Pasta

This Italian-style pasta dough makes golden noodles that have a great silky texture. It is wonderful cut into noodles or used to make ravioli. A simple pan sauté is all you need to finish the pasta. Who needs bottled pasta sauce? Depending on the season, we like cherry tomatoes with artichoke hearts and basil, wild mushrooms with thyme, zucchini with fresh garlic, or sweet corn with green onions and cayenne. Once the vegetables are cooked, the hot pasta is added to the pan and tossed with a few spoonfuls of the pasta cooking water to make a delicious and flavorful sauce. A little freshly grated cheese and perhaps a touch of freshly ground pepper, and you’re ready to eat.

We love potato chips. We use them in a variety of preparations, from stuffings to ice cream, so making the leap to pasta dough wasn’t as crazy as it may sound. After all, potato chips go with almost anything. Think of all those dips. Although we originally tried to make this with actual potato chips, the dough was too greasy. Using toasted, ground potato flakes gives it that nutty flavor without the added fat. The potato flakes, sometimes labeled “instant mashed potatoes,” are easily found in the supermarket. It doesn’t take much effort to toast the flakes and grind them into flour, and the results will make you feel like a kid again. The dough can be cut into noodles or used to make ravioli. The potato chip pasta is delicious tossed with brown butter, parsley, and lemon, perhaps served alongside soft-shell crabs or sweet Maine lobster.

Miso has become a common ingredient in the supermarket. It is a fermented soybean paste that is traditionally seasoned with salt and koji, which are grains, usually rice, fermented with Aspergillus oryzae molds. Miso is classified by color (white or blond, red or brown), flavor (sweet or salty), and ingredients (barley, soybean). In this pasta dough we like the delicate taste of blond miso, which is fermented with a high percentage of rice koji. It is the sweetest and mildest of the miso varieties and adds a savory depth of flavor with a lighter touch than a darker miso. Traditionally, flavored noodles are often served simply buttered, as they are in this recipe. Chopped sautéed watercress, freshly cooked clams, sautéed ground pork, braised baby radishes, or pan-seared calamari would all complement this pasta and create a satisfying meal.

Spaetzle is a German word meaning “little sparrow,” an evocative description of these small dumplings that have a long, irregular shape. Traditionally, they are boiled, tossed with butter, and served alongside rich, saucy dishes. We like to fry spaetzle in butter because it gives them a delicate crispy edge to contrast their tender texture. They are a nice change of pace from traditional starches like potatoes and pasta. The sourdough spaetzle’s light texture and tangy flavor are equally at home with meat or fish; they can be tossed with fresh peas or fava beans and finished with tarragon, sautéed with wild mushrooms, or combined with bite-size ratatouille for an interesting twist on a classic. Use them in place of rice or small pastas in your favorite preparations and you’ll see what a difference they can make.

This pasta dough has a wonderful texture with a bit of chew and snap. It is great served simply with butter and cheese, or it can be a vehicle for shrimp and asparagus, crabmeat and spinach, crème fraîche and caviar. It is decadent with classic carbonara sauce and can be used to mimic the flavor of bacon for vegetarian preparations.

Mathias Laurent, the cook in his family, makes this simple dish for his children in his sleek kitchen. With leftovers, he adds lots of Comté cheese. You can use any grated cheese you like.

When I met Lionel Barrieu, practically the only Jew living in Auch, a small town in the sparsely inhabited department of Gers, in the southwest of France, I thought he was an ordinary Jewish policeman. But as his story unfolded, his saga became more complicated. Lionel, who also goes by his Hebrew name, Ariel, is the grandson of a Roman Catholic Paris-born police inspector. When the Germans took over Paris in 1940, the other policemen encouraged his grandfather to help round up the Jews living in the capital. As Lionel tells the story, his grandfather smelled a rat and, not wanting to be part of this witch hunt, went underground. Lionel, in his early forties, followed in his grandfather’s footsteps, going to the police academy while also studying theology, Greek, and Latin at the University of Strasbourg. “When I discovered the biblical texts in Hebrew and French,” he told me in his office, “I realized the two Bibles were different. The Hebrew was richer and more spiritual.” After moving to Auch, he converted to Judaism with the help of the rabbi in Toulouse, about one and a half hours away, even getting circumcised at the age of thirty-nine. Today Lionel leads a Jewish life with his wife, also a police officer, who does not follow his religious practices. “I go to buy kosher meat at a little store in Toulouse,” he told me. “I feel as if I can now respect the animal.” For the Jewish Sabbath every week, which he observes, Lionel makes challah. He used to bake it on Friday, during his lunch hour, but too many police emergencies disturbed his bread-making. Now, to be extra careful, he makes it on Thursday evening, after work. One of the dishes that he missed most after taking on the obligation of keeping kosher was his meat lasagna. To satisfy his craving, he created this version, using soy milk instead of cow’s milk in the béchamel sauce. It is hearty and rich, and can fool almost anyone.

