From the Sept., 2007 Fine Cooking (click here to view the recipe)

In the last few weeks I’ve begun to notice a subtle shift in peoples’ attitude towards the summer. Gone is the air of anticipation that was everywhere in May and June. So, too, is the vibe of communal celebration that marked the month of July, when people across the city seemed to be gathering at outdoor cafes until the wee hours reveling in the long days and warm nights, or racing out of the office early to catch a train for a three- or four-day weekend somewhere. No, that sense of collective excitement has clearly burned away, leaving in its place something a little more, well, resigned—resigned that the season of fun and freedom is quickly winding down, to be replaced by one of renewed commitments, and responsibilities, and scheduling. In fact, just yesterday someone asked me, “How was your summer?” Was my summer?! I quickly reminded him (and myself) that it wasn’t over just yet, that there are still some warm nights and long weekends to be enjoyed. All the same, I can’t deny that I, too, hear that end-of-summer drumbeat.

Which in its way makes this week’s posting for linguine and clam sauce all the more timely. After all, there are few things that offer a greater concentration of summer-y flavors than this simple pasta dish. Of course, unlike anything made with sweet corn or heirloom tomatoes, it’s a meal that can be enjoyed more or less year-round, but for me there’s something about the briney, garlicky combo here that makes this especially right when the weather gets warm. Come July, it’s a dish I start to crave.

That said I should probably acknowledge that there are those who still hold to the rule that shellfish should only be eaten during those months with an “R” in their name—which is to say, never from May through August, the very period we’re focused on. Obviously it’s a dictum I don’t follow (nor, I might add, do any of the other folks lining up for fried oysters or clam-bakes this time of year), largely because the toxicity concerns associated with this period are pretty much absent these days if you’re purchasing from a reputable fishmonger. (If you’re harvesting yourself, however, beware of toxic blooms in your area.)

So assuming I haven’t scared you away with all that, let me bring to your attention what in my estimation is a quite wonderful, not to mention easy, version of this classic dish. It’s one I pulled out of a back issue of Fine Cooking, and no doubt it’s the recipe’s traditional, by-the-book quality that drew me to it in the first place, as it reminded me of the dish my dad would invariably order when I was a kid and we’d have one of our occasional family dinners at his favorite red sauce establishment in South Philadelphia. I wasn’t so interested in clam sauce in those days (if memory serves, lasagna and garlic bread were my two fixations back then), but the smell of the garlic and white wine-infused broth seems nonetheless to have made a lasting impression on my brain, since any close approximation of that restaurant’s preparation tends to take me right back to those long ago family meals. This recipe does just that, while also improving on my earlier experience of the dish in one, key way: the clams are removed from their shells prior to being tossed with the pasta. It’s a change that, for some, may detract from the dish’s overall plate appeal, but that makes for an infinitely, and undeniably, more pleasant eating experience, as well.

To start, heat half of the olive oil along with the red pepper flakes in a three-quart saucepan for 20 seconds or so—just long enough for the flavor of the flakes to infuse the oil. Next add the wine, two tablespoons of the chopped parsley, and half of the minced garlic, and cook for another 20 seconds, a period during which your kitchen will start to smell about as mouth-wateringly delicious as you can imagine, since there are few fragrances more intoxicating than those of the above ingredients as they’re exposed heat. This is just the beginning, however, as the clams—the dish’s star ingredient, after all—are next up. It’s an addition that infuses the sauce with its all-important briny quality, and one that proves the perfect counterpoint to the various other dominant flavors at play here—namely the wine, the garlic, and the parsley. So after thoroughly scrubbing the mollusks in cold water (skip this step and you risk a mouthful of sand and other grit) it’s time to introduce them to the wine mixture.

Since the point here is to steam the clams, once they’ve been added to the pot you’ll want to keep them covered, checking every few minutes for any that have opened, and removing these to a separate dish (it can take as long as six minutes for all of the clams to open; if any don’t by that point, throw them away—they’re no good.) Once all the clams are steamed, set the broth aside and remove the mollusks from their shells, cutting the meat in half or even fourths if they’re very large. The sliced clams can then be returned to the broth (along with any juices that may have accumulated on your cutting board—this is good stuff!), and the shells discarded.

