Hey, it’s July. Picnics, cookouts, pool parties, all of which are ways of coping with the 100-degree F (38-degree C) heat of mid-summer. So what better time to talk about pasta with sausage and heavy cream?
Bear with me.
My part of the world had a fluke cold snap back in June, and as a result I briefly indulged in what would normally be more autumnal fare, including this dish, which was unknown to me until I saw it prepared on PBS's America’s Test Kitchen. So I made it, and took a few pictures, but I’m just now getting around to writing about it. There's a relatively small amount of cream and sausage involved here,
I’ve written in the past (at length) about my love/hate relationship with Christopher Kimball’s Cook’s Illustrated/America’s Test
Kitchen/Cook’s Country empire, which is heavily focused on Science with a
capital-S. Their recipes are thoroughly tested, reliable, and quite tasty, usually. All of which is to the good. But in
more extreme moments, they can descend into reductio-ad-absurdum
territory. There is no need for any human being to write a formal recipe for a grilled cheese sandwich, let alone one for the “perfect” grilled cheese sandwich, to pick
one of their more ludicrous examples. A grilled cheese sandwich is what you
make when you are too tired to care about “perfection.” Which is my long-winded
way of telling you that before they will allow you to make this dish, the ATK
crowd will demand that you make your own sausage.
Now, there’s
nothing wrong with making your own sausage if you’re so inclined. As
you may remember, we have done this before, with great results, and for what
it’s worth, that particular sausage works well in this recipe. But the reason ATK
demands the DIY sausage—at least I think this is the reason—is that what is
sold as “Italian sausage” in the United States is not the type of sausage
actually used for this dish in Italy.
A word about
that.
I have no idea
when or why the Italian-American community started putting fennel seeds in
their sausages. But at some point, they broke with the sausage makers of their
native land and began to do so. This is something that horrifies food purists.
It’s NOT Italian, they bellow, glaring down their noses at you, dismissing you as
an ignorant cretin.
I get that, but only up
to a point.
I understand
why Italians would balk at a foodstuff they don’t eat being labeled “Italian.”
What I don’t understand is declaring such food off-limits. I mean, a lot of
people quite like what we shall henceforth call Italian-American sausages. Myself
included.
Cut to the
chase: you don’t have to make your own sausage for this dish if you don’t want
to.*
Heretic that I am, I am giving you permission to be lazy and use store-bought foodstuffs. You can make this dish with
Italian-American sausage. The earth will continue to spin on its axis, the sun
will continue to rise in the east, and entropy will continue to drag us
downward, ever downward, until we are ultimately consumed by the darkness while
an uncaring universe laughs mirthlessly at the folly of human hubris.
Sorry, that one got away from me.
Anyway, you
can either make sausage or just buy some. Italian, Italian-American, breakfast
links, Chorizo, Chipolata, whatever. If you like it, it will taste good here. Don’t
sweat it, even though Kimball and Co. disapprove.
Anyway, now that
I’m done ranting, here’s the low-down.
Start with 4
ounces (125g) of either store-bought or homemade sausage meat. Crumble it into
small pieces, and sauté in a little oil over medium heat.
When it is
browned, remove it with a slotted spoon and drain it on paper towels.
If you sausage
is still in large chunks, you may need to chop it up a little.
Meanwhile,
using a food processor, mince 4 ounces (125g) of cremini mushrooms. Or really, any mushrooms that appeal to you.
Sauté the
mushrooms in the fat remaining in the sauté pan, adding a little more oil if it
seems too dry. Cook over medium-high heat until the liquid in the ‘shrooms has
evaporated, which always takes longer than I think it’s going to. On my stove,
at least 10 minutes, possibly more.
When the
mushrooms have cooked to your satisfaction, add a clove of garlic that you have
minced or pressed, and some chopped rosemary. As noted earlier, I’m lazy, so instead of chopping
it, I just threw a sprig or two in and fished them out later.
After those
have cooked for a minute or two, and you can smell the garlic, add ¼ cup/60ml
of white wine. Continue cooking until the wine has evaporated.
Add the
sausage back to the pan, along with ⅓ cup (80ml)
of heavy cream, and bring to a simmer. Cook for a few minutes to thicken.
