How did we ever manage without pasta? When I was a child (oh God, here she goes…) it was something of a novelty, the kind of thing that you ate once in a blue moon, verging on risky or risqué, depending on your viewpoint. Now, of course, that’s hard to imagine. Pasta is just the best-ever storecupboard treasure, always there ready and waiting, cheap, easy and quick to cook, satisfying and reassuring, pleasing to both vegetarians and omnivores and open to endless variation. No wonder the Italians eat it every day.
With increasing popularity comes increasing variation. If you have ever stood, confused and bemused, in front of the wide stretch of shelves that houses the dozens of different sorts of pasta now available, this brief guide may be of use.
There is no shame in choosing dried pasta over fresh. Your average Italian household appreciates the value of dried pasta for most everyday cooking, so don’t ever look down on it. I would even go so far as to say that dried pasta often has a better texture and flavour than mass-produced fresh. It has a magnificently long shelf life (check the use-by date on the packet) and costs less than fresh. An unopened packet of dried pasta can be stored anywhere that is convenient – even in your sock drawer if you’re really pushed for space. Once opened, either cover the opening completely with clingfilm, or transfer to a resealable plastic bag.
Fresh pasta is extremely handy for those occasions when time is severely limited, as it takes only a few minutes to cook. The texture is usually softer than that of dried pasta, with less bounce. It really comes into its own with the multitude of stuffed pastas (you can get dried stuffed pasta, but it is generally pretty dire). Stuffed pasta, such as ravioli (plump square cushions), tortellini (small navel-shaped filled pasta) or tortelloni (larger navel-shaped filled pasta), is more expensive than standard pasta, but can be delicious. It needs only the simplest of sauces, such as melted butter, infused with sage leaves (melt butter in a small saucepan, then add a small handful of fresh sage leaves, turn the heat down to its lowest setting, cover and leave for 5–10 minutes), or a simple tomato sauce (see page 67) and freshly grated Parmesan. Most fresh pasta is made on a commercial scale, but if you are lucky enough to have a deli near you that makes its own, splash out occasionally to see how good fresh pasta can be when hand-made.
Fresh pasta should be kept in the fridge. If it comes in a sealed airtight packet, be guided by the use-by date. Once opened, use it up within two to three days. When buying tip-top hand-made fresh pasta, you really should use it within one or two days at most to appreciate it at its best. Although the fridge is the best place for it, don’t be tempted to wrap it tightly in clingfilm, as it may well become soggy and sticky. Keep it in its box or paper bag.
The cheapest pasta is made with no more than flour (hopefully, good durum wheat semolina flour) and water and perhaps a touch of salt. More luxurious is egg pasta, where copious quantities of beaten egg replace the water. This has a silkier texture and is considered superior. Storage is not affected.
The official line is that long-stranded pasta (spaghetti, tagliatelle, pappardelle, etc.) is best for the smoother, clingier sauces that will cling to each strand, coating it nicely, whilst smaller shapes (penne, farfalli, conchiglie, etc.) are more suited to ‘bitty’ sauces, because they catch the bits and pieces in their folds and hollows. When buying pasta for a specific dish, it’s worth bearing this in mind.
You can also buy very small pasta shapes, which are meant for soups.
As a rough guide you need about 100g (31/2oz) dried or fresh pasta per person. So a 500g pack of dried pasta will feed four to five people.
1 Take the largest pan you have, fill it two-thirds full with water, and place on a high heat. Add some salt – throw in a small handful, not just a pinch. Adequate seasoning with salt makes an amazing difference to the taste of the pasta, especially important when serving it with some of the simplest, olive-oil-based sauces. There is no need to add any oil to the water, as long as there is plenty of it.
2 Cover the pan (it will heat up more speedily) and bring up to a rolling boil. Now remove the lid, tip in the pasta and bring back to the boil. Start timing from this point. Stir the pasta once or twice as it cooks, to prevent sticking.
3 Perfectly cooked pasta is ‘al dente’, in other words offers a slight resistance as you sink your teeth into it. If it is soft and pappy then it has been over-done. The best way to test is just to take a piece or strand out of the pan, and bite into it. As soon as it is ready, whip the pan off the heat, set a colander in the sink, and tip the pasta and its cooking water into it. Drain well.
4 Pasta doesn’t like to be kept waiting. It really, really should be introduced to its sauce and eaten straightaway. If the worst comes to the worst and you have to keep it hanging around for a while, toss it with a spoonful of olive oil or a knob of butter, so that each piece or strand is coated, preventing it sticking.
5 When cooking pasta for a cold pasta salad, drain as soon as it is ‘al dente’, then immediately rinse under the cold tap to halt the cooking process. Drain thoroughly, then toss with a little olive oil before it has a chance to become sticky. Better still, toss it with the vinaigrette for the salad, which will then soak right into the pasta.
To the uninitiated this is one of the great kitchen conundrums: just how do you get those long, long strands of brittle dried spaghetti into a pan of boiling water without breaking them (or using an impossibly deep pan)? If this still puzzles you, here is the answer. Grab the spaghetti firmly in one hand and plunge the lower part down into the boiling water. Let go, and now use the palm of your hand to slowly nudge down the upper ends as the lower ends soften in the heat of the water. When you get them down as far as the rim of the pan, replace the palm of your hand with the bowl of a large wooden spoon and continue pushing the pasta down, letting it curl round the pan as it softens. Let it boil for a minute or so, and stir to separate the strands. Then just cook as normal.
