Erica De Mane

Farro spaghetti with zucchini blossoms, mozzarella, and anchovies.

Recipe:

Farro Spaghetti with Zucchini Blossoms, Mozzarella, and Anchovies

Several years ago, while in Italy, making my way by car to Puglia, I stopped en route to see Hadrian’s Villa, the second-century estate and gardens of the emperor Adriana, at Tivoli. I had never been there before but the place’s crumbling glamour beckoned. A friend, a painter, had recently given us a painting he did of the estate, and looking at it on our wall for several months made me feel I needed to go take a look for myself.

It was a chilly but sunny day in October when we arrived. Walking around the Greek-inspired Roman ruins at first gave me a sense of being hopelessly lost in one of those demeaning who-am-I-and-why-am-I-so-petty ways. Then, after strolling silently though the ruins and vast lawns and pools, I lightened up and somehow felt I belonged there. I am, after all, a sorella d’Italia, and one from a town not too far from that palatial estate (although my ancestral home is a bit more humble, and that has got to be the biggest understatement). I still felt lost, but in that wonderful way of being lost into something better than me but still connected to me that I feel when I’m cooking. I remember most vividly the majestic pool lined with amputated Greek statues, first for its grandeur and then for the fact that a little tribe of chewed-up-looking white cats followed me around the entire time, alternately looking up at me and poking their paws in the water, maybe thinking I was going to fish for them. I guess they sensed I was a cook. Cats have an ability to seek out people with a feeding gene.

After wandering around for a few hours, slipping in and out of once-lively doorways, my husband and I left and, next to the entrance, noticed a pretty outdoor café. All of a sudden we were starving. We ordered glasses of Frascati, the wine of the nearby Castelli Romani area. It was light, slightly frizzante, and virtually flavorless, perfect for a sunny afternoon. Just about everything on the menu was a pasta. One dish I zeroed right it on was a pasta tossed with zucchini blossoms, anchovies, tomato, and mozzarella. Strange combination, I thought at the time. But then I recalled the Roman fried zucchini blossoms that are almost always stuffed with mozzarella and anchovy, and how delicious they are. Then the mix of ingredients in this pasta made perfect sense. The dish was brought to the table, and the first thing I noticed, even before taking in its sweet and fishy aroma, was its beauty; wilted yellow blossoms, bright red tomatoes, melting cubes of white mozzarella, specks of green herbs, all in a glossy slick of olive oil and little pasta-cooking water, I assumed. This pasta, on that day, seemed to be the best thing I had ever eaten. And the cats left me alone. I think they knew they weren’t allowed passed the maitre d’. I did enclose a few strands of especially anchovy-flavored pasta in a piece of bread to sneak out for them. The cats appeared to like it as much as I did.

Every June, when I first notice zucchini blossoms in my greenmarket, I recreate this pasta. This year, instead of the fettuccine it was served with at Hadrian’s Villa, I used a farro spaghetti, which seems to me a better match for the salty, tomatoey sauce, than the delicate egg pasta. I love the mix of acid from the tomatoes with the creaminess of the mozzarella, the sweet freshness of the zucchini blossoms, and the solid underpinning of anchovy. This is not something Adriano would have eaten in his once-nearby dining hall, since tomatoes didn’t exist in Europe until the 1500s, but the elegant yet rustic dish certainly went well with the elegant but now rather rustic surroundings of the estate.

Our painting of Hadrian’s Villa, by Joseph Keiffer.

Farro is a type of spelt, very popular in central Italy, where it’s cooked as a whole grain, or ground like polenta, or made into pasta. It makes wonderful pasta, but some companies do a much better job at it than others. Latini makes the best farro pasta I’ve tried. You can order it at www.gustiamo.com.

Farro Spaghetti with Zucchini Blossoms, Mozzarella, and Anchovies

(Serves 2 as a main course)

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus an extra drizzle
Salt
1 medium summer onion, thinly sliced, using some of the tender green stem
1 summer garlic clove, thinly sliced
1/2 pound farro or whole-wheat spaghetti
5 oil-packed anchovies, chopped
1 pint cherry tomatoes, cut in half
About a dozen zucchini blossoms, wiped clean, the pistils removed, the stems trimmed
Freshly ground black pepper
5 scrapings nutmeg
A splash of sweet Vermouth
A handful of basil leaves, roughly chopped
1/4 pound mozzarella, cut into little cubes
A chunk of grana padano cheese

Put up a large pot of pasta-cooking water, and bring it to a boil. Add a generous amount of salt.

In a large skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion, and sauté until just starting to soften, about 2 minutes. Add the garlic, and let it sauté for about a minute.

Drop the spaghetti into the water, and give it a stir.

Add the anchovies to the skillet, and let everything sauté a few moments longer, until it is very fragrant and the onion is lightly golden. Add the cherry tomatoes, and let them sauté until they start to give up some juices, about 4 minutes. Add the zucchini blossoms, and season with salt, black pepper, and nutmeg. Let this simmer about a minute (the blossoms need just to heat through). Add a splash of sweet Vermouth, and let it bubble for a few seconds.

When the spaghetti is al dente, drain it, saving a little cooking water, and pour the spaghetti into a warmed serving bowl. Add a generous drizzle of fresh olive oil and the basil, and give it a quick toss. Pour on the sauce, add the mozzarella, and toss again gently, adding a little pasta-cooking water if needed for moisture. Taste for seasoning, adding more salt or pepper if needed. Serve right away, with grana padano for grating.