Bottarga, dried mullet roe, is absolutely delicious grated and sliced in thin strips in this simple spaghetti dish with harissa and tiny Tunisian beldi (meaning traditionally produced) preserved lemons. Marc Berrebi, an entrepreneur and food hobbyist who makes this dish that originated in his native Tunisia but is influenced by Italy, says, “It is interesting to taste the melding of three strong ingredients: preserved lemon, harissa, and bottarga in small quantities.” Bottarga is also available at bottarga.net or koskas-fils.com.

When Suzon Meymy rubs the grains of ready-made couscous between her fingers to separate them, she thinks about her mother, the couscous-maker of Mogador. Unlike Suzon, her mother prepared couscous from scratch. First she would take a kilo or so of coarse semolina, moisten it with a little water, and carefully separate the grains. Then she would rake the fingers of her right hand through the semolina in sweeping circular movements, creating the tiny pellets of couscous. She would rub them against the weave of a fine basket to shape them, and they were then laid out to dry. Afterward, she would pass the couscous several times through a wood-handled sieve to obtain granules of uniform size. Finally, she would steam the couscous twice in a couscoussier, a special pot similar to a doublelevel steamer, which was filled with different kinds of hearty meat-and-vegetable stews. Today, with the availability of presteamed “instant” couscous, the process is much easier. Even so, Suzon mimics the gestures she learned from her mother, rubbing her fingers through the grains. Each time she makes this dish, it is a return to her childhood, her family, and a life that is no more in a small coastal town in Morocco. Although with instant couscous you really don’t need to steam the couscous, I still do, to fluff it up and make it lighter. If you do not have a couscoussier, use a regular stockpot with a vegetable steamer. If the holes are too big, simply line the steamer with cheesecloth to prevent the couscous grains from falling through.

This couscous dish, originally made especially by Moroccans at the Maimouna, a post-Passover celebration, has become pan–North African in France now that Tunisians and Algerians are preparing it. They also make this dish, using butter and accompanying it with yogurt, at Shavuot, a late-spring holiday celebrating the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai and the abundance of milk in the springtime. Sweet couscous can be made with either couscous or rice, although I prefer the texture of the couscous with the raisins and nuts.

For Claude Lelouch and other French Jews from North Africa, couscous (a term that refers both to the stew and to the grain) is comfort food. When Suzon Meymy started cooking as a young bride living in Paris, her native Morocco seemed terribly far away, so she wrote to her mother, asking for recipes. “My mother was so unhappy that I was in France, so she sent me cooked chicken and flans. What she didn’t know was that they didn’t travel well, so we couldn’t eat them when they arrived.” When Suzon cooks lamb couscous today, in her small apartment in a Paris suburb, she uses her mother’s techniques. “My mother, who was the couscous-maker of Mogador, spent all her time in the kitchen,” she told me. “I watched her and my sisters cook for every festival in our town. They were exhausted from so much cooking. I saw them falling apart with fatigue.” Suzon, a very good cook, takes the time to make this lamb stew only when her whole family is present. What I like about this amazing recipe for couscous is that the vegetables are not overcooked. Serve the lamb with couscous (see page 270) and a delicious Moroccan squash dish (see page 302)