King of the cheeses for grating over pasta is Parmesan, or ‘Parmegiano Reggiano’ to give it its proper name. No doubt about it. Because all Parmesan has been matured for a minimum of one year, and often longer. As a result, it is totally packed with flavour, and what a flavour – intense and powerful, but never overwhelming. A little goes an awfully long way, which means that a) it works out less expensive than it appears at first, and b) that it introduces less greasiness to the pasta dish. It also seems to match almost everything that you are likely to put on to pasta. In Italy, they never put any cheese at all with seafood pasta, but I’ve broken this rule on occasion, and have enjoyed the combination. Grana padano cheese is almost identical to Parmesan, but made just outside the Parmesan area, and subject to less rigorous manufacturing controls.
There is one other Italian cheese with similar qualities to Parmesan, though a subtly different taste, and that is pecorino, a sheep’s milk cheese. You will need the hard, matured variety of pecorino that can be grated. This is the proper cheese to use for a home-made pesto, but is harder to find outside Italy than Parmesan.
Whichever one of these you use, the key is to grate it to order. The ready-grated Parmesan that you buy in small tubs can be perfectly vile, enough to put anyone off the cheese for the rest of their lives. So, buy a whole chunk of Parmesan or grana padano or pecorino, store it in the fridge, wrapped in clingfilm or silver foil, and grate as much as you need while the pasta is cooking.
1 When you are ravenous, there is little that is more restorative than freshly cooked pasta, tossed with plenty of butter (or a little extra virgin olive oil), freshly grated Parmesan and freshly ground black pepper. If you can be bothered to chop a little fresh parsley, that’s even nicer, but not critical.
2 For something a touch perkier, heat up some olive oil in a small frying pan, while the pasta is boiling. Add a chopped garlic clove and a chopped, deseeded fresh chilli, if you have one, and fry until the garlic is beginning to colour. Draw off the heat. If you don’t have fresh chilli, then you can substitute either dried chilli flakes, or oodles of freshly ground or roughly crushed black pepper, but add them only a few seconds before the garlic is done, so that they don’t burn. Pour the oil, garlic and chilli over the drained pasta, toss and serve with Parmesan.
3 While the pasta is boiling, halve and slice an onion thinly, and chop a garlic clove. Heat a good layer of olive oil in a frying pan, fry the onion, stirring frequently, until beginning to brown, then add the garlic and continue cooking for another minute or so. Toss into the hot, drained pasta, together with torn-up basil or chopped parsley, or the freshly grated zest of a lemon, and freshly grated Parmesan.
When tomatoes are at their ripest and cheapest, in late July and August, tomato sauces are hard to beat. The first takes about half an hour, while the Salsa Cruda needs no cooking at all. Once you’ve mastered the art of making a standard tomato sauce, you open the door to a hundred and one different variations on the theme. Made from either fresh or canned tomatoes (in winter the latter usually have a better flavour than fresh ones, and are certainly better value), onion and garlic, the sauce can be lifted with herbs, other vegetables, bacon, chilli, beans, tinned tuna, shellfish, fresh fish and many, many other ingredients.
Serves 4
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 onion, peeled and chopped
3 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
2 x 400g cans chopped tomatoes in their juice, or 1 kg (21/4lb) fresh tomatoes, skinned, deseeded and roughly chopped
1 tablespoon tomato purée
1 bay leaf
1 sprig thyme
1 teaspoon caster sugar
salt and pepper
1 Heat the oil in a wide frying pan over a gentle heat. Add the onion and fry, stirring frequently, until translucent. This stage should take around 10 minutes. Now add the garlic and cook for a further 2 minutes to soften.
2 Tip in the tomatoes, the tomato purée, the bay leaf and thyme, the sugar, and some salt and pepper. Bring up to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer very gently for 20–30 minutes, stirring frequently, until the tomatoes have reduced down to a thick sauce. You may need to add a little water.
3 Taste and adjust the seasoning. Discard the herbs. Reheat when needed, and toss with hot pasta.
Just before tossing the Tomato Sauce for Pasta above with the pasta, stir in a really generous handful of fresh basil leaves, roughly torn up. The heat of the sauce will release their full flavour, but too much heat destroys it, so don’t put them in until the very last minute. I sometimes also stir mozzarella, cut into small cubes, into the sauce along with the basil. One regular ball of Italian mozzarella, preferably buffalo mozzarella, of around 150g (5 oz) will be plenty.
In other words, ‘angry sauce’ because it is aflame with the heat of chilli. Make a standard Tomato Sauce for Pasta as on page 67, using a whopping 5 garlic cloves, chopped, and adding 1/2 teaspoon crushed chilli flakes.
A sauce from the Apennines, where it is made with pork jowl. Pancetta is an easier option here. Cut 8 rashers of pancetta into short thin strips. Fry with the onion in the Tomato Sauce for Pasta on page 67, then add the garlic and a couple of pinches of crushed chilli flakes. Cook for a further minute, then pour in 110ml (4fl oz) dry white wine. Turn the heat right up and let the wine bubble until it has virtually all evaporated. Next tip in the tomatoes and purée, season and continue cooking as above. This is traditionally served with grated pecorino, though Parmesan is good with it too.
Or in other words, raw sauce…Made with ripe tomatoes, this becomes one of summer’s highlights. Chop and mix the sauce together an hour or two in advance, then toss the cool sauce into piping hot spaghetti, which releases the full flavour.