Meanwhile,
since this is a pasta dish, hopefully at some point you realized that you
needed to bring a pot of salted water to the boil. If you didn’t, do so now.
Add 8 ounces
(250g) of pasta to the boiling water, and stir to keep it from sticking. The
original recipe recommends orchiette; I’m using small shells. It’s useful to
have a shape that can hold the sauce like a little cup.
When the pasta
is done (tasting it is the only way to tell), take a cup and scoop out
some of the cooking water. We’ll need that in a minute. Now drain the pasta in
a colander.
Add about ⅓ cup (80ml) of the cooking water to the
sauce to thin it out. Add the drained pasta and toss/stir to combine.
Now grate a
very large quantity of pecorino or parmesan cheese on top, and stir that in.
Add some
chopped parsley and some lemon juice.
Serve it
forth—this serves 2, btw—adding more cheese, because when you’re already eating
sausage and heavy cream, you might as well shoot the moon and put on more
cheese. This is good, regardless of the provenance of your sausage—which is not a double entendre, no matter what it sounds like.
Bon appetìt,
y’all.
Note: Because
Kimball keeps his recipes behind a pay wall, I’m using a version I found by
Katherine Spiers on the KCET website; she got it from ATK, though, so it’s the
same one, right down to the brined, homemade sausage.
Recipe: Pasta alla Norcina
by Katherine
Spiers
on January 3,
2014 12:25 PM
Pasta alla
Norcina
Serves 2
Kosher salt
and pepper
1/8 teaspoon
baking soda
4 ounces
ground pork
1 garlic
clove, minced
1/2 teaspoon
minced fresh rosemary
Pinch ground
nutmeg
4 ounces
cremini mushrooms, trimmed
5 teaspoons
vegetable oil
1/3 cup heavy
cream
8 ounces (2
1/4 cups) orecchiette
1/4 cup dry
white wine
1 ounce
Pecorino Romano cheese, grated (1/2 cup) 1 tablespoon minced fresh parsley
1 1/2
teaspoons lemon juice
Grease small
dinner plate with vegetable oil spray. Dissolve 3/4 teaspoon salt and baking
soda in 2 teaspoons water in medium bowl. Add pork and fold gently to
combine; let stand for 10 minutes.
Add 1/2
teaspoon garlic, 1/4 teaspoon rosemary, nutmeg, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper to pork
and stir and smear with rubber spatula until well combined and tacky,
10 to 15 seconds. Transfer pork mixture to greased plate and form into
rough 3-inch patty. Pulse mushrooms in food processor until
finely chopped, 10 to 12 pulses.
Heat 2
teaspoons oil in 10-inch skillet over medium-high heat until just smoking. Add
patty and cook without moving it until bottom is browned, 1 to
2 minutes. Flip patty and continue to cook until second side is well
browned, 1 to 2 minutes longer (very center of patty will be raw). Remove
pan from heat, transfer sausage to cutting board, and roughly chop
into 1/8- to 1/4-inch pieces. Transfer sausage to bowl and add cream; set
aside.
Bring 2 quarts
water to boil in large Dutch oven. Add pasta and 1 tablespoon salt and cook,
stirring often, until al dente. Reserve 3/4 cup cooking water, then
drain pasta and return it to pot.
While pasta cooks,
return now-empty skillet to medium heat. Add 2 teaspoons oil, mushrooms, and
pinch salt; cook, stirring frequently, until mushrooms are browned, 3
to 5 minutes. Stir in remaining 1 teaspoon oil, remaining garlic,
remaining 1⁄4 teaspoon rosemary, and 1⁄4 teaspoon pepper; cook until
fragrant, about 30 seconds. Stir in wine, scraping up any browned bits,
and cook until completely evaporated, 1 to 2 minutes. Stir
in sausage-cream mixture and 1/3 cup reserved cooking water and
simmer until meat is no longer pink, 1 to 3 minutes. Remove pan from
heat and stir in Pecorino until smooth.
Add sauce,
parsley, and lemon juice to pasta and toss well to coat. Before serving, adjust
consistency with remaining reserved cooking water as needed and
season with salt and pepper to taste.
*
And if you do make your own sausage, you don’t have to brine it. ATK is obsessed with
brining, and insist on dunking virtually everything in sight in a salt-water
bath.
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