


It’s not that making fresh pasta is terribly difficult; it just takes skill and patience. There are a series of movements you go through when rolling out your pasta dough, and at one point, I was getting particularly frustrated when I couldn’t achieve the right rolling rhythm. Uncle Alessandro thought it was hilarious though, and despite wanting to club myself with the matterello on a few occasions, he stood there patiently until I got the technique right and was able to roll out my perfectly aerated dough into a sheet so thin you could see Sanctuary of the Madonna di San Luca through it.
Up until today, pasta came from boxes, and was drier than the Gobi Desert, and Parmesan cheese generally showed up in a money-colored canister, and ironically, tasted like a crisp George Washington. That is all about to change. I know how to do it now, so going forward, I will make an effort to crown the table with freshly made shapes of dried dough when the menu calls for Italian. Why? Because I'm that cool.

The difference in taste between a dry, store-bought pasta and what we made today was incredibly obvious. Incidentally, slaving away over a wooden board, and covering my dark blue jeans in flour, didn't seem so torturous as I lifted each bite of fluffy tortelloni with butter and Parmigiano Reggiano, tortellini soup, and pappardelle Bolognese to my mouth.

My amazing hosts, Matteo & Julie, took me out for Mexican food tonight. Yes, you heard me correctly. I almost collapsed with excitement when I saw the words "taco" and "nachos" on a menu, and my exuberance probably was a little bit exaggerated. But as I learned today in my pasta making course, it's the piccolissimo things in life. Like how two basic ingredients that you always have on-hand in your kitchen can create a golden feast for the eyes and mouth.
La Vecchia Scuola Bolognese
www.lavecchiascuola.com
Next Stop: Venice
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