Serves 4
1kg (21/4lb) fabulous tomatoes, deseeded (see page 8) and finely diced
1 small red or white onion, or 3 small shallots, peeled and very finely chopped
6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons lemon juice or balsamic vinegar or sherry vinegar
2 garlic cloves, peeled and very finely chopped
a good handful of basil leaves, torn up
salt and pepper
caster sugar (optional)
1 Mix all the ingredients together, seasoning to taste, and adding a pinch or two of sugar if you think the tomatoes need pepping up. Cover and chill for about an hour (this lets the juices run out from the tomatoes and take on the scent of basil and garlic).
2 Taste and adjust seasonings, which should be fairly vigorous, before tossing into hot pasta.
Gorgonzola is a creamy yet pungent Italian blue cheese that melts easily into this rich sauce. It clings seductively to the tubes of penne, lightened by the presence of barely cooked spinach leaves, and toasted hazelnuts. A fabulous combination.
Serves 4
400–450g (14–16oz) dried penne
salt
300g (10oz) fresh small spinach leaves
45g (11/2oz) shelled hazelnuts, toasted, skinned and chopped
freshly grated Parmesan
GORGONZOLA SAUCE
110g (4oz) mild Gorgonzola cheese (Gorgonzola dolce)
100ml (31/2fl oz) milk
100 ml (31/2fl oz) double cream
1 Put a large pan of water on to boil for the penne, adding plenty of salt. When it has reached a rolling boil, tip in the penne. Bring back to the boil and then cook the penne until al dente – around 10 minutes, but check the packet for more precise timing.
2 Meanwhile, put the Gorgonzola, milk and some salt and pepper into a heavy-based saucepan. Stir over a low heat until the Gorgonzola has melted into the milk to form a thick sauce.
3 Now stir in the cream and raise the heat to medium. Cook for a further 4–5 minutes until it has thickened to a good coating consistency (see page 220). If the pasta is not yet ready, turn the heat right down low and keep the sauce warm.
4 As soon as the pasta is al dente, throw the spinach into the saucepan, give it one quick stir, and drain immediately. Tip back into the saucepan, add the hazelnuts and 4 tablespoons Parmesan, and then pour over the Gorgonzola sauce. Toss to mix thoroughly, and serve straightaway, with more freshly grated Parmesan in a bowl for those who want it.
TO ROAST HAZELNUTS Preheat the oven to 190°C/375°F/Gas Mark 5. Spread the hazelnuts out on a baking tray and slide into the oven. Roast for about 4–8 minutes, checking frequently, until they have begun to brown, and the skin is flaking off. Don’t forget about them, as they hurtle from perfectly browned to burnt in a remarkably short space of time. Roll the nuts around in a tea-towel so that all the flaky skin separates from the nuts. Pick out the denuded nuts and discard the skins.
The difference between home-made pesto and bought pesto in a jar is phenomenal. It’s like two completely different sauces. Real pesto is a stunning bright green, and has an extraordinary pungent fragrance that is utterly irresistible.
If you have a processor, then real pesto can be made in minutes. Even if you have to chop the ingredients by hand, it is still very quick to put together, with a pleasingly knobbly texture that is extremely fashionable, as well as an inestimable pleasure to eat.
Fresh pesto will keep in the fridge, in a covered bowl, for two to three days, and can be frozen very successfully. Handy if you come across a source of cheap basil, which does occasionally happen.
Serves 4 on pasta
85g (3oz) basil leaves
60g (2oz) Parmesan and/or mature pecorino, broken up into small chunks
60g (2oz) pine nuts
2 garlic cloves, peeled and roughly chopped
100ml (31/2fl oz) extra virgin olive oil
1 To make knobbly pesto (i.e. without a processor), pile the basil in the centre of a large chopping board, and top with the cheese, pine nuts and garlic. Now wield the largest, sharpest knife you own. Chop all the ingredients together, over and over again, until they are all very finely chopped. Mix with the olive oil, and there it is – knobbly pesto, ready to toss into hot pasta.
2 For creamy pesto, put the basil leaves into the bowl of the processor with the cheese, pine nuts and garlic. Pulse-process until very finely chopped. Scrape down the sides, then set the blades whirring again. Gradually trickle in the olive oil to give a creamy sauce.
This is one of my all-time favourite pasta dishes, based on a tomato sauce again, but this time with meatballs cooked in with it. Although purists will insist on serving it with freshly grated Parmesan, I like it best with grated mature Cheddar.
Incidentally, this is a sauce that can be made a few hours in advance and reheated when needed, as long as you are careful not to break up the meatballs.
Serves 4
400g (14oz) dried spaghetti
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
freshly grated Parmesan or mature Cheddar, to serve
MEATBALLS AND SAUCE
1 thick slice white bread, crusts removed
4 tablespoons milk
350g (12oz) lean minced beef or pork
3 tablespoons finely chopped parsley
3 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
salt and pepper
1 egg, beaten
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 x 400g cans chopped tomatoes
2 tablespoons tomato purée
1 teaspoon caster sugar
2 teaspoons dried oregano
1 For the meatballs, tear the bread into small pieces, put in a large bowl with the milk and leave to soften for 5 minutes. Add the minced meat, half the parsley, half the garlic, and some salt and pepper. Mix thoroughly, kneading the mixture with your hands, so that the bread dissolves and disappears into the mixture. Add just enough egg to bind the mixture without making it sloppy. Now roll into walnut-sized balls.
