Pasta Sundays
A slow winter weekend tradition
I pour a mound of soft flour onto the counter. A bird song slips in through the open window, long winter light stretches across the kitchen, setting the egg yolks aglow. The pitter patter of tiny feet race around, the words ‘Pasta! S’ketti!’ Shouted between laps. I dive into the pile of yolks and flour, mixing, kneading, folding until a smooth yellow dough forms. My mind drifts to the garden while I knead, thinking of the planting to come. A breeze rushes in. Pasta Sunday has begun.
For Christmas I bought myself a beautiful new cookbook, Pasta Everyday by Meryl Feinstein and it unlocked in me this desire to roll out fresh dough once a week (when schedules allow). Saturdays are filled with laundry and groceries and then Sunday comes - the perfect day for dough.
This year our winter has been mild, so mild in fact I have opened to windows in February while pasta steam wafts off the stove, door open wide while the toddler runs in and out. The soil calls me to tend it, to get in there early, but I know better - winter may still come. I keep myself busy folding farfalle and orecchiette to keep from digging in the dirt.
I also have longed to learn to make more than long strands of pasta, trying my hand at intricate cuts and folds to create something that cradles sauce just so. I hope to become familiar with several noodle shapes so when summer harvests do come, I will be ready.
My first shaped pasta I tried my hand at was cavatelli. Perfect little dumplings of dough, shaped on the reeds of a sushi mat. I love the author Meryl’s approach to using the tools you have on hand. I am excited to expand my pasta tool collection, but I loved the resourceful approach of leveraging what is already in my kitchen.
This book made pasta making approachable with its the slow pace of kneading and shaping dough. Pasta dough - shaped and unshaped - can sit at room temperature for five hours, leaving you plenty of time to shape each piece. I start my dough around noon, and shape noodles as I have a pause between life. I love the casual nature of it, kneading a big batch, rolling out ropes of dough, cutting into tiny sections and shaping each one. If I need a pause, it can rest until I’m ready for shaping again. Each noodle I shape I see steady improvement - a touch more curl, ridges and definition, a more appealing shape and size, until a consistent and beautiful noodle is created. The pause is so essential on a Sunday, to play or rest between, making it a restful activity to be slowly enjoyed and savored, not rushed. When I roll out dough, I picture the women in Italy who roll out dough in the sun, shaping thousands of little dumplings. They are unhurried, content in the steady, fulfilling task. I want to take on the same perspective in all my making, cherishing the creation as much as the finished result.
As I cut and shape, my son joins me, his tiny toddler hands eager to get in there and help. I show him how to shape a noodle, rolling across the sushi mat. He does it with such determination, his toddler hands just the right size for the little bits of dough. A perfect little dumpling is the result. His shaping ends there as he finds more joy in picking up the ones I have shaped and nestling them into the larger sheet. When making farfalle he gently picked up each bow tie and squished it into an open space on the cookie sheet. The bows lost some of their shape, but we gained so much joy working together. Making pasta with him results in silly conversation, flour streaked hugs and misshapen noodles. I cannot imagine anything more perfect.
The noodles are made, a sheet tray filled with perfect little pastas, I bring the pot to boil. A second pot melts butter, stews tomatoes, simmer softly with unctuous and rich bolognese. The kitchen heats up as pasta drop in, dancing wildly in the steaming water. A toddler face watches in anticipation, the golden winter light intensifying and windows closing as the February temps settle in for the evening. Pasta strained, they are added to the rich sauce. I toss and toss, coating each bite in velvety sauce. Bowls are served and we dig in. The silence of enjoyment. How delicious and comforting is a bowl of fresh pasta. I cannot wait for next Sunday.
Below are a list of dishes we have made from Pasta Everyday.
Cavatelli in Casual Bolognese
Farafelle in Slow-Roasted Salmon & Creme Fraiche Sauce with Peas
Herbed linguine in Wild Mushroom Sauce
Garganelli in Classic Tomato Butter Sauce (sauce from Genius Recipes)