In her modern kitchen, with its sleek mauve cabinets and red-and-purple tiles, Annie Berrebi showed me how to make this landmark dish. The stew can be prepped in advance and finished with a few minutes of simmering. Annie often freezes leftover grains of cooked couscous and then pops them into the microwave before using. Unlike Moroccan Jews, who serve their food in courses as the French do, the Berrebis serve everything at once (couscous, salads, and hot sauce). During this absolutely delicious meal, Annie told me, “I miss the sun in Tunis. But I love Paris. We have made our lives here.” You can either serve the couscous, fish balls, and vegetables on different plates, as Mrs. Berrebi does, or, if you want to make a big splash, as I like to do when presenting such a grand dish, pile the couscous in a pyramid on a big serving platter, then arrange the fish balls and the vegetables around it. Ladle the broth all over, and garnish with the cilantro. Pour some extra harissa into a little bowl, and put that on the table alongside cooked salads such as carrot salad (see page 112) or a tomato salad.

The commercial varieties of couscous we get in the U.S.A. are industrially precooked and instant. They are the “medium”-sized granules, which are best for ordinary couscous dishes. A “fine” size is used for the sweet couscous seffa that you will find in the dessert chapter (page 422), but the “medium” will also do. I visited a couscous factory in Sfax during an Oldways International Symposium in 1993 which took us on a fabulous gastronomic tour of Tunisia. We were received with welcoming banners, and offered a tasting of dozens of sumptuous couscous dishes—both savory and sweet—and a demonstration by women in Berber dress of the old ancestral ways of rolling couscous by hand. When the owner of the factory showed me around the plant, I asked him what the best way to use his product was, since packages sold abroad gave different instructions. He said that, although steaming is a ritual and part of the culture of North Africa, which the people are used to and hold on to (they steam everything, including vermicelli and rice), you could just as well add water and heat up the precooked couscous in the oven or a microwave. I know from hearing home cooks complain about their failures trying to steam precooked couscous that you are more likely to have success by simply heating it up in the oven, for example. I want couscous to be easy and trouble-free, so that people will adopt it. Couscous should be the easiest thing for you to make, but there is an art, even with the instant variety, to achieving a light, airy, separate, and digestible grain. Follow the instructions below for an easy way of preparing quick-cooking couscous in the oven and you will get good results.

The traditional method of cooking couscous (the “real thing,” not the quick cooking variety) is by steaming over a watery stew or over water. The method calls for delicate handling. Bad handling will result in a lumpy and rather stodgy couscous.

Fine-grained sweet couscous, called seffa in Morocco and mesfouf in Tunisia, is served hot, accompanied by cold milk or buttermilk. I like to eat it for breakfast. There are many versions. Dried fruit such as dates and raisins, and nuts such as almonds, walnuts, and pistachios, can be added, and the grain can be flavored with orange-blossom water or with cinnamon, honey, or sugar. A particularly wonderful version is with fresh grapes. The most common, seffa be zbib, is with large black or golden raisins. Seffa be tamr is with dates and walnut halves. There is also one with pomegranate seeds. Here is a basic seffa/mesfouf followed by possible garnishes. Serve it in bowls and pass round a jug of hot milk to pour over.

Vermicelli broken into 1-inch pieces, or pasta which looks like large grains of rice, called lissan al assfour or “bird’s tongues,” and orzo in the U.S., is used. Both of these types of pasta were made at home by rolling the dough between two fingers, but now they are available commercially. In Egypt it is a breakfast dish, served sprinkled with nuts and raisins. Chopped bananas are sometimes also added. The pasta is usually fried until it is golden brown and then boiled. In North Africa, where they steam the pasta without first frying it, it is served as a dessert. The mastic must be pounded or ground to a powder with a pinch of sugar.

This is a meat stew with pasta. I am assured that it only tastes right if small Italian pasta called “orzo,” which look like tiny bird’s tongues or largish grains of rice, are used. In Egypt, families used to make the pasta themselves with flour and water, rolling tiny bits of dough into little ovals between their fingers. A friend recalls spending hours doing this with her brother every Sunday as a small child.

This Armenian specialty makes a hearty main dish. It has a pure and fresh quality and is an entirely different experience from eating an Italian or Asian pasta dish.

A large amount of fried onions makes this refreshing Syrian pasta particularly tasty.