2 Put a large pan of salted water on to boil for the spaghetti.
3 Take the widest frying pan you have and place over a medium heat. Add the oil. When it is hot, add the meatballs in a single layer. They should sizzle as they meet the hot fat. If they don’t then it is not hot enough, so raise the heat a little. Once you have placed them all in the pan, resist the temptation to start moving them around. Leave them alone for 2–3 minutes until they have begun to brown underneath, then turn and continue until they browned all over.
4 Lift the pan off the heat, and tilt it carefully to allow excess fat to drain off into a heatproof bowl. Return to the heat.
5 Now add all the remaining sauce ingredients, including the remaining parsley and garlic, and carefully stir the sauce and meatballs around to mix everything up. Simmer very gently, covered, for around 25–30 minutes, stirring occasionally. Taste and adjust the seasoning.
6 About 10 minutes (check the packet for cooking times) before the sauce is done, add the spaghetti to the pan of now boiling water. Boil until al dente, then drain and return to the pan. Tip over the meatball sauce, toss to mix, and serve.
It is really worth learning how to make a good ‘ragù bolognese’ or bolognaise sauce. It is wonderful with pasta but has other uses too (see overleaf). In Bologna, ragù bolognese is often served with tagliatelle, and almost never with spaghetti! Choose whichever you like best.
The longer the sauce is cooked the better – the best Italian cooks let it simmer gently for 3 hours or so, constantly adding more liquid. You can get away with a mere 1 hour, however, which is just long enough to develop the flavours and soften the meat.
Serves 4
400g (14oz) dried tagliatelle
freshly grated Parmesan, to serve
RAGÙ
1 tablespoon sunflower oil or vegetable oil
30g (1oz) butter
1 onion, peeled and chopped
2 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
2 carrots, finely diced
2 celery stalks, finely diced
450g (1lb) minced beef
salt and pepper
freshly grated nutmeg
1 x 400g can chopped tomatoes
300ml (10fl oz) milk
1 For the ragù, heat the oil and butter in a wide, heavy frying pan over a medium heat. Add the onion, garlic, carrot and celery and stir, then reduce the heat and leave to fry very gently, stirring every now and then, until the vegetables are tender and patched with brown here and there (but not burnt). Do not rush this – it should take at least 15 minutes!
2 Add the minced beef, breaking it up into smaller pieces that can be mixed with the vegetables and spread out to cover the base of the pan completely. Leave for about 5 minutes, letting all the juice boil off. By now the underneath should have browned, but if not, give it another few minutes. If you turn it too early, then your bolognaise sauce turns out unappealingly pale. Once the underneath has browned, turn and break up the meat again, mixing in the browned bits. Flatten out once more, and fry for another 3–4 minutes until the underneath is good and brown.
3 Stir the meat, and add salt, pepper and a good grating of nutmeg. Add the tomatoes and half the milk. Leave to simmer very gently, until the liquid has almost all evaporated. Stir in the remaining milk.
4 Now just leave the sauce simmering very quietly for another 40 minutes or even longer, occasionally adding a little water if it threatens to boil dry and burn. Don’t rush it.
5 Taste and adjust the seasoning. Either use immediately, or reheat thoroughly when needed.
6 Put a large pan of salted water on to boil. Once it has reached a rolling boil, add the tagliatelle and cook according to packet instructions, usually around 10 minutes. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and return to the pan. Add the sauce, toss to mix and serve immediately with lots of freshly grated Parmesan.
OTHER USES FOR RAGÙ It’s really not worth cooking less than this amount of ragù, even if you are only feeding one or two. Instead of serving it with pasta for several nights in a row, try spooning it over baked potatoes and topping with a spoonful of soured cream, or rustle up a Mexican (ish) fiesta, by wrapping the sauce in warm tortillas, together with slices of avocado, pickled jalapeño peppers, soured cream and grated Cheddar. For a more anglophile approach, use the ragù as a basis for a cottage pie. Tip into a pie dish and top with mashed potato beaten with an egg. Make wavy lines on top with the tines of a fork, dot with butter and bake at 200°C/400°F/Gas Mark 6 for about 20–30 minutes until lightly browned and very hot.
I just love making pizza. I may not turn out something quite as perfect as a master pizzaiolo (pizza-maker) in the back-streets of Naples, but what emerges from the oven is all my own creation and tastes all the better for it. That’s the joy of DIY pizza – you can go for classics like pizza margherita, or let your imagination rip.
Here then, to set you going, is a bunch of starter pizzas. Whatever pizza you decide to try, remember that the key to a classy pizza is classy ingredients. Tomatoes should be ripe and sweet, the mozzarella must be bona fide Italian mozzarella, the basil must be fresh and peppery, and the olive oil is, of course, extra virgin.
You can’t make a pizza in half an hour. The actual cooking itself is a matter of a few minutes, but you must allow plenty of time for the dough for the base to rise. Let us assume that your kitchen is comfortably warm. In this case, you must start on the dough 11/2–2 hours before you intend to sit down and eat the finished pizza. Once you’ve kneaded the dough to a perfect smoothness, it will need roughly 1 hour to rise, which leaves you just enough time to flatten it out, smear on the tomato sauce and other toppings, bake it and get it on to a plate. If your kitchen is chilly, then either transfer the dough to a warm airing cupboard to rise, or allow more time.
Should it be more convenient to make the dough in the morning, for supper later on, that’s no problem. Just store it, in its bowl covered with clingfilm, in the fridge, where it will rise extremely slowly. Remember to bring it back to room temperature before using, i.e. out of the fridge at least half an hour in advance.
