pastina

My daughter sat in her wooden high chair. At eight months old, she was already my constant kitchen companion: perpetually interested in the smells and sounds coming from stovetop and oven. Her eyes followed me as I finished cooking pastina, the simple pasta dish that was my own childhood favorite. I cracked an egg, caught the yolk in my hand, and placed it in a small bowl along with steaming star-shaped pasta. I stirred in butter and salt, then walked over to my patient little girl.

I hadn’t made my grandmother’s recipe in years. The last time was a lonely Sunday night when I longed for the comfort of being a small child in her quirky kitchen. Most of my earliest food memories surrounded her: the smells of pasta cooking, eggs frying, pies baking. Colorful antique tins lined the shelves, along with glass jars of pasta. I loved sitting at my grandmother’s kitchen table and staring at an oil painting of a mysterious and beautiful dark-haired woman while I ate. Pastina was the dish she most often served to the grandchildren; good for breakfast (with extra yolks), a quick lunch, or reheated leftovers for dinner.

I missed my grandmother. I enjoyed the special bond of being the first-born grandchild, and since the birth of my daughter, I often thought of our times together. We grew flowers from seeds, talked about her Depression-era childhood, and most of all - we cooked. Now separated by many miles, we rarely saw each other. Since my daughter's birth, I often found myself thinking back to the times I sat in her kitchen as she told tales of her childhood while cooking for the family.

I blew on the pastina and walked over to my daughter. Baby patience gone; she was now beating against the high chair with a spoon. Was there ever a doubt that she would devour this food, full of memories, carbohydrates, and mother-love? Bowl scraped clean, she hand signaling for “more.” When it came time for thirds, she eyed my own bowl and made the “more” sign once again. I went to give her what was left, hesitating my own spoon on its way to her tender, rosebud lips. I had doctored my serving up in a way that my grandmother never would: a bit more parmesan and a lot of crushed red pepper. I recently listened to an NPR piece on the diet of the children of Sichuan China. The average 2 year old there could handle the culinary heat of an American adult. So why not raise my own little heat-seeker? I spooned some of the spicy pastina in her mouth and watched as her eyes went wide. She sat still for a few seconds. Then my daughter once again signed for “more.” I pulled her out of her high chair, sat her on my lap, and shared the rest of the pastina. Content and warm in the kitchen together, just as I once was with my grandmother.

serves 2

6 ounces (about half the box) of stelline (star-shaped) pastina
1 egg yolk
1 1/2 tablespoons of butter
1 1/2 tablespoons of Parmesan cheese (optional)

Cook the pastina according to the package directions. Once it is cooked, return the pastina to it's pot and immediately add the butter and egg yolk. Stir until both are completely incorporated into the dish (the heat from the pasta will cook the egg). Add the cheese if desired.

If this sounds good but you don't have to cook for kids, try Cacio e Pepe instead. Literally meaning "cheese and pepper" it is sort a grown-up version of this dish. Most versions don't include egg, but I love the extra creaminess that it adds to the dish.

Cacio e Pepe

serves 4-6

1 pound spaghetti
2 egg yolks
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 1/2 cups Pecorino Romano cheese (you can substitute Parmesan)
2 tablespoons freshly ground black pepper
salt to taste

Cook spaghetti according to package directions.

While the pasta is cooking, combine the rest of the ingredients in a large bowl and stir until combined. Add spaghetti as soon as it is done cooking, reserve the cooking water. Stir the pasta until the sauce is absorbed. You will probably need to add at least 1/2 cup to the pasta, just enough to create a creamy sauce.

Plate the pasta and serve with additional cheese and pepper if desired.