Two more simple steps to go: the first is to add your pasta (I prefer linguine but angel hair will also work) to a large pot of salted water, then letting it cook to the point where it’s tender but still offers a little give when you bite into it. For the linguine this can take anywhere between six and nine minutes, though it’s much shorter for angel hair. Either way, be sure not to overcook, as the noodles will be exposed to some additional cooking in the final moments of preparation, and you’ll want the final product to retain some of its firmness (otherwise known as “al dente,” a quality whose importance can’t be overstressed). Once done, be sure to hold on to a ¼ cup of the pasta broth before draining—you may not need this (I didn’t) but if the final mixture of pasta and clam sauce seems too dry for your taste, you can always use a little of this to loosen things up.

The other step, and this can be started while the pasta is underway, involves first heating the remaining olive oil in a large (ten- or twelve-inch) skillet, then sautéing the rest of the garlic and chopped parsley for a minute or so, or until the garlic is just soft. Set this mixture aside until the pasta is ready, at which point the noodles, along with the clam mixture, can be added to the garlic/parsley combo. Toss all this over low heat for a minute or so (that final cooking stage I mentioned earlier), add a little salt and pepper as needed, throw in a bit of that reserved pasta water if you think it’s called for, and you’re good to go. It’s a concentrated shot of summer during these waning warm months, not to mention an effective reminder of their laid back attitude when the cold weather sets in.

Ingredients:
—24 littleneck clams
—6 tbs extra-virgin olive oil
—1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
—1/3 cup dry white wine
—5 tbs finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley, plus a few whole leaves for garnish
—3 large cloves garlic, minced
—Kosher salt
—8 oz linguini or spaghettini
—Freshly ground black pepper

Directions:
—Scrub the clams under cold water and set aside. In a heavy 3-qt saucepan, heat 3 tbs of the oil over medium heat. Add the pepper flakes and cook briefly to infuse the oil, about 20 seconds. Immediately add the wine, 2 tbs of the chopped parsley, and half of the minced garlic. Cook for 20 seconds and add the clams.
—Cover and cook over medium-high heat, checking every 2 minutes and removing each clam as it opens. It will take 5 to 6 minutes total for all the clams to open. Transfer the clams to a cutting board and reserve the broth. Remove the clams from the shells and cut them in half, or quarters if they’re large. Return the clams to the broth. Discard the shells.
—Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil over high heat. Add the pasta and cook until it’s almost al dente, 6 to 9 minutes. Don’t overcook.
—While the pasta is cooking, heat the remaining 3 tbs olive oil in a 10- or 12-inch skillet over medium heat. Add the remaining 3 tbs chopped parsley and the rest of the garlic and cook until the garlic is just soft, about 1 minute. Set the skillet aside.
—When the pasta is done, reserve about ¼ cup of the pasta cooking water and then drain the pasta. Add the pasta, the clams, and the broth the clams were cooked in to the skillet. Return to low heat, toss the pasta in the sauce, and simmer for another minute to finish cooking it, adding a little of the pasta water if you prefer a wetter dish.
—Taste for salt and add a large grind of black pepper. Serve immediately, garnished with the parsley leaves.

Serves 2 to 3

The post 08/23/12 • THE HAPPY CLAM SAUCE appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the Aug./Sept., 2011 Saveur

I went out to East Hampton last weekend and since it was rainy and gray as I was packing, and since it was the first day of fall, like any reasonable person I grabbed things like heavy sweatpants and flannel shirts for what I anticipated would be a damp and chilly couple of days. Except I should have known that the weather never follows the calendar (especially these days, despite what Rick Perry might have you believe), and when I woke up on Saturday morning it was warm and muggy, with the kind of murky sunshine that makes you feel warmer still. So scratch the long sleeved Henleys and heavy socks — this would be a shorts and t-shirts kind of weekend. And forget that ham and white bean soup I’d been planning to make. Summer might be over in the official sense, but the humidity and the fractured sunlight said it was too early for a bowl of hot-anything. It would be one last weekend of summer food, if of the late-summer variety.

Which brings me to this week’s recipe, for something called trenette al pesto (or trenette with pesto, green beans, and potatoes), which I found in the August/September issue of Saveur. According to the magazine, the dish is a Genoese classic, with trenette being that region’s version of fettucine. I’ve never been to Genoa, but with the dish’s simple layering of vegetables over pesto-coated pasta, it seemed appropriately hardy for this northern Italian port city — I mean, potatoes and pasta? Really? You can do that? It also seemed to strike the right note for the weekend, satisfying my desire for something with seasonally appropriate heft, but that was still in tune with the Manila-like conditions outside.

I also loved that I’d get to call into action the basil I’ve been trying to grow all summer. The recipe calls for 3 cups of packed basil, and while I doubted my sad looking basil plant could produce that much (it’s been a rainy couple of months here) I figured I’d strip it bare, then fill out the balance by hitting the local farm-stands, or even the market if necessary. By the way, if you’re looking for an appropriate send off for summer, let me suggest holding a large bunch of basil close to your nose. I did just that as I pulled the juicy leaves from the stems, and it smelled sweet and wet, not unlike damp earth — a scent I tried hard to record given the months of dried herbs that lie ahead.

I love basil, just as I love everything that goes into a pesto — those slick little pine nuts, the olive oil, the garlic, the parmesan cheese . . . especially the parmesan cheese. This pesto has the added bonus of some grated pecorino as well, a bit of salty tang that’s always welcome as far as I’m concerned. Given how much I like everything that goes into pesto — given how much I like pesto itself — it’s odd that I make it so rarely. In fact, as I loaded all of the ingredients into the bowl of my food processor, I couldn’t recall the last time I’d made fresh pesto. My loss, because the payoff is huge. It looks gorgeous, like new grass after it rains, and it tastes even better. It’s easy, too. Just give the whole thing a whir in the food processor (traditionalists believe a mortar and pestle is the only way to go), season with a little salt and pepper, and you’re in business.

The remaining steps are just as easy. There are those red potatoes to prepare, which is simply a matter of tossing them with some olive oil, sprinkling them with coarse salt, and sliding them into the oven for a half hour or so (Saveur doesn’t offer instructions for this but mine are below). As for the pasta, if you’re using the dried variety you’ll want to cook this halfway to al dente (about 5 minutes) then add the haricots verts to the pot and cook three minutes more. If using fresh pasta, both items should go into the boiling water at the same time, since the cooking time for the fresh variety is so short. Once done, drain the pasta and beans, reserving a cup of cooking water as you may need this to smooth out the pesto, then toss with the potatoes and the pesto. And presto — the perfect weekend lunch. Who needs white bean soup anyway? Seriously, there will be plenty of time for that.

One final note on the recipe: As you may have noticed, Saveur’s title for this dish indicates it’s made with green beans, while the shopping list specifies haricots verts. Is this a contradiction? The answer is yes, and no. While haricots verts literally means green beans in French, there is a difference between the two, in that the French version tend to be longer, thinner, and to have a more complex flavor than the American. You can often find both at many markets, but if standard green beans (also called string beans or snap beans) are the only kind available, try to pick the thinnest ones possible as these will be the youngest and have the best flavor. And if the fat American variety is all you can locate, that’s fine too — your pasta will still be delicious.

Ingredients:

—3 cups packed basil

—1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus 1 tbsp for the potatoes

—3 tbsp finely grated parmesan

—2 tbsp finely grated pecorino

—2 tbsp pine nuts

—1 clove garlic, finely chopped

—Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

—1 lb trenette (Genoese fettucine) or linguine pasta

—8 oz (1/2 lb) haricots verts, trimmed

—8 oz (1/2 lb) baby red potatoes, roasted, then halved

Directions:

Preheat oven to 425. Process basil, ½ cup olive oil, nuts and garlic in a food processor until finely ground. Season with salt and pepper, set aside.

Toss 8 oz (1/2 lb) red potatoes with 1 tbsp of the extra-virgin olive oil. Spread in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet and season with a tsp of coarse salt. Roast in 425-degree oven, stirring halfway through cooking, until tender, about 30 minutes. Let cool, then halve.

Bring a 6-qt saucepan of salted water to a boil over high heat; add pasta and cook, stirring, until half-cooked (about 5 minutes for dry pasta). Add haricots verts, and cook, stirring, until pasta is al dente and beans are tender, about three minutes more (note: if using fresh pasta, beans and pasta should be placed in the boiling water simultaneously). Drain pasta and vegetables, reserving ¼ cup cooking water, and transfer to a large bowl along with potatoes and pesto; toss to combine, adding a few tablespoons reserved cooking water, if needed, to make a smooth sauce.

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