A pizza is really no more than a flattened piece of bread surmounted with a host of delicious bits and pieces. Therefore it needs to be made with proper bread flour, which is also sold as ‘strong flour’. Plain flour will not work, as it doesn’t contain enough gluten. Strong flour is rich in gluten, which gives bread its bouncy texture.
Yeast is what makes the pizza dough rise and comes in one of three forms – fast-working dried ‘easy-blend’ or ‘easy-rise’ yeast, ordinary dried yeast and fresh yeast.
Fast-working yeast The dried micro-granules of fast-working yeast are the most convenient. They keep for months in the cupboard, and can be mixed straight into the flour. This is what I have used in the dough recipe overleaf.
Fresh yeast Doughs made with fresh yeast usually rise more speedily than those made with dried (of either sort) and the flavour of the cooked pizza base is a little better. Fresh yeast can be bought from many bakers and some delicatessens. It keeps for a week or so in the fridge and can even be frozen for up to a month. You need twice as much fresh yeast as dried yeast. To use fresh yeast, crumble it into some of the liquid used in the dough, warmed to blood temperature. As a rough and ready guide, stick your finger into the water and count slowly to ten. If you can just about keep your finger in the hot water until you reach ten, but no longer, then the temperature is about right. You can also add a teaspoon of sugar or honey at this point, though it is not strictly necessary. Stir the mixture to soften and dissolve the yeast, then leave in a warm place (e.g. on a radiator or in the airing cupboard) for about 10 minutes, by which time the mixture will be very frothy, indicating that it is ready to use. Supposing, by some sad mishap, there is barely any evidence of activity and no froth to mention, you will just have to throw the mixture out – the yeast is dead. Either the water you used was too hot, or the yeast was too old.
Ordinary dried yeast Start off as for fresh, but you don’t have to crumble it.
It is quite impossible to tell you exactly how much water will be needed to produce a pizza dough of the correct consistency. One batch of flour will absorb more than another, and on a humid day you may need less water. Instead, consider the dough itself. When it is first mixed the dough should be quite soft and slightly (but only slightly) sticky. A dough that is too dry will be hard to knead and shape, but is easily corrected by sprinkling with more water and kneading until absorbed. A dough that is too wet to knead easily is no problem either – just dust it with flour (several times if need be), and carry on kneading until smooth and elastic.
Bread doughs are usually kneaded twice before baking. The first bout of kneading is the process that develops the gluten in the flour, to give an elastic dough as smooth as a baby’s bottom. As you knead the dough you will also trap tiny bubbles of air in the mixture – essential if your yeast is to work properly. When you come to bake the pizza the thousands of air bubbles expand in the heat of the oven to give the base its characteristic light bready texture. The second bout of kneading is much briefer, to even out the distribution of air bubbles in the dough.
Kneading requires some determination but is the ideal way to work off latent aggression. Sprinkle the work surface lightly with flour and rub a little on to the palms of your hands. Place the dough in front of you and push the heel of your right hand (or left, if you are left-handed) into the dough and then away from you, anchoring it steady with your other hand. The idea is to stretch the dough out. This becomes progressively easier as the gluten develops. Fold the stretched bit back over on to the rest of the dough, then turn the dough and repeat. Once you get the knack of it, you will develop a comfortable rhythm, punctuated only by the occasional break to rest your arm. Keep going for at least 5 minutes and probably longer, until the dough is as smooth as satin, and extremely stretchy and elastic.
Most food processors come armed with a dough hook which can be used for kneading small quantities of dough. Follow the manufacturer’s instructions but be aware that it is possible to ruin the motor if a) the dough is too stiff, or b) you send the hook round too fast, or c) you knead the dough for too long. Food mixers are stronger, but again take it gently and follow the manufacturer’s instructions.
Divide the dough into two pieces and roll each one into a ball. Dust two baking sheets with flour (or brush with oil). Dust the work surface with flour. Dust the rolling pin with flour and roll the dough out to form as large a circle as you can. This is a frustrating business as the beautifully elastic dough shrinks back to a smaller circle each time you roll it out.
To get it even thinner and larger, try to imitate professional pizza-makers, by picking the dough up and stretching it with your hands working your way around the circle, but trying not to tear holes in it. You could even have a go at whirling it around in a circle. Fun, but not always successful. Once you have stretched it as far as it will go (aim for about 25cm/10in in diameter), lay the dough circles on the baking sheets. Let them rest for 5–10 minutes before adding the toppings.
You can bake pizzas on a baking sheet, but if you want to ensure an extra crisp base, buy either a special pizza tin (a perforated circle of metal with a rim around the edge), or splash out on a pizza stone which does an even better job.
In all cases the critical thing is to get the oven thoroughly hot, preheated to 230°C/450°F/Gas Mark 8. To get the maximum heat bake the pizzas at the top of the oven. With two pizzas on different shelves, swap them over halfway through the cooking time, so that they both have a shot of full heat.
Makes 2 pizzas
400g (14oz) strong white bread flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 sachet (7g/1/4oz) easy-blend yeast
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 Mix the flour with the salt and yeast and make a well in the centre. Add the oil and 150ml (5fl oz) water. Start mixing, first with the blade of a palette knife or a round-ended table knife, and then with your hands. Gradually add enough extra water to make a soft, slightly sticky dough.
