Cooking without a clue: Pasta Arrabbiata.
written by Julie R. Neidlinger 8 comments link this postI always joke and tell people I can't cook. Today, for some reason, I decided that was a stupid rumor to spread around and I decided I would cook something for dad and myself for supper that didn't come out of a box or can (since that, to me, isn't "real" cooking). I figured any idiot can at least cook something other than Ramen noodles or a bowl of Grape Nuts, the latter not really falling in the category of cooking but was a key staple of mine in college.
I have a general problem with recipes, which is following them, because I don't like people telling me what to do. That has put a severe damper on my cooking, or at least, requests for my cooking.
The grocery store had some recipe cards by the deli, and one of them looked pretty good, even though I didn't know what "arrabbiata" meant. Here is that recipe as dictated by the card:
Pasta Arrabbiata
Prep Time: 30 minutes
Total Time: 30 minutes
Makes: 8 servings (about 1 1/2 cups each)
Ingredients:
1/3 C extra-virgin olive oil
5 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (29 oz.) Hunt's Crushed Tomatoes
1 can (28 oz.) Hunt's Petite Diced Tomatoes, undrained
1 tsp. crushed red pepper
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano leaves
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 lb. dry penne pasta, uncooked
1 C freshly shredded Il Giardino Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, divided
1/4 C thinly sliced fresh basil
Directions:
1. Heat oil in large saucepan over medium heat 1 minute. Add garlic; cook 3 minutes, or until golden brown, stirring occasionally. Stir in crushed tomatoes and diced tomatoes with their juice. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally. Reduce heat to low; stir in red pepper, oregano and salt. Cook 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.
2. Cook pasta in large saucepan according to package directions. Drain, reserving 1/2 cup of the cooking water. Return pasta and the reserved cooking water to same saucepan; stir in 1/2 cup of the cheese. Set aside.
3. Stir basil into prepared sauce. Add 2 cups of the sauce to pasta mixture; mix lightly. Spoon onto serving platter; top with the remaining sauce. Sprinkle with the remaining 1/2 cup of cheese.
How it really went down:
The lackluster grocery store I went to after work had no fresh red pepper. Anywhere. I realized, in amazement, what a small produce section there was and became fairly irritated when I considered the girth of the cookie and chips aisle. I also could not find even diced or canned pepper. I'd have to make do without, though I know that was a key flavor in the recipe. I'd have gone with canned, if they'd had it.
Which brings me to the tomatoes.
Leaving behind the irritation that I felt at the ingredients in the recipe that were called for specifically by brand, the canned tomatoes were a momentary issue. First, I had to get past the bickering married couple in the canned vegetables aisle (just pick some corn, @%!*&!, and get out of my way! If you don't like pimentos, don't get pimentos!).
One reason I decided to avoid box/canned food is because of the horrendously high sodium content. Looking at the crushed and diced tomatoes in a can revealed that I'd be adding about 400 mg of sodium each. Plus, there was no way I needed to make the full 8 servings the recipe called for and I wasn't going to deal with half-cans.
I headed back to the meager produce section and estimated, with all my experience as a non-cook to back me up, that two tomatoes ought to do it.
Garlic, basil, pasta and oregano: check.
I noted that the preparation time said 30 minutes, but since I wasn't using canned tomatoes and since I knew I'd break the cardinal rule when cutting tomatoes (which is to have a sharp knife on hand), I figured I'd have to encourage dad to watch some TV.
He went in the other room and watched TV.
I diced. And diced. And diced. I thought angry thoughts at the dull knife. I diced some more. I put the diced tomato in a bowl.
There was one tomato left. It was supposed to be the crushed one.
Crushed tomato. Hmm. I quartered the tomato, because I just felt like I should. Then I figured that although there was probably some super-secret technique used by real cooks everywhere, no doubt involving specific tools, I would just smash the tomato with my hand in a bowl. Done.
Garlic: easily minced. We have a small garlic press. I figured 3 cloves ought to do it.
I then started to follow the directions, at least in spirit. What I mean is, the only thing I really measured was the oregano. And then I added a little more, anyway, because I like oregano. Everything else was measured according to me reading the recipe and looking at the raw ingredients on the counter and thinking "that should do it -- close enough." I'd already missed on the pepper and the tomatoes, so I figured, at this point, winging it should work just as well.
The smell was heavenly. Few things smell better cooking in the kitchen than garlic and oregano and tomatoes. [I attempted to upload the smell for you here, in this post, but evidently that technology is not available yet.]
Since I refused to buy the brand-name ingredients listed as a matter of honor, the cheese I used had a little melting incident. Nevertheless, when it was all said and done (much, much later than 30 minutes) it looked like...vomit.
Dad took a bowl of it.
"If there was ever a time you ought to pray for your food," I said, "this is it."
I took a bowl.
I took a bite.
It was delicious. It really was. And it was even better knowing that the ingredients were fresh, that it was low-sodium and fairly healthy, and that the hydroponic tomatoes were not the other plant typically grown hydroponically.
Both dad and I had second helpings. Not bad, for a non-cook.
At the same grocery store, the one that lacked pepper but had arguing married couples in aisle three, I purchased a Taste of Home 2007 recipe winner magazine at the checkout. I think I'll attempt to cook again, someday. Boxes and cans not included.
Labels: food
Copyright (c) Julie R. Neidlinger 6/13/2007 08:49:00 PM
Like this post? Subscribe to the feed.
Help support this site.
Facebook |
Stumble It! |
Del.icio.us |
DiggIt! |
Technorati |
Blinklist |
Furl |
reddit |
Newsvine
8 Comments:
As an Italian, I salue you.
It's hard to find a good tomato. There's no substitute for a local farmer's market.
By 
, at
13/6/07 21:43
Good Job! I can imagine the scene and did you REALLY smash that tomatoe with your hands?
By 
Jacqui, at
14/6/07 06:52
Yes, I did, because that's what the recipe seemed to call for and I didn't know how else to go about it.
By Julie, at
14/6/07 07:11
Hmmm, Ms. Julie?...
Allow another Italian to salute you...
And offer a kindly hint... That 1 tsp of crushed red pepper is referring to the dried (hot) red pepper flakes in the spice aisle...
DaveK
By , at
14/6/07 09:24
Sounds better than the cheese burger pasta hamburger helper I made for supper.
By , at
14/6/07 09:31
(But I looked there for the red pepper when I gave up on fresh stuff...wouldn't it say on the little container "red pepper"? All I saw was "pepper" and those round peppers things people put on pizza...)
By Julie, at
14/6/07 09:59
Yep...
Them round (red) pepper things people put on pizza would be it...
They don't add a lot of flavor, just a little "bite" and they're commonly found in lots of red sauces...
DaveK
By , at
14/6/07 11:33
Dang. I missed the boat on the pepper thing.
But I only have to buy another tomato (and the peppers) and I can try again!
And this time, I'll be cooking with at least one clue.
By Julie, at
14/6/07 11:39
