The Pasta Trail: A True Story

Many years ago, while still a college student, a friend of mine, more unsettled and undecided about his future prospects than I was, took off for Italy in search of something. He returned knowing his passion, he said. He was going to be a vet, a surprising choice given his overt disdain of people and pets. Whatever. But what he really found was his passion for a delicate dish of pasta made with fresh tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil.

Like most kids who grew up in the 50’s, we ate what our mothers cooked. My mother, coming from the Bronx, made a legendary flanken but her pasta never got further than spaghetti or elbow macaroni loaded with butter, or occasionally smothered in red sauce sprinkled with parm straight from a can. In my case, I crowned my spaghetti with ketchup.

The summer he returned from Italy, Spieg (as he was affectionately nicknamed being one of three Robert’s in our high school crowd) meticulously prepared for us in his parent’s kitchen this radical pasta dish. It was a quick fix from fresh ingredients and a meld of flavors I had never before tasted. No tomatoes spewing and sputtering on the stove for hours to make a sauce that in reality was no better than what came out of a jar. This was one pot, one bowl, a dice and a toss, finished with a generous drizzle of olive oil. Delicious culinary magic.

Since then, I have made this dish with no name many many times. (I’ve googled in search of a handle but have only come up with its list of ingredients.) As an orphan dish with no lineage, my kids affectionately dubbed it my “Summer Pasta” because that’s when they first remember me making it for them. And like good spaghetti thrown against a wall, the name stuck.

I’ve traveled through Italy with my sister-in-law on a perpetual hunt for this dish. From one hilltop town to the next, we savored every variation. And recently, an ill friend asked for my “Summer Pasta” as her fantasy food request. I hope it lived up to its billing.

Over the years I’ve tweaked with the recipe, such as it is, and now add sautéed onions and garlic to the tomato-basil toss and I infuse the olive oil drizzle with some balsamic vinegar. But no matter how you dice your tomatoes or shred your cheese, you can’t go wrong.

The moral: If you want good pasta, keep it simple.