Archive for the ‘italian’ Category

I’ve been getting back to basics. Going for walks. Ignoring the computer on weekends. Not shopping (much). Oh, and making pasta. I find it relaxes me – something about the mixing and then the kneading and the rolling and cutting. Making ugly, knotted, doughy things beautiful and smooth and speckled with flecks of sunshine yellow. Watching ribbons of gluten stretched goodness flapping around in the breeze on the balcony. Standing in the kitchen, arms aching, entirely satisfied, without having to trot over to the gym and then back again. Oh. And being about to eat your bicep workout later? Just fantastic.

Mister Fish (sourced with great panache from the Eveleigh Markets) needed a friend to accompany him to dinner. He, with his rich smokiness. She, with her citrussy warmth. They were quite the match. It was, however, a pity that nobody told them that they were to be dinner, rather than guests at the same. A pity for them, I should say. For we were quite, quite happy with the result.

can you see the speckles of yellow?

Pasta making is not hard if you have a machine to do your rolling for you. It is a little more of a workout if you don’t, but not entirely impossible. You will be most (most!) appreciative later. Not only for the newfound muscle definition, but for the wonderful thing that is fresh pasta. An especially good thing if you’ve been eating its dried cousin for years and years. I kid you not. It’s so good, I’ve been making a batch every week.

lemon rind pasta

ingredients:

3 eggs (about 60g each)
300g plain flour
1 lemon

method:

0. Before we start, let’s take a look at the ingredients. Generally, I use 1 egg per 100g plain flour (you can use Italian Tipo 0 or Tipo 00 for a finer pasta with a higher gluten content, but plain works just fine). This produces a lovely noodley pasta. If you like, you can increase the egg:flour ratio so you’ve got 3 eggs and 210g flour for a really nice, yellow, eggy pasta. It will be stickier, but it will also be easier to roll out. Aim for about 75g flour per person for a nice big meal.

eggs and flour

1. So measure out your flour and pull the eggs out of the fridge. Or out from under the chook. Whichever is more convenient for you.

add lemon rind

2. Dump the flour into a bowl (plastic, glass or metal – wood is not so great) and make a dent in the middle that is big enough for your eggs to fit into nicely. Crack the eggs and tip the insides into the floury dent. Grate your lemon rind on top.

combine to form a ball

3. Now, using a utensil of your choice (I have used a wooden spoon and a spatula with equal amounts of success), smoosh the egg yolks in (tell me that wasn’t fun & I’ll tell you you’re lying) and stir just the egg like you’re making an omelette. As you stir the eggs around, the flour will get caught up in it bit by bit. After a while, you’ll get to a point where you just can’t stir anymore. So scrape off your implement (tell me that didn’t sound nasty) and get your hands in there. Stop when you have a ball-ish shape with as much of the flour incorporated into it as possible.

rolling out the pasta

4. Your pasta will need to chill out for a bit. So stick it into the fridge while you wash everything up. All, like, three things you’ve used since you’ve started. And that grotty old coffee cup that no-one wants to wash cos it’s, well, a grotty old coffee cup.

5. Once your pasta has finished chillaxing, pull it out of the fridge and onto a benchtop. Flour lightly if you will. Roll it out as much as possible using a rolling pin.

6. If you’re just using the rolling pin, here’s the easiest way to do it.

6a. First, use a higher egg:flour ratio. That will help.
6b. Roll it out as much as you can in one direction.
6c. Stop, let it shrink back a bit, then rotate 45 degrees and roll out as much as you can again.
6d. Lather, rinse, repeat. Which is hairdresser talk for repeat step 6c until you’ve come full circle.
6e. Flour, flip and repeat again until you’ve gotten to your desired thickness.

passing the pasta through the machine

7. For those of you who do have a pasta machine, this bit is simple. Lock & load baby. Start with half of your dough. Pass it through the thickest level five to six times, or until the pasta stops looking like a dried out bit of crusty dough and starts looking like pasta.

8. For ease of cutting, fold over any rounded or funny shaped ends so you end up with a rectangular shape.

9. Keep working your way down the roller sizes until you get to about 4 (or whatever half way is for you). Then cut in half and keep rolling. It will get ridiculously long otherwise.

pasta prepped for cutting

10. You should, by now, have four long pieces of dough, all beautifully rolled out and rectangular. As so. Lay one piece out and flour liberally.

roll it up & cut it up!

11. Roll it up loosely and then cut it into strips of whatever thickness suits your fancy. I like it fancy. I mean, thick. Then quickly unroll the pasta strips! “Yeah! Success!” is what I normally exclaim at this point.

cutting with the machine

12. If you are cutting with the machine, you will get skinner bits of pasta, and your ability to roll in rectangles will become quite (quite) important. Pass it through gently, making sure to line it up properly at the top.

hung out to dry

13. Most importantly? Hang your babies out to dry. I like to make my pasta twice as long as I intend to eat it so that after it is dry, I can snap along the hanging line. How to dry it? Well, alls you gots to do is grab a stick (I used the end of a broom – that I’d cleaned first. Clean it first people!) and prop it up between two things of equal height (my deck chairs). As you cut the pasta & unravel it, drape it over the broomstick. See, pretty no? It’ll need about half an hour of dry time before cooking.

How to cook it? Well, I just might deal with that in another post. Stay tuned

Before I start, “Hello! Welcome! and thanks for the cheese!” to all my new readers (whose presence I have recently been made aware). Ok. That’s all. So what I really wanted to say is…

It’s Friday! And that means that it is more likely than not that I am presently twirling around in my swivel chair at work, arms flailing like a drunk seagull.

Fridays are the last day of my working week. The day before Saturday. A day in which I can wear jeans, or dresses, and flat heeled shoes to work. A day of after work drinks & snacks, Friday night dinners and (my favourite) Lunch. That’s right. Lunch. With a capital L. Because on Fridays, lunch are a little bit of a big deal. And on one Friday, not dissimilar to today, the boys & I traipsed across the park, then down, down, down the hill, past the boys’ school on the left (you know the drill by now) and then up, up, up the hill along Stanley St before hanging a right straight into Bar Reggio.

We’d been here before. Well, I’d only been once before, but that was enough for me to know that I wanted pasta. Or pizza. One of the two. And, such was my indecision, that it wasn’t until after the boys had both ordered, and the waiter looked in my direction that I actually decided. And by decided, I mean said the first thing that came into my head. And that thing was the scampi linguine.

scampi linguine (special) $25.00

The last time we’d been here, I ordered a vegetarian pasta. Don’t look at me like that. It had artichokes in it and I really felt like artichokes. Until, that is, my next door neighbour’s plate of crab farfelle arrived and all I could do was think of crustacean.

So this hit the spot.

Five scampi halves, buttered, egged and grilled under a salamander, arrived on top of a giant (and I mean giant) pile of perfectly al dente fettucine. Olive oil and parsley topped it all off and I amazed myself by polishing it all off. I have to say, the olive oil here is wonderfully fruity, I could taste it with every bite, and that’s a big deal when it’s battling with scampi.

large pizza: half mortadella half something else

The pizzas actually arrived before my pasta, but not before a decently long wait. It could have been that we were hungry, or that it took just a little longer than we were hoping for, but the wait felt like it went for days. Weeks even.

So when the pizza did arrive, we all hopped straight in. It wasn’t until halfway through the first slice that someone said “Weren’t you planning on taking photos of this?” My response, through a mouthful of cheese went something like this “Mmmm…orrrrgh! *gulp* hold on.” Hence the semi-dessimated pizza shots

large pizza: half prawn, chilli & garlic; half marinara

The other pizza (the one that I nicked a slice of whilst waiting for my pasta to arrive) was absolutely lovely. Now, I’ve read about how Bar Reggio’s pizzas are burnt and oggy, over-and-underseasoned, lacking in general flavour… but I have to disagree. This pizza was wonderful. It tasted fresh, it arrived warm, the base was crispy and the top golden with cheese.

I have good authority on the quality of the pizza too – 1x half italian/half malaysian thought it was just right (and if anyone’s going to have high food standards, he’s it).

After inhaling our meals (literally! We ate so much so fast I was quite quite uncomfortable afterwards) we wandered back down the hill to the boys’ school, up the hill past it and across the park. By this time it had started to rain, but the warmth from lunch hadn’t escaped me and when I turned up at work, I was told I looked vaguely like a small drowned animal.

Bar Reggio
135 Crown Street
Darlinghurst (cnr Chapel St)
ph (02) 9332 1129