Erica De Mane

Recipe below: Rigatoni Pitti 

One evening about 15 years ago I walked into Bar Pitti, a neighborhood trattoria I’d been eating at since it opened in 1992, to ask a favor. I had a friend waiting outside in a van. He had muscular dystrophy and could barely walk with or without assistance. I had thought of Bar Pitti for dinner not only because the food was always good but also because it had no step up to get through the door and into the dining room, which my friend would never have been able to negotiate. I wondered if they had room for a party of eight, and possibly, if it wasn’t too much trouble, maybe if one of the bigger waiters could help my friend into his seat. I was doubtful, since the place, as usual, was packed. I saw only one empty table.

Not only did we get a table, but two of the waiters came to the van and hoisted my friend up to standing, steadying him as best as possible, and slowly walking him through the door and to our table, delicately lowering him into his seat. Now, this place is known to be a hipster celebrity and art crowd hangout. I eat there maybe once a month, but I’m a neighborhood type, not part of the Francesco Clemente gang that gathers almost every day for their four-hour lunches. But I was so impressed by their attention to my crippled friend and our unhip group, I just teared up. And he got the same service again when our lovely dinner was finished. The waiters lifted him from his seat, steadied him again (a little harder now after four wines), and walked him back to the van, lifting him onto the front seat and hooking the seatbelt. I’d always loved Bar Pitti, but now I loved it more than ever.

Their menu hasn’t changed at all since I first started going there almost 30 years ago, aside from a few seasonal dishes like puntarella and anchovy salad in the winter or the thick slices of local tomatoes drizzled with olive oil that show up in August. It is simple but thoughtful Italian cooking. Over the years I guess I’ve pretty much eaten my way through the menu, but I frequently return for the rigatoni Pitti, a solid bowl of al dente pasta studded with sausage and peas and bathed in a creamy tomato sauce. I’ve been thinking about how nice it would be to have that right now, at Bar Pitti, eating inside, all cozy with a bottle of Chianti and a few good friends. But of course that’s not possible. They do have outside heaters, but it’s freezing in Manhattan right now, and the heaters just don’t work well enough with the cold air whirling all around your feet and up to your face. So I decided to make rigatoni Pitti myself.

It is not a complicated dish, not difficult to figure out. Sometimes when I work out a restaurant dish at home I get the components right, as far as I can sense, but somehow don’t quite hit it. This time I felt I nailed it. I don’t believe the pancetta and rosemary I added are part of Pitti’s original, but they seemed right to me, adding roundness to the sauce. Pitti uses chicken sausage in the dish, which wouldn’t be my first choice, as I prefer regular Italian pork sausage for my home cooking, but it totally works. I’m not sure why they use chicken, maybe as a healthier choice, though you’d think all the cream in the sauce would cancel that out.  When I went to buy chicken sausage for the pasta, I was amazed at all the varieties I found, such as smoked apple chipotle, which would definitely not have been suitable. I settled on D’Artagnan’s Mediterranean-flavor chicken sausages. They were perfect.

This winter I’ve already seen several of my favorite Village restaurants close down. It’s sad beyond belief. I hope Bar Pitti can hold on. Once the temperature gets back above 30 degrees I’ll bundle up and go sit outside and enjoy this pasta at its source.  

FLASH: Recipe update

A Facebook friend and Bar Pitti regular just reminded me that Pitti actually uses turkey sausage for this pasta. So for absolute authenticity, try it with turkey, but I used chicken and it tasted almost identical to the original.

Rigatoni Pitti

(Serves 4) 

Extra-virgin olive oil 
1 ¼-inch-thick round of pancetta, well chopped 
1 large sweet onion, cut into small dice 
4 turkey or chicken sausages, the skin removed, the meat pulled into bits 
A few sprigs of rosemary, the leaves chopped 
A few big scrapings of nutmeg 
Salt 
Aleppo pepper 
A splash of dry white wine 
3/4 cup chicken broth 
1 35-ounce can San Marzano tomatoes, drained and chopped
1½ cups fresh or frozen peas
About 1/2 cup cream (you can always add a little more later on, if you think it needs it) 
A few drops of rice wine vinegar, if needed 
A chunk of grana Padano cheese
1 pound of rigatoni or penne pasta

Get out a large saucepan, and set it over medium heat. Drizzle in a little olive oil, and add the pancetta. Sauté until the pancetta just starts to crisp. Add the onion, the sausage, the rosemary, a little nutmeg, salt, and a bit of Aleppo pepper. Sauté until the meat is lightly browned, about 5 minutes or so. Add a splash of white wine, and let it bubble for a few seconds. Add the chicken broth, the tomatoes, and the peas, turn the heat down a bit, and let simmer until the sausage is tender, about 5 minutes.

While the sauce is simmering, bring a pot of pasta cooking water to a boil, adding an ample amount of salt. Add the rigatoni.

Add the cream to the pan, stirring it in. Let it simmer a few more minutes to blend the flavors. Taste for seasoning, adding more salt if needed and a little more Aleppo if you like that. I also added a few drops of rice wine vinegar. It helped bring up all the flavors. Depending on the acidity of your tomatoes and wine, you may or may not need that.

When the rigatoni is al dente, drain it, and pour it into a large serving bowl. Add the sauce, grate on a tablespoon or so of grana Padano, and toss well. Serve hot, bringing the rest of the cheese to the table.