2 Knead for a good 5–10 minutes until smooth and elastic. Rinse the mixing bowl out and dry, then return the dough to it. Cover the bowl tightly with clingfilm and leave to rise in a warm place, until doubled in bulk.
3 Knock the dough back (literally punch it, to deflate it), then gather it all up into a ball and knead again, for a mere 3–4 minutes this time. Now the dough is ready to use. See opposite for rolling and baking instructions.
Most pizzas are smeared with a thick tomato sauce before any other toppings are added. I really do mean smeared – too much sauce makes for a soggy base, and overwhelms the rest of the ingredients. In the height of summer, when tomatoes are at their most sumptuous, they are fabulous baked raw on to the pizza base (see Pizza alla Marinara on page 82), but throughout the rest of the year, it is better to make a simple, thick sauce from canned tomatoes. This is the one I use for pizzas.
Enough for 3–4 pizzas
1 x 400g can chopped tomatoes or 300ml (10fl oz) tomato passata
2 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 bouquet garni (1 bay leaf, 2 sprigs parsley, 1 sprig thyme)
salt and pepper
1 Put all the ingredients into a small saucepan. Simmer together slowly for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until very thick. Discard the bouquet garni.
2 Taste and adjust seasoning and leave to cool.
Serves 2
1 quantity Good Pizza Dough (see page 81)
1/2 quantity Tomato Sauce for Pizza (see above)
11/2 x 150g (5oz) balls mozzarella (either di bufala, or cow’s milk), cut in half, then sliced
black pepper
extra virgin olive oil
a handful of basil leaves
1 Preheat the oven to 230°C/450°F/Gas Mark 8. Roll the dough out (see page 78) and lay on two baking sheets.
2 Smear thinly with tomato sauce, leaving a 2.5cm (1in) bare border around the edge. Divide the mozzarella between the two pizzas, grind over some black pepper and trickle a little olive oil (roughly 1–11/2 teaspoons per pizza) over each pizza.
3 Bake for approximately 15 minutes, until the edges are browned and puffed. Scatter fresh basil over each pizza and serve straightaway.
For a pizza with cured ham and olives, make as for Pizza Margherita, adding 2–3 strips of Parma ham on top of the tomato, and dotting a few black olives around the top. Instead of using basil, scatter dried oregano over the pizza before drizzling over the olive oil.
Fontina is a rich Italian cheese that melts to a creamy molten puddle. Some supermarkets sell it, but you may have to search for it at the local deli. Marinated baby artichokes are sold in glass jars and have a superb flavour. To make this pizza, prepare as for Pizza Margherita, but add around 60–85g (2–3oz) sliced fontina to each pizza and 2 marinated artichokes, cut into thin wedges. Sprinkle with oregano before drizzling with oil, and forget about the fresh basil.
From Naples, home of the pizza, comes this absolute classic. Make as for Pizza Margherita, adding half a dozen strips of tinned anchovy to each pizza and dotting each one with capers. Sprinkle with oregano before drizzling with oil. No basil.
To make a goat’s cheese and sage pizza, add 85g (3oz) goat’s cheese, rind removed, crumbled or sliced, to a Pizza Margherita as well as the mozzarella, and scatter with fresh sage leaves before drizzling with oil. A sprinkling of pine nuts makes it even more delicious. No need for basil.
For a proper Italian-style four-cheese pizza, you will need (per pizza) around 60g (2oz) each of Gorgonzola, mozzarella and fontina cheeses, diced small, as well as roughly 30g (1oz) Parmesan that has been coarsely grated.
Roll out the dough and smear with tomato sauce, as for the Pizza Margherita (see page 80). Scatter the cheeses higgledy-piggledy over the pizza, then drizzle over 1–2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil. Bake for 15 minutes as for the Pizza Margherita. Very rich, and very gorgeous.
There’s no law dictating that only this quartet of cheeses may be used. Try replacing one or more of them with, say, goat’s cheese or good Cheddar, or provolone, or…whatever takes your fancy. Choose cheeses with contrasting textures and flavours, some soft and creamy that will melt in an oozy way, others firmer and drier, some powerful and pungent, softened by milder, milkier cheese.
A pizza for the summer tomato season. Extremely simple, so every element has to be good. For two pizzas, deseed and chop 450g (1lb) very ripe tomatoes. Mix with a teaspoon of salt and tip into a sieve. Leave to drain for half an hour.
Roll out the dough, and spread the drained, raw tomato pulp over the pizza bases. Sprinkle 1 garlic clove, finely chopped or thinly sliced, as you prefer, over each pizza. Scatter with a little dried oregano, season with salt and pepper, and then drizzle generously with extra virgin olive oil. Bake as for the Pizza Margherita (see page 80). I like to add a handful of fresh basil leaves after the pizzas come out of the oven, but this is not part of the authentic Neapolitan original.
Always have a stock of rice in the cupboard. Like pasta, it keeps for ages (as long as it is stashed in an airtight container once the packet is opened) and will provide you with the basis of a main course, or a super-efficient sauce-absorbing side dish.
This is where you begin the rice journey, with a bag of a good-quality long-grain rice. This is the kind of rice that goes with a chicken stew, a curry or a stir-fry. It can be used to make a pilau (or pilaff, which is much the same thing), egg-fried rice, or to add substance to a soup. Choose either an all-purpose American long-grain white rice or, better still, wonderful basmati rice, with its curved grains and superior flavour. You may prefer to stock up on brown rice, which takes longer to cook, but is far more nutritious. It has a distinct nutty taste, and is chewier than white rice.
If you love risottos, and want to master the art of making them yourself, then you absolutely must have a bag of risotto rice of one sort or another. No other rice will produce a decent risotto. Why not? Because short-grained risotto rice has the capacity to absorb a phenomenal amount of liquid, without going mushy, and is also blessed with a considerable helping of starch, which is what gives a risotto its creamy consistency (aided and abetted, it’s true, by oodles of butter and Parmesan). The best-known risotto rice is arborio rice, but you may come across others, such as carnaroli, or my favourite, vialone nano.
Like risotto rice, pudding rice has short, stubby grains that absorb large quantities of liquid, but pudding rice softens to a fabulous tenderness, which is what makes rice pudding such divine comfort food (turn to page 217 for the recipe for an old-fashioned baked rice pudding).
Jasmine (a.k.a. Thai or fragrant) rice This is the correct rice to use as an accompaniment to Thai food. It has a distinctive scent, and is slightly sticky, so don’t expect to end up with separate clearly defined grains once cooked.
Wild rice The seeds of a grass rather than a true rice, this tastes more like a superior brown rice, and takes almost the same amount of time to cook. As the slender, brown-black grains simmer, they burst open in a rather fetching manner. Looks good mixed with long-grain white rice.
Some people love rice and will eat huge quantities of it, whilst others are noticeably more restrained. This makes judging quantities somewhat tricky. I usually allow somewhere between 60g (2 oz) and 100g (31/2 oz) per person depending on how well I know them, and how much else I am proposing to serve with the rice. It is probably best to err on the side of generosity.
There are two standard methods for cooking plain rice.
1 Bring a large pan of salted water to the boil.
2 While it heats up, tip the rice into a sieve and run under the cold tap, to remove any starch. Leave to drain.
3 Once the water has reached a rolling boil, tip in the rice, and cook until just tender (check packet for timing guidelines). Drain thoroughly.
4 If you have to hold it for a short time before eating, tip into a warm serving bowl, dot with butter (nice but not essential), cover with foil and leave in the oven, set to a low temperature, for up to 20 minutes. Fluff up the grains with a fork.
This is more complicated, but guarantees the most perfect and delicious rice, especially when cooking basmati rice (as in the photographs overleaf).
1 First measure out the volume of your rice in a measuring jug. Now tip into a sieve and run under the cold tap to remove starch. Leave to drain, preferably for a good 15 minutes.
2 Measure out double the volume of water, as you had rice. Take a heavy-based, medium pan and add just enough sunflower or vegetable oil to cover the base, but no more. Heat over a moderate heat, then tip in the rice. Stir about for some 30–60 seconds, until every grain is coated in oil, and the rice is beginning to lose its glassy look. Add the water and season with salt. Bring up to the boil, and as soon as it starts to bubble, clamp on a tight-fitting lid, and turn the heat down as low as it will go. Set the timer for 10 minutes and then ignore the pan completely. Don’t be tempted to stir.
3 As soon as the timer rings, take the pan off the heat and remove the lid. Inside you will see a flat expanse of perfectly cooked rice, pitted with little holes. Give it a stir, just to check that there isn’t a little pool of water at the bottom (there shouldn’t be, but occasionally things don’t go quite according to plan). Either drain off excess water if there is any, or return the pan to the heat, uncovered, for a few minutes.
4 Tip the rice into a warm serving dish, fluff up with a fork, and serve. If not eating immediately, keep warm as for Method One.
If you are cooking rice for a rice salad or indeed to make egg-fried rice (see page 91), use Method One on page 85. Once cooked, tip the rice into a sieve to drain, run under the cold tap, then set the sieve over the saucepan. Make half a dozen holes in the rice to allow steam to escape, then leave to finish draining and drying. When cool, transfer to a dish, cover with clingfilm and store in the fridge until needed.
Cooked rice does not have a long shelf life, especially in hot weather, so get it into the fridge as soon as it is cool. A rice salad should be eaten on the day it is made, and not left standing around in a warm room for hours. Badly stored cooked rice can deliver an unpleasant bout of food poisoning, so never ever use stored cooked rice if it smells at all funny or off.
Risotto, Italy’s greatest rice dish, comes from the north of the country, where butter dominates rather than olive oil. A real risotto has a magnificent, rich, creamy texture, formed in part by liberal application of butter and cheese, allied with the natural starchiness of risotto rice. This is not, and never can be, a dish for dieters.
Risotto rice You cannot make a risotto with anything but proper Italian risotto rice. It is a short-grained rice, stubby with an almost square cross-section. It is high in starch, which contributes to the creamy finish of a risotto, and absorbs massive amounts of liquid without collapsing. Look out for varieties like arborio (the most common), vialone nano (the finest, in my experience), and carnaroli. Store it, like any rice, in an airtight tin once the packet has been opened. Wine Most risottos contain a glassful of wine, usually white, occasionally red. This must be decent, drinkable wine. Cheapest plonk will leave a nasty taste in the rice. Stock You can make tolerable risottos with diluted stock cubes (use twice as much water as recommended), but you will need to have plenty of punchy ingredients to distract from the packet taste. To get a risotto that will make you sigh with pleasure, you must use a good home-made stock. I use chicken stock or vegetable stock most of the time (see pages 15–17). Butter Butter is used both at the beginning for frying and, perhaps even more importantly, at the end of the cooking time, where it enriches the sauce. Use a good-quality unsalted or lightly salted butter. Parmesan Freshly grated Parmesan is the second essential finishing component in most risottos. It harmonises all the other elements, and enriches the risotto at the same time. You cannot substitute lesser cheeses – they just won’t do the job properly.
Frying the rice Once the rice has been added to the pan, it needs to be stirred around over a low heat for about a minute. This ensures that each grain is coated in the buttery juices, giving it a decent send-off down the road to risottodom. Adding the stock In a risotto the liquid, usually hot stock, is added a little at a time, then stirred with the rice until it has all been absorbed or evaporated. Another ladleful of stock goes in, the stirring starts again and continues until the liquid has once again virtually disappeared. And so it goes on, stirring all the time, until the rice reaches very nearly the ideal state – just a thread less than al dente, or in other words, almost cooked to the state where it is tender but still slightly resistant to the bite. At this point, the consistency of the risotto needs to be roughly right. In some parts of northern Italy, this means pretty thick and almost gloopy, whilst in others it means much wetter, verging on soupy. Which camp you belong to is a matter of personal preference. Just add more liquid if you want it wetter, or cook for a minute or so longer to thicken it up. Incidentally, if you think this all sounds too tediously laborious, and decide to tip all the stock in at once and skip the stirring, you may end up with a pleasing enough result, but it will not develop the consistency of a true risotto. Finishing a risotto The last step is to stir in a final, generous knob of butter and a big handful of freshly grated Parmesan, then taste and adjust the seasoning. Serving Risotto must always be served as soon as it has been cooked, as it loathes hanging around. Risotto that has been kept hot soon goes mushy and gluey. Not a good thing, especially when you have just spent the last 15–20 minutes stirring it constantly.
This is a fresh and vivid summer risotto to be made with the finest small courgettes.
Serves 6 as a starter, 4 as a main course
500g (18oz) courgettes
60g (2oz) butter
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
900ml–1.2 litres (11/2–2 pints) Chicken or Vegetable Stock (see pages 15–17)
1 onion, peeled and chopped
6 thin slices pancetta, cut into narrow, short strips
225g (8oz) arborio or other Italian risotto rice
150ml (5fl oz) dry white wine
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
salt and pepper
a small handful of basil leaves
30g (1oz) Parmesan, freshly grated or shaved
1 Wash, top and tail the courgettes. Take roughly a third of them and grate coarsely. Dice the remaining courgettes.
2 Heat 15g (1/2oz) of the butter and the olive oil in a frying pan, and sauté the diced courgette over a high heat, until tender and patched with brown. Reserve.
3 Pour the stock into a pan and bring gently up to the boil, then turn the heat down as low as it will go, to keep the stock hot, but not boiling.
4 Heat a further 30g (1oz) of the butter in a wide pan over a low to moderate heat. Add the onion, grated courgette and pancetta, and fry gently until the onion is tender, without browning. Now add the rice, and stir for about 1 minute until it turns opaque. Pour in the white wine, add the parsley, season with salt and pepper, and stir until the wine has almost all evaporated.
5 Next add a ladleful of the hot stock, and keep stirring until that has been absorbed. Keep adding the stock in the same way, a ladleful at a time, until the rice is al dente. Should you run out of stock before that, just start adding hot water. At this point, the risotto should still be fairly wet and moist, but not swimming about in a lake of liquid.
6 Stir in the fried courgettes and cook for a further 1–2 minutes to heat through. Now draw the pan off the heat and stir in the basil, roughly torn up, the last of the butter and the Parmesan. Taste and adjust seasoning and serve.
This is so easy when you’ve got some leftover rice, and you can adapt it endlessly to fit whatever you have lurking in the fridge. All kinds of cooked vegetables can go into the rice, as long as they are heated through really well. For a really special version add a good handful of cooked prawns too. And of course, if you have a taste for hot things, add one (or more) chopped, deseeded red chillies to the wok with the garlic and ginger.
Don’t be tempted to season the rice in the wok with soy sauce; it just turns it a rather nasty, dirty-looking off-white which is not at all appealing. Use a little salt, and put the soy on the table for those that want it.
Serves 3–4
200g (7oz) long-grain rice
1 tablespoon sunflower or vegetable oil
1 garlic clove, peeled and chopped
1cm (1/2in) piece fresh root ginger, peeled and finely chopped
4 spring onions, chopped
1 egg, beaten
6–8 cooked shelled prawns
about 60g (2oz) cooked ham, diced
about 60g (2oz) peas and/or sweetcorn, thawed if frozen
1 tomato, deseeded (see page 8) and diced salt
1 Cook the rice in lots of salted boiling water until just tender (see page 85). Drain in a sieve. Using a chopstick, or the handle of a spoon, make half a dozen holes in the steaming rice as it sits in the sieve. Leave to cool in the sieve.
2 Prepare all the remaining ingredients and arrange them right beside the hob.
3 Heat the wok over a high flame until it begins to smoke. From now on, it’s all systems go. Add the oil, swirl around then add the garlic, ginger and half the spring onions. Stir-fry for 20 seconds.
4 Next add the beaten egg, and stir-fry and scramble for 10–20 seconds. Then quickly tip in the rice, and stir-fry, really making sure that you slide the spatula or fish slice right down under the rice, scraping all the egg from the sides of the wok.
5 Add the prawns, ham, peas (or sweetcorn) and tomato, and carry on stir-frying until everything is steamingly hot. Season with salt. Serve immediately, scattered with the remaining spring onion.