Thoughts on Italian food and the “date”

My parents introduced me to Italy in the summer of my fifteenth year. This was shortly after the prune-mascarpone incident and Italy held an abundance of quality foods for my newly intrepid palate.

The trip began with a breakfast of Cornetti (Italian croissants) oozing with apricot jam, eaten starving off the plane (us not the Cornetti) and only got better. Pasta alla Norma, stuffed crespelle blanketed with besciamella and saltimbocca were my favourite discoveries. Beef tenderloin con balsamico charmed my parents. Italy was suffering a heat wave that year and it was scorching but it was nothing a cool creamy serve of vitello tonnato couldn’t solve. So taken was I with the above dishes that they were all attempted at home, with mainly happy results.

So, perhaps you can forgive me for being a little spoiled the day I went for the only (pseudo) date I had in uni (I dragged my friend N along because I was scared. Hilarious, I know. Don’t worry, I told him about it before hand, he looked disappointed but agreed).

We met the guy from the club, W, on Lygon Street. Although I just cannot get excited about the sloppy mess of coagulated noodles and over salty ham pizzas that generally (there are exceptions) masquerade as Italian fare on Melbourne’s Lygon Street, for convenience sake, it was our designated meeting spot.

He ordered a small (most menu items came in both starter and main sizes) chicken breast (white not dark meat! the horror!) risotto and claimed it was delicious but only finished half before declaring himself too full to eat another bite. I scoffed at his insipid obviously pre-cooked clumpy mush of a meal and mentally tsk tsked his poor taste. I, on other hand, powered through with a relatively tastier oversized calzone (only available in large) and finished the entire thing before making room for a dessert to be shared with N. This should have been the first sign.

He talked almost solely about his volunteer work, to which he seemed genuinely devoted. I have huge respect for this, we should all be more charitable, but really all this succeeded in doing was make me realise how morally inferior and incompatible I was. On my part, I bored him with stories of squid ink and where to find the best chocolate dessert calzone. He was bored. I was bored. This was not working out. The feeling was mutual. We made vague plans to see each other again sometime. He never called. I was glad.

What I was not glad for was possibly coming across as an unbearable foodie snob. In some ways I am. I have rolled and sliced my own fettucini by hand (look ma, no machine!). However, I also take immense joy in a sometimes low brow recipe I like to call baked pasta.



While it might find its roots in pasta al forno, my baked pasta is more often a dish to make the authentic Italian cook scream. When I have the luxury of time, it is crafted with homemade ragu and fresh grated parmigiano reggiano. But when time is scarce (far more likely) it is chock full of bottled pasta sauce, sliced frankfurters and a packet of pre-shredded “parmesan”. For sure, my baked pasta can be a compendium of food products that would never cross my lips individually. But together, they become perfectly acceptable. It is a dish that pleases the family and one that I make often.

Baked Pasta
I love cooking the béchamel (or besciamella, in Italian) for this recipe. It is a most reassuring sauce. It always thickens up like magic.

In terms of eating, this dish offers no challenging flavours or textures. It is just smooth soothing eating. I offer two versions of the recipe here, the original and the speedier but trashy (I mean this in the most positive way) alternative. The latter may be more Rachel Ray than bona fide Italian but it is a big bowl of comfort and sometimes that’s all we need.

The classy way

250g penne, a little under cooked (it will continue to cook in the oven)

For the béchamel:
1 ½ cups milk
125g fresh grated parmigiano reggiano, reserve some for sprinkling over later
3 tbsp flour
3 tbsp butter

For the ragu:
500g minced beef or cubed stewing beef
500ml chicken stock
1 tbsp sugar
2 carrots, chopped
1 onion, chopped
5 cloves of garlic, crushed
1/3 bottle of a good red wine
1/3 cup tomato paste
2 tablespoons flour
a pat of butter and 1 tablespoon olive oil

To make the béchamel:
Using a medium-sized saucepan, melt the butter over low to medium heat. Add the flour. Stir for about 3 minutes, or until no lumps remain. Whisk in the milk, a little at a time, to keep the mixture smooth. Bring to a slow simmer. Cook, stirring for about 5 minutes, until the sauce thickens. Season with salt and pepper.

To make the ragu:
Heat the butter and oil in a large casserole pot. Brown the beef over high heat. Set aside. Lower the heat a little and toss in the onion, carrots and garlic. Cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Mix in the flour. Add the tomato paste. Cook for another minute. Add the wine and cook until the alcohol fumes subside. Stir in the stock and sugar. Put the meat back into the pot. Bring to a simmer and then cover. Stew for 2 to 3 hours.

To assemble:
Toss penne with the ragu. Pour into a greased Pyrex dish. Cover with béchamel. Sprinkle over reserved cheese. Bake at 180C (350F) for 20 minutes. Serve.

The trashy way
250g penne, a little under cooked (it will continue to cook in the oven)
1 packet frankfurter sausages
1 bottle pasta sauce
Bechamel sauce (the recipe above but made with a packet of pre-grated parmesan)

Toss together penne, sausages and pasta sauce. Pour into a greased Pyrex dish. Cover with béchamel. Sprinkle over reserved cheese. Bake at 180C (350F) for 20 minutes. Serve.