Making pasta is the labor of love I hold dearest in the kitchen. I find joy in making a mess of flour and eggs on my board, strength in kneading the dough until it’s soft and developed, focus in rolling out the sheets, and magic in creating the shapes. So much less about the end product, making pasta is about the humble culinary journey; like anything made from grains, pasta is ultimately a vehicle for its accoutrements, so creativity in sauces and shapes abound and you never run out of things to learn.
Despite my romantic waxings, pasta is a thing that I rarely eat. I like to fill my tum with things that will fuel me well, and I’m no marathoner (despite my best efforts to find the elusive runners high…two halves later and I’m still pretty sure y’all are just makin’ shit up). When I do make pasta I make it colorful, keep the sauce light (alfredo is a G but our philosophies don’t mix),ensure that I have people to share it with, and hunt down a solid bottle of wine for the occasion.
My brother hooked ya girl up with a pasta extruder for Christmas and I’ve been chomping at the bit to try it while waiting for inspiration to strike. For whatever reason, I never want to christen a kitchen tool with a mundane task, so I’ve been mulling over a rigatoni dish for a spell, channeling my pasta-punk friend Shane Thomas’ flow, dreaming up something wintry that won’t send guests clamoring for a spot on the couch. If you’ve already got a kitchenaid and the extruder attachment, good on you and definitely give this dish a go! If you don’t, aint no shame in that boxed game, but sign up for a pasta class in your area (aka call me if you’re reppin’ that NY Metro life), and discover how meditative the art of pasta is, and how satisfying the result. I promise you it’s better than a green juice after yoga, and I’ll happily coordinate a spin-date with you the morning after!