Pasta e faggioli

 Everyone has a dish that they use to gauge the overall quality of a restaurant.  For me, if it's a Mexican restaurant, it's Chili Colorado.  If they can't make this to mouthwatering perfection, I don't care about their so-called molé, I am not coming back.  At every sushi spot I hit, I ALWAYS order the Unagi first. It's my favorite and if it's not fresh and amazing I don't want anything else. 

With Italian food, when traversing various regions of Italy I rate my ristorante judged largely on their version of Pasta e faggioli;  a straightforward country dish - soul food of the south and central regions. Simple, but when made just right, it's absolute perfection.

Best I ever had?  A solid tie. We found Osteria Angelino down a side street between Piazza Venezia and Largo di Argento in Roma on a long day of museum hiking, and ristorante Quelli de' Coronari a welcome stopping point on my favorite street in Rome - Via del Coronari, also a purely luck find on a hungry of and on rainy day*.  Osteria Angelino is an old place whose history as a ristorante goes back to the 1800's and was frequented by Goethe the Poet during his brief sojourn in Rome. I have no idea how old Quelli de' Coronari is but it had the best pasta e faggioli AND the finest, most tasty Cacio e Pepe imaginable - a version of which totally defines this Roman-specific dish. Until I had cacio e pepe here, I was neutral on the dish. Meh!  It failed to impress the couple of other times I tried it. But on that sporadically rain-splattered day, sitting at a table on the busy street chatting with the. waiter and the ristorantes owner who hung back outside watching everything and subtly giving body language orders to his staff, the magic of cacio and pepe was revealed.  He met my eyes after I had my first bite and saw my look of awe and he just smiled, nodded, and lit another digarettte. A perfect Roman moment. But that is for another post.

* We like to travel to Rome in the late Fall and winter for the lack of tourists and the fresh weather. Rome smells amazing after a rain shower. There is nothing like it.

Pasta e faggioli is simple peasant food; country food elevated to heights by pure ingredients, and a simple, artful cook.  On the surface, it's only just beans and pasta and tomatoes, but when the flavors and the texture hit just might, it's the soul of Italian food.  I've had it in many places but the two examples above were transcendent. perfect smooth/creamy texture -  not quite soup, not quite a solid mound of stew. it is both savory and warm and feels like Nonna made it especially for you with all her love.   

I've made it a dozen times before I got the texture and blend just right but it's forgiving and adjustments can be made right up until it hits your plate.  It's my favorite Italian dish to make in the cold months.

What you need:

1.5 cups of dry cranberry beans. (other beans will work, but the taste of texture of cranberry is far and away the best)

        Soak them overnight or if you forget, at least 5 hours in advance. Then draining and replacing the soak water, slow simmer them until they are still slightly crunchy on the outside while soft and creamy on the inside.  Err to underdone as more cooking will happen as you go along

a bay leaf

EVOO 3 to 4 tbsps

a large onion, diced

1 medium carrot finely diced

Marsala wine a dollop (or two glugs)

a pinch of redpepper flakes (optional for you, required for me)

tomatoes paste

whole or diced tomatoes -  14 ounces - canned is okay

 a stalk or two of fresh rosemary chopped

1.5 cups of Ditalini pasta

The how-to:

As noted above, soak your beans the night before if you are virtuous, or soak them for at least 5 hours on the day of cooking if you wake up with an urge for pasta e faggioli but have not the soaked beans.  Then drain them, and with fresh water added to about 2 -3 inches over the soaked beans,  add the bay leaf and bring to a simmer, and let them cook roughly 30 minutes, beginning to check at about 20 minutes (depending on how slow your simmer is) for doneness.  Done = a pale bean that is firm on the outside but creamy on the inside.  al dente leaning toward ever so slightly underdone. 

Set aside and DO NOT throw away the water, it's the prime ingredient later on.

In a large-ish pot, get your EVOO shimmering hot over medium heat then add your onion and carrots and a twist or two of salt.  Cook stirring for just under 10 minutes till the onion is translucent and the carrots softened.

At about the 5-minute mark add a dollop of Marsala wine for fragrance and to help the carrot soften.

When it looks and smells ready toss in the pinch of red pepper flakes* for 30 seconds.  Then...

Add two or three tbsp of tomato paste and mix in thoroughly. Turn the heat down to medium-low and cook stirring pretty constantly for 5 minutes to really blend the flavors. Add the rosemary near the end.

Stir in your diced tomatoes.  If you're using whole tomatoes, mash them up a bit with the flat of your wooden spoon.  Bring to a very low simmer for ten minutes or so.  Check for taste and adjust salt, pepper, red pepper flakes.

After ten minutes add the beans and stir them in, then add the bean water.  The bean water will have incorporated the heart of the beans and adds the umami factor.  Cover the beans to about an inch overlay.  If you've got bean water left over, keep it close for texture adjustment as you push on.

Bring it to a slow boil and add the Ditarini.  Bring it back to a slow boil and cook for 8-10 minutes uncovered until the pasta is done al dente. 

Stir a lot near the end to keep the beans and pasta from sticking to the bottom.  Adjust with bean water to keep a slightly soupy texture -  alternatives are homemade chicken stock or another dollop of Marsala wine.

When the pasta is done and you've done your final tasting it's ready, As a final touch, using an immersion blender  (or let it cool slightly and move a few cups to a blender) cream about 1/4 of the dish and then stir thoroughly.

Serve with more EVOO drizzled on the top and some hearty rustic bread.

Perfetto!

*Be gentle. You're going not for heat, but for a tiny shock to open the palette.  A quick intake of breath.  When done right you won't even know red pepper flake was used. There will just be a semi-magical inhalation of flavors.

Just like Nonna makes: