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I awoke late this morning, to find the sun beckoning me to life through the haze of my rem dream. I wandered to the kitchen toward my beloved Nespresso machine and pushed the button. As the smell of the coffee nudged me toward coherence, I opened the kitchen door to the most exquisite day we have had in ages. Why did I sleep so late?
Here in Charleston, summer seems to last forever, and those final hot days stretch well into September. The cool breeze and clear air alerted me that Fall just might be around the corner.
Maybe because I’m an October baby, or maybe because of the great Vermont vacations we took as a family in Autumn to see the stunning foliage, Fall is my absolutely favorite season. Maybe I just like the transitional seasons… summer into Fall and Winter into Spring. In this, nature reflects our lives, which are always in transition. To change is to grow.
At my first sense of crisp weather, my mind (always thinking about food) turns to the comforting dishes of fall and winter. As much as I adore and crave pasta, I tend not to make it so much in the hot summer months, with the exception of tossing it with fresh garden tomatoes and basil.
When I was growing up, Sunday didn’t exist without pasta. We certainly ate pasta during the week, but on Sunday it was required.
It was often fresh ravioli or manicotti from the Italian bakery, served with traditional ragu. Unlike my Dad’s Abruzzesi family who were famed for their homemade pasta, my Mom’s Sicilian family never made fresh pasta. This could be because my Nonna Jenny, owned her own business, a dress factory in the Bronx, and was a working woman back in her day.
When I arrived in Charleston as a young newly pregnant bride, the only pasta I found was Ronzoni spaghetti and elbows in the gourmet section of the local Piggly Wiggly grocery store for $1.69 a pound. Keep in mind this was 1975, and the price was outrageous! …so I started making my own pasta, and still enjoy doing it today!
One of my favorite pasta recipes is one I learned recently from my dear friend Elaine Trigiani for Cicatelli. In my family, they were called Cavatelli. We bought them fresh, but this homemade version is so much better!
A side note: Elaine and I are taking a small group to Sicily in the Spring! We will visit artisan food and wine producers, learn about the history, art and architecture of this fascinating island, and we will certainly be eating incredibly Sicilian dishes! If you would like to learn more, and hopefully join us, click here.
And now we begin…
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