Fettuccine Alfredo a.k.a. Pasta al Burro

THE STORY

This creamy white-sauced pasta-pile should be familiar to you, a warm little nest of noodles to lose yourself in. Familial even. Have you ever eaten Fettuccine Alfredo out at a restaurant, or from home made by your mother using a roux sauce with over a cup of flour in it? How authentic!

Things are not always what they seem. First off, it is with regret that I inform you that the name "Fettuccine Alfredo" is the flag of a usurper, a restaurateur in 20th Rome who called himself the Knight of Pasta, and capitalized off a recipe no one would claim.

All he did was mix butter, fettuccine, and freshly grated Parmesan cheese with his golden spoon and fork, and the world adored him for it and gave it his name. Could it really be that good? Anyway, it had already had many names.

Because what lies underneath is an old Italian peasant dish that really has no inventor, commonly referred to as pasta al burro. Passed down from time immemorial from cook to cook. Or else invented yesterday, who knows? Ubiquitous for its simplicity. And now passed to me by pure instinct? or through the power of books and internet videos? Did it come to me in a dream?

In any case, I feel deeply it was passed down to me from beyond time. Read about it somewhere. Under names like maccaroni romaneschi it is attested in medieval and renaissance cookbooks from Italy. And it should NEVER use a roux and cream. Let's go back in time. That's how things are passed on.

Things are not always what they seem. It can also be called pasta dei cornuti, cuckolds' pasta. Said in Italian culinary folklore to be the dish of the duped husband, made by ladies so busy with the coming and going of lovers in and out of the house, that they had no time to do anything but throw together some pasta, butter, and cheese when their husbands got home from work at night. We'll see how we feel about this being a "quick" dish later.

So now the tables have turned. My wife is out working late, and I'm off on Tuesday with plenty of time on my hands to read, write, cook. She hasn't been too happy lately, with overload of work and courses to teach, papers to grade. Over 60,000 essays in a weekend to get through. Feeling flustered, and having dark thoughts, drinking maybe too much on her time off to cut the nerves that backlogged work and personal issues inflame.

So even though it will be after ten o'clock that she returns, I will make sure it is ready when she walks in the door. Sometimes a delicious meal and those moments together that are so hard to find time for during the weekdays come together in the nourishing and healing process that is dinner, however late.

It is simply, pasta, butter, cheese, and a little of the water the pasta was cooked in. Sounds easy. So let go of your creamed-up preconceptions and let's get started.

THE RECIPE

You must gather these essential ingredients, and be sure they are of the best quality. Since it's just a few ingredients, don't skimp.

1. 1 cup of finely milled semolina flour
2. 1 cup of '00 grade flour (very fine and soft white flour). Or all-purpose.
3. 4-5 eggs
4. 1 tablespoon of oil
5. 1 stick of butter at room temperature
6. 1 1/2 cups grated Parmesan cheese (the real stuff, and grate it yourself. Packaged grated cheeses have caking agents that will affect the consistency of the magic sauce.)
7. For topping: either finely minced basil to be Modern, or a sprinkle of powdered cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg if you want to go Medieval.

Following this step-by-step process, you should not walk astray of the pasta path. Although it does take coordination to do it by hand, so practice makes perfect.

• In a large mixing bowl, put together the flour semolina and salt, stir until evenly mixed.

• Form a cradle in the flour.
• Break 5 eggs into the flour in the middle of the cradle.

• Add 1 tablespoon of olive oil to the egg in the center.
• Mix with a spatula/hands until a very stiff dough is formed, adding all-purpose flour or a little water/oil as needed.

• Cover/seal dough and let rest in a cool dry place for a half hour.

• In the meantime, set aside a stick of butter, grate your Parmesan cheese and set aside in a bowl.

• Prepare either a very large cutting board or counter-top of marble/metal. This will take some space. Cover generously with flour.
• Now you need your rolling pin and pastry cutter. Cut the dough ball into two or more even pieces.

• Take one, and roll in on the board/counter into as flat and square a sheet as possible, continuing to turn over and re-flour the surface and top of the dough sheet as often as needed.

• Flour the top of the dough sheet excessively, sadistically: or it will stick when you

• Fold the floured pastry sheet upon itself 3 or four times to form a tube and

• Cut it evenly along desired noodle-width.

• Unfold the noodles and lay them all flour-drenched as they are on a board.

• Heat the pasta water, the noodles can have a rest. They've been through a lot, and so have you.
• Finely mince or chiffonade your basil. Or whatever. Otherwise get ready your cinnamon and nutmeg.
• Cook the pasta (don't shake off the flour coating) in the water to al dente. Should only take a few minutes with fresh pasta.

• When cooked, make sure to keep and set aside a cup of gooey pasta water. Drain the pasta.

• Return the pasta to the pot it was cooked in, with the whole stick of room-temp butter cut into 5 or 6 pieces. Toss quickly until melted.
• Begin tossing in the finely grated cheese, alternating with a douse of pasta water to add gluten and fluid. Continue tossing, adding cheese and splashes of pasta water until the sauce forms: perfectly smooth with no clumping or stringing, clinging to the noodles but not dripping off or sinking to the bottom of the pan.

• Serve immediately, with a sprinkle of the remaining grated cheese and the herbs or spices.

THE AFFIRMATION

What is passed on is passed down, a classic revised, or return to roots? Once you taste the simplicity and frankness of how this comes off on the palette, you'll never want the heaviness of a roux and cream Alfredo sauce taxing your stomach again. Every gesture in the cooking of this is that same simplicity and frankness. It is a world in itself.

Do not eat this if you don't enjoy the taste of Parmesan cheese, because it is the primary flavor. Do not add salt to this, as it is carried by the cheese. I have tried doing a quick version, everything the same but with store-bought pasta, and the principle of the sauce works whatever noodle is used. Of course homemade will be the extra something. The pasta could be made ahead of time and either frozen or dried, which makes this a much quicker "throw together" for the busy comings and goings of life, and can still be homemade.

My mother said her Nonna from the south of Italy used to make pasta the exact same way I do, on the counter with the pastry knife, folded over and cut. I tried to explain to her that that's a pretty common technique of noodle-cutting all over Europe and Asia, and that I'd read up on it and studied videos online of cooks demonstrating. She insisted it was in the blood. Who disputes their mother? (don't answer that.)

Passed down to me somehow, and now indeed passed on by me to my wife, who is hungry and tired after work tonight. Still with the same problems, I suppose food never can fix that. The time passed together can make it worth it, gathering physical reserves against the next day. She has had this same dish made by me before. Tonight I hope to outdo each time before, just as I seek to do in my writing. We'll see how it comes out.

It should be passed on to any of you scholarly cooks out there who feel up to the task of this maccaroni romaneschi, or pasta al burro, or pasta di cornuto, or Fettuccine Alfredo; the first lesson is to stop trying to label it, it is beyond our labeling! Just leave out the cream and the roux.

I can't explain to you the warm feeling of nostalgia and yet newness you'll feel in every unctuous bite. Unless you hate pasta of course. Then avoid this recipe like the plague. Otherwise, that's how basic noodles can be made by hand. It is an art to pass down.

If you don't feel up to making your own noodles, try this trick with the best store-bought pasta you can find. Share in the experience.

If you're feeling adventurous, a Medieval Cinnamon Meat Stew to delight your guests: