{"id":923,"date":"2009-11-30T07:53:00","date_gmt":"2009-11-30T07:53:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2009\/11\/30\/i-am-not-kidding-around"},"modified":"2016-02-15T22:00:57","modified_gmt":"2016-02-16T03:00:57","slug":"i-am-not-kidding-around","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2009\/11\/i-am-not-kidding-around\/","title":{"rendered":"I am not kidding around"},"content":{"rendered":"

Well. It\u2019s hard to know where to start. I\u2019m tempted to jump right in, to say that you should hurry up and put a pot on the stove and make the pasta recipe below and let\u2019s get back to business, shall we?, but that doesn\u2019t seem right. First, I need to thank you. I had no idea that Delancey<\/a> would swallow me up like that, and I need to thank you for being so patient, so supportive, so good<\/span> to me. This restaurant is up and running today because of you. I am not kidding around about that.<\/p>\n

I am also not kidding around when I say this: I\u2019m ready to get back to writing. I can\u2019t imagine not having worked at Delancey, not having worked alongside Brandon, not having put my whole self into it, especially in the beginning, but I miss writing. I wish I could do both, but as you can see by my long silence here, it doesn\u2019t seem to work that way. Anyway, as personality types go, I am not a restaurant cook. When I\u2019m working the line and get a dozen orders at once, I do not experience an adrenaline rush. I experience an urge to run, screaming, out the front door of the restaurant and into the street. I can hack it, but I am not wired to love it. Of course, when I\u2019m writing, I also occasionally get an urge to throw myself into traffic, but the difference is that I love it anyway<\/span>. It\u2019s what I\u2019m supposed to do. It\u2019s why I am sitting here, typing this paragraph. It\u2019s also why, as of next week, I will no longer be working a regular shift in the kitchen at Delancey. I leave my station in the very capable hands of this lady<\/a> and this lady<\/a>. I\u2019ll still be there a lot of the time, doing errand-running \/ spot-cleaning \/ pinch-hitting \/ payroll-calculating \/ menu-shaping \/ proud co-owner duties, but mainly, I\u2019ll be writing. If I were the squealing type, I would totally be squealing right now.<\/p>\n

So, you know, blah blah blah, let\u2019s get back to business, shall we? I strongly suggest that you make this stuff.<\/p>\n

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\nI wish I had remembered to grate some Parmesan on top before I took that picture, but that\u2019s what I get for waiting to cook until I was wickedly hungry and then trying to mix starvation with food photography. Then, as luck would have it, when I did<\/span> finally grate some cheese on top, I forgot to disable the automatic flash before pushing the shutter button. I hope you like your pasta with a side of glare. Delicious.<\/p>\n

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\nWhat you see above is the quintessential pasta dish of the Romagna part of Emilia-Romagna, tagliatelle alla Romagnola<\/span>. Only I made it with penne rigate instead of tagliatelle. Either way, the basic concept is this: noodles, butter, prosciutto, and Parmigiano-Reggiano. Noodles, butter, prosciutto, Parmigiano-Reggiano. It rolls off the tongue like a song, doesn\u2019t it? I\u2019ve been singing that one a lot lately.<\/p>\n

I know that the days after Thanksgiving aren\u2019t generally a time when most people want to think about butterfat, pork, and pasta, but tuck this recipe away, because you\u2019re going to want it someday. It\u2019s quick and pantry-friendly, and at the end of a winter day, when you\u2019re tired and cold, it\u2019s going to be your dinner in shining armor. If you were one of those kids who grew up on noodles with butter, or noodles with butter and Parmesan, you\u2019re going to go kind of nuts for this. It\u2019s what a security blanket might taste like, if you\u2019re the type of person who eats blankets. Or, if you\u2019re a fan of spaghetti alla carbonara, consider this its cousin, with prosciutto instead of guanciale, Parmesan instead of Pecorino, and no egg. The best part is that I learned about it from a book edited by none other than our very own Luisa Weiss<\/a>! The book is Giuliano Hazan\u2019s Thirty Minute Pasta<\/span><\/a>, written by the son of the great Marcella Hazan. If a pedigree like that doesn\u2019t make you want to put a pot of water on the stove, it is a dark day.<\/p>\n

Here\u2019s the idea. You buy a thick slice of prosciutto. You cut it into short, narrow strips. You put a decent pat of butter in a skillet. When the butter melts, you cook the prosciutto for a minute or two, just until its raw pink color gives way to something closer to mauve, an unusually appealing take on mauve, and the general vicinity smells like bacon, minus the smoke. It smells fantastic<\/span>. Meanwhile, you boil some pasta. When the pasta is ready, you drain it and quickly dump it into the skillet. Grate some Parmesan over the whole thing, and stir and toss it with a couple of spoons. The warm butter that coated the pan now coats the noodles, and the prosciutto gets mixed up in there too, a little salty, deeply savory, rough and rustic, heady, hearty, comfortable. It\u2019s beautiful in the way that old ladies in Italy are beautiful. You\u2019re going to like it.<\/span><\/p>\n\n

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Recipe<\/div>\n

Pasta with Fried Prosciutto, Parmesan, and Butter<\/h2>\n

Adapted from Giuliano Hazan\u2019s Thirty Minute Pasta<\/span><\/a><\/h3> \n \n <\/header>\n\n
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