids and G’Ma Kelly] (Beez’s Mom), respectively.

In addition to good and unusual pastas, we have also discovered that we like a more-than-basic red sauce, a sauce that dresses our pasta but doesn’t drown it.  And, of course, we have learned to cook our pasta al dente, usually finishing it off by cooking it for the last few minutes in the sauce.  I’m pretty sure that all of you do the same thing. 

Please keep exploring those pastas.  There is, in fact, an infinitude of them.  If you haven’t cooked with cavatelli or pichiarreli, give them a try.  And there is an infinitude of sauces.  There are fairly dry sauces, minimal sauces of parmigiano, garlic and olive oil, and the simple vegetable sauces (zucchini is a great one).  And last week we found a new sauce that is craveable and perfect for bucatini.  This pasta dish allows you to really enjoy the pasta (you’ll want to buy a good Italian import or get some fresh pasta for this) and to be surprised by how deep a flavor you can conjure with a simple sauce.

[Note:  We rarely make our own pasta.  It is difficult to make a good pasta without a lot of practice or very expensive equipment.  The relatively inexpensive hand-cranked pasta machines require the same amount of practice and experience needed to drive at Monte Carlo for the Ferrari team.  Besides, there is such very good imported, dried pasta and we can get excellent frozen pasta at Labriola’s.  And increasingly, fresh pasta is available at specialty stores – we have one store that does nothing more than make and sell fresh pasta.]

BALSAMIC MUSHROOM AND SAUSAGE PASTA

(adapted from bon appétit)

Timing:          35 minutes – if cooking pasta separately* – 45 minutes

*If you are clever enough to cook the pasta and sauce concurrently, we congratulate you.  I’ve discovered that cooking the sauce up to a point, and then cooking the pasta and finishing it in the sauce avoids burnt sauces, over and under-cooked pasta, and a good deal of stress, burns, knife cuts, etc.

Ingredients:                                       Serves 3 or 4

12 oz. medium tube pasta – we used mezze rigatoni, a favorite.

{Note:  we used the whole 16 oz. that comes in a typical box of dried pasta and added a bit more mushroom and sausage than was called for, a bit more tomato paste and more pasta water.  Personal note:  What the heck kind of recipe meant for home cooks – I’m pretty sure that restaurant cooks don’t cook from bon appétit – calls for 12 oz. of pasta or 8?]

4 tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil, divided (you’ll use half to cook the mushrooms, half for the sausage)

4 tablespoons butter, divided

1 lb. crimini or button mushrooms, cut into ¼” pieces

8 oz. hot Italian Sausage

Large red onion, chopped

4 garlic cloves, coarsely chopped – we used 2 smallish cloves

2 tablespoons tomato paste

¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (we used maybe ¾ teaspoon, and served more with the meal)

1/3 cup balsamic vinegar

Kosher salt

Grated Parmesan, for service

Prep:

Heat a large pot of water to boiling, then add a generous handful of salt

Chop onion and garlic

Cut mushrooms into ¼” pieces

Gather spices and  balsamic vinegar

Cook:

Heat 2 tablespoons each of the oil and butter in a large Dutch Oven or large, heavy skillet over medium-high.  Once the butter has melted, add the mushrooms and cook about 2 minutes, stirring occasionally – they should be slightly softened.  Add teaspoon of kosher salt and stir until liquid is evaporated and mushrooms are browned – maybe 6 minutes.  Transfer mushrooms to a bowl.

Now heat the remaining 2 tablespoons of the oil (but not the butter) over medium-high.  Add the sausage and ¾ teaspoon of salt and cook, breaking meat into smaller pieces with a wooden spoon, until cooked through.  This can take anywhere from a few minutes to 10 minutes, if you have to remove the sausage from casing – the sausage will be condensed and take a while to brown.

Add the red onion and cook until lightly browned – maybe 5 minutes with occasional stirring.

Add garlic and cook, stirring until fragrant – 1-2 minutes.

Return the mushrooms to the pot, add the tomato paste and red pepper flakes and season with black pepper.  Cook, stirring often, until paste is darkened in color – maybe 3 minutes.

If you’re cooking the sauce first, simply turn off the heat at this point – you will reheat over medium-high when the pasta is nearly finished, and then add in the vinegar.

If you’re following my method, cook the pasta now to a minute short of al dente.

Three minutes before pasta is finished, reheat the sauce over medium-high.

Reserve  two cups of the pasta water, then drain the pasta.  Now add the vinegar to the sauce, scraping up any browned bits on the bottom of the pot – 30 seconds.  Turn the heat down to medium, add the pasta and at least ½ cup of reserved pasta water and the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter.  Cook, stirring often, adding more pasta water as needed, until pasta is coated and sauce is satiny – 30 seconds to more than a minute.

Transfer to a platter or serve directly from the pan, topping with parmesan.