Rigatoni Die No. 98

About five years ago I wrote (here) about using a bronze pasta die designed for a restaurant pasta extruder in a Venetian hand-cranked torchio pasta press. Since writing that article, I’ve amassed fourteen bronze dies that I use to make pasta at home with my torchio. My latest die is a 13mm rigatoni (No. 98) from Emiliomiti (here).  

Oretta Zanini De Vita writes in her Encyclopedia of Pasta (2009) that rigatoni goes by a host of names throughout Italy: bombardoni; cannaroni; cannerozzi rigati; ciofelloni; gnocconi; maniche; rigatoni romani; rigatoncini; scaffittuni; scorzasellari (“celery peelers”); trivelli; and tufoloni rigati. The shape’s defining features are its tubular form and its ridges. Rigatoni’s name comes from the Italian word rigato meaning lined, striped or ruled. The shape’s ridges allow it to hold sauce better than smooth tubular shapes such as paccheri or ziti.

If dimensions interest you, The Geometry of Pasta (2010) by Caz Hildebrand and Jacob Kenedy gives rigatoni’s specs: length 1.8 inches; width 0.6 inches; and wall thickness 1mm. (Note: Emiliomiti sells a range of rigatoni dies. In addition to my No. 98, I own a No. 116 die that makes a 23mm rigatoni.) My No. 98 rigatoni die creates pasta that measures up pretty close to The Geometry of Pasta’s numbers—a tad smaller in width, but damn close on wall thickness. When using my torchio to make rigatoni with a No. 98 die, I cut after every half revolution of the torchio’s handle. This delivers two rigatoni just under 1.8 inches in length.

Most factory rigatoni consists of semolina flour and water, but I make rigatoni with an egg dough. To serve 2, I use 135 grams of Type 00 flour from Central Milling and about 69 to 72 grams of an egg mixture made with a whole egg and an egg yolk. I say “about” because I play around with the amount of liquid depending on how dry I want the dough. Less liquid produces a sandy mixture closer to what one uses to make a commercial extruded semolina and water dough. A hand-cranked torchio needs a dough with a higher percentage of moisture than a typical factory-extruded dough. Without this extra liquid, the torchio becomes really hard to turn by hand and the dough extrudes unevenly from the die (even after a hydration period). I aim for a dough that gives the finished pasta a rough, bronze die-finish, but that evenly extrudes without an excessive amount of force.

So after making rigatoni with a No. 98 bronze die, how do you dress it? A handful of sauces traditionally pair with rigatoni. If you’re a staunch traditionalist from Rome, consider making Rigatoni con la pajata (Rigatoni with veal intestines). Popes, Peasants, and Shepherds: Recipes and Lore from Rome and Lazio (2013) by Oretta Zanini De Vita and La Pasta (2010) published by Slow Food Editore both have a recipe for this classic Roman dish. Zanini De Vita writes that pajata “is the Roman name for the first section of the intestine of the milk-fed calf, used with its chyme. Today it is difficult to find, and lamb intestine is used instead of calf. Its flavor, however, is much stronger.” If finding pajata is difficult to find in Lazio, good luck finding it here in United States (if available at all).

Many other sauces traditionally compliment rigatoni. For pork lovers, try Rigatoni alla gricia made with guanciale (cured pork jowl) and pecorino cheese. Add tomatoes and onions to this sauce and you have a version of Rigatoni all’Amatriciana. Rigatoni alla carbonara is another delicious classic (again, made with guanciale or pancetta). Rigatoni can pretty much handle any hearty sauce that meets your fancy.

Parsley Salsa Verde

Last month I shared my picks for the five best cookbooks of 2015 (here). Like many cookbook commentators and critics, I really liked Travis Jett’s Gjelina, and the book made my “Best Of” list. From cover-to-cover, Jett’s cookbook offers tempting recipes for straightforward, bold food.

One of my favorite chapters in Gjelina is Condiments and Pickles. Lett shares his take on classics such as charmoula, gremolata, chimichurri and harissa. I particularly like his Parsley Salsa Verde, which is easy to make from ingredients readily available year round. Although many salsa verde recipes include mustard and/or egg, Lett keeps his version of this Italian sauce simple with grated lemon zest and red pepper flakes adding zing. He writes that the sauce “brings a lovely herbaceous briny note to things like grilled squid, grilled eggplant, and wood-roasted sunchokes.” I think it tastes really good with Roast Chicken (here). Lett’s recipe makes 1 cup / 210 grams.

3/4 cup [20 g] chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

10 anchovy fillets, rinsed and chopped

1 Tbsp capers, rinsed and chopped

1 tsp finely grated lemon zest

Pinch of crushed pepper flakes

1 garlic clove

2/3 cup [160 ml] extra-virgin olive oil

Kosher salt

1 Tbsp red wine vinegar

In a small bowl, combine the parsley, anchovies, capers, lemon zest, and red pepper flakes. Using a Microplane grater, grate the garlic into the mixture, add the olive oil, stir to combine, and season with salt. Allow to stand at room temperature for about 20 minutes.

Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 3 days. Bring to room temperature, and stir in the vinegar just before serving.

Lett writes that “[a]s for most herb-based sauces, it’s a good idea to make the base ahead of time and then spike it with vinegar just before using to avoid oxidation.” If you want to mix things up, you can substitute basil for half of the chopped parsley to make a basil salsa verde. When my so-called Roman mint (calamintha nepeta) comes this this year, I’m adding some to the mix.

A quick note. I used 4 large salt-packed anchovies the first time I made this green sauce. I then tried the recipe with 10 oil-packed fillets. I prefer the salt-packed version because, to my taste, it has a better briny flavor. But give both versions a try and see what you like best.

Orecchiette Revisited

This post explores an intriguing method to create the semolina dough used to make handmade orecchiette, one of my favorite pasta shapes to form and to eat. With autumn here and winter fast approaching, the shorter days affect the availability of local farm eggs that I use to make fresh egg pasta. So when hens lay fewer eggs, I make more pasta with semolina and water.

A year or so after writing about making orecchiette (here), I came across a 2013 article in Sunset magazine that described Samin Nosrat’s technique for making orecchiette. Nosrat teaches cooking classes in the San Francisco Bay Area and is working on a new cookbook entitled Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat: The Four Elements of Good Cooking (Simon & Schuster, 2016). Her method for making semolina pasta dough intrigued me. Here’s her approach, paraphrased.

Add 4 cups of fine semolina flour to the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with a paddle attachment. Turn the mixer on to its lowest setting and slowly drizzle ½ cup of warm water (105º-115ºF) into the flour. Mix for 2 minutes then turn off the mixer and let the flour and water rest in the mixing bowl for 15 minutes. Turn the mixer back on to low and slowly drizzles in another ½ cup of warm water and mix for 5 to 6 minutes. Turn off the mixer and allow the flour and water to rest for another 15 minutes. Turn the mixer back on low and now add ¼ cup of warm water to the dough and mix for another 5 minutes followed by another 15-minute rest. Finally, add 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon of extra-virgin olive oil and slowly mix the dough until it “starts coming together in little balls, climbing sides of bowl, and is moist and firm like Play-Doh.” The reason for this process? Rosrat writes: “You want the flour to absorb the water for as long as possible before adding the oil, since fat inhibits gluten development.” Press the dough into an 1-inch thick disc, wrap it in plastic and let it rest at room temperature for 30 minutes. This process makes enough dough for 6 to 8 servings of orecchiette.

I made Nosrat’s dough using Central Milling organic semolina and it turned out great. If you have a problem making a semolina and water dough, which can be tricky, try Nosrat’s recipe. Her approach takes time, but it’s practically foolproof.

After following Nosrat’s recipe a few times, I began to play around with it. I scaled it down to serve 2 and eliminated the olive oil—a rarity in semolina and water pasta dough—thus reducing the need for 3 fifteen-minute hydration periods. I found that using the same set-up (i.e., a standing mixer set on low fitted with a paddle), you can make an excellent small batch of orecchiette dough in much less time. As Nosrat points out, the key is to very slowly drizzle the warm water into the fine semolina flour. To make enough dough to serve 2, I use 150 grams of Central Milling organic semolina and 68 grams of 115ºF water. The process, from the first slow drizzle to mixed dough takes me about 6 minutes or so. Then I wrap the dough in plastic and let it rest at room temperature for 30 minutes. The orecchiette from this pasta dough tastes wonderfully chewy and delicious.