Bellini's Norma

I promised you two pasta stunners and this, gentle reader, is the second. This dish is supposedly named after the character Norma in Vincenzo Bellini’s opera of the same name. A rather dubious honour for the woman in question (Giulia Grisi), seeing how it’s a dish consisting mainly of plump purple fruit. However, if she ever tasted it she’d have known it for the compliment it truly is.

Pasta Alla Norma is a Sicilian dish and it is the one I ordered more than any other when I was in Sicily last year. I had it in posh restaurants, where it looked stunningly beautiful, and in small hole-in-the-wall type places where it looked messy and glorious. But looks aside, like all Italian cooking, it’s about the flavour of a few simple but great ingredients that just work well together. And believe me, Norma definitely hits the high notes. Start by dicing two aubergines, placing them in a colander and sprinkling them royally with salt. Place the colander in the sink and leave to drain for half an hour or so. This will make the aubergines more tender and remove the slight bitterness of the fruit. Rinse well in cold water, drain and pat dry. Fry the cubes in some butter and oil until golden brown and remove from the pan. Add some more oil and fry a finely chopped red onion and two garlic cloves until soft and slightly caramelized. Season with salt and pepper and return the aubergine to the pan. Toss together and add a jar of good tomato sauce with basil (like Barilla) and a can of chopped tomatoes with basil. Bring to the boil, clamp on a lid and after a few minutes turn off the heat. Anything with tomatoes, whether it’s soup or sauce, is always better if you let it stand for a while. Cook some penne in salted water, again adding some cooking liquid to the sauce when you bring it back to the boil. Combine the pasta with the sauce and tear up some buffalo mozzarella to stir through. Sprinkle some fresh basil leaves on top and grate over some ricotta, or if you can’t find that, some parmesan.

Mafaldine With Lamb And Mint

It’s been far too long, I know! The times, they’ve been a-changin’ and frankly I haven’t had a moment to spare (i.e. to blog). But just because I haven’t been busy writing, that doesn’t mean I haven’t been busy cooking. And believe you me, gentle reader, I’m making my blogging comeback in a big way. I’ve got two dazzling pasta dishes lined up, to make up for lost times. After all, you and I both know that nothing says ‘forgive me’ like a big bowl of carbs.

There’s something about the soothing warmth and slight bitterness of the lamb in combination with the rich fruitiness of the jelly that makes this dish perfectly suited to this time of year. The dark autumnal flavours are comforting, but the sprinkling of fresh mint is reminiscent of summer and gives us that pizzazz we so desperately need. Soften a chopped shallot or two (if they’re tiny) in some garlic oil, being careful not to let it colour. You want it soft and sweet, so when it does start to colour, add a pinch of salt (to stop it doing so). When it’s nearly there add a finely chopped garlic clove and stir until the garlic has lost its raw heat. Add a generous teaspoon of dried mint, the same amount of dried oregano and a good pinch of dried chilli flakes. Not too much though, you want a pleasant heat at the back of your throat, but this isn’t the place to go for full burn. Stir the herbs in the oniony oil for a minute, turning the mixture deeply fragrant, and then add the chopped lamb (about 400 grams). Break it up with a wooden spoon and let it colour. Be sure to take your time with this, I know of a lot of people who seem to think grey is an attractive colour for meat. Well it isn’t. You want the meat to caramelize, that’s where the flavour comes from. When the lamb has a nice golden sheen (and smells quite amazing) add a tin of chopped tomatoes and stir. Add a tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce and three tablespoons of a fruity jelly of your choice. I use pomegranate/ redcurrant. The sweetness of the jelly really cuts through the tangy bitterness inherent to the lamb. Turn the heat down low, clamp on a lid and let it simmer for a good long while. As ever with lamb, the longer you let it sit, the better it’ll be. Cook some beautiful strands of mafaldine pasta in salted water and, as always, add some of the cooking liquid to the sauce, helping it amalgamate. Drape the pasta in the rich ragout and sprinkle generously with torn fresh mint. And I mean generously! I know fresh mint doesn’t sound like the most natural combination with pasta and tomato sauce, but of course it is best friends with lamb and it really elevates this dish.