Last week I wrote about Lent, and posted a photo of a piece of art depicting Christ’s crucifixion located at a church in Rome. To find the photo, it was necessary for me to peruse the blog I posted about our European travels that I started in 2008 during our three-month adventure. I got sucked in, and before I knew it, I had spent a couple of hours reading about our travels. I decided it might be fun to reminisce with you all a bit about some of our trips, and include food typical of the area about which I’m speaking. I know, I know…..I’m indulging myself.

The first time Bill and I visited Italy was around 1999. (I’m not dead certain of the year because in those days I kept a paper travel journal which is back in Denver. No help here in Arizona.) We had never traveled abroad without the crutch of our children with us. Our son Allen lived and traveled in Europe for about four years and our son Dave spent a semester studying in Edinburgh, Scotland, so they had given us a hand previously. This time we were mostly on our own.

We did, however, meet our daughter Heather in Milan, and spent a few days with her. I recall happily greeting her at the train station and then telling her that I needed to use the bathroom.  She got a funny look on her face and asked me if I had tissues with me. “I think so,” I said, wondering why she wanted to know. It didn’t take long before I realized the cause of her concern. When I opened the bathroom stall, not only was there no toilet paper, there was no toilet. There was a hole in the ground and a place to put my feet. We’re not in Kansas anymore, I thought.

After our visit with Heather, we headed for Rome and she moved on to Paris, where she was going to meet her Uncle Bruce. Bill had learned in his travel book that one option if you were moving from one point to another was to take an overnight train instead of renting a hotel room. He couldn’t get that notion out of his mind and was determined to take an overnight train and get a sleeping berth. Unfortunately, the earliest we could get a sleeping berth on the train from Milan to Rome was in Bologna.

Now, here’s the thing. We were total and complete neophytes. We didn’t know the customs. We didn’t speak the language. We didn’t know just how we were going to find out how to find our sleeping car in Milan, didn’t understand one thing about it. We pulled into the station, waited a few moments hoping against hope that a conductor would come get us. It was Italy folks. That was not going to happen, though we didn’t understand that yet. Newbies, donchaknow.

Finally Bill said he was going to find out what was happening. He DISEMBARKED the train, hoping to be able to locate someone to help him. He was gone for quite some time. Suddenly the train began to move. Within a minute, the train was heading south at full speed.

Oh My God. I was all alone. My husband was missing in action. I didn’t know details about our plans. I knew absolutely no Italian. I had no cell phone. Last I had seen of Bill, he had been on the platform looking for a helpful Italian. I’m not sure I have ever been so distraught.

Just as I was about to become quite hysterical (and wouldn’t a hysterical American woman have made the Italians happy?) I saw Bill coming down the aisle of the train. He had gotten the details about our sleeping berth and gotten back onto the train on a different car.

Since that time, we have visited Italy a number of times and are much more sophisticated travelers. I have learned that as long as you understand that you CAN’T UNDERSTAND Italian logic you’ll be fine. The Italians are generally eager to help.

When we spent over three months traveling in Europe in 2008, two of those months were spent in Italy. That time we arrived in the country by car, driving in from Austria. Our first stop was Padua, near Venice, in northern Italy. Padua is the location of the Basilica dedicated to my very favorite saint, Anthony of Padua. St. Anthony is the patron saint of lost items and Catholics ask his prayers to help them locate items they can’t find. I call upon him often, I’m afraid.

We bunked in Padua, but in addition, visited Verona, Trieste, and Venice, all by car. We had a Peugeot convertible that Bill (God bless him) drove 6,600 total miles in three months. Without a single scratch on the car. Driving in Italy. Just sayin….

Anyhoo, we had spent the past month or so in France, Germany, and Austria, but were eager to get to Italy because it is our favorite European country. Can’t help it. I love the scenery. I love the people. I love the churches. I love the art. I love the food. Mostly, I LOVE THE FOOD.

The first night in Padua, we went out to a local restaurant near our hotel. We were dining earlier than most (7 o’clock is unseemingly early in France and Italy) so we were nearly by ourselves in the restaurant. The waiter took us under his wing and began bringing us food, as so often happens in Italy. I mean food we haven’t ordered. They just want us to try things and they can’t help being hospitable and generous, especially when it comes to their food. He brought us risi e bisi as a first course, a specialty of the region — rice and fresh green peas. Bill had bucatini with duck and asparagus and I had tagliatelli with tomato, garlic and pecorino cheese. Bucatini is typical in the region. It is a long pasta with a hole running through it. Because of its hollow shape, the pasta is difficult to wrap neatly around your fork, and it sort of slaps you in the face as you eat it.

The most surprising thing to me was that prominent on the menu was horse meat – as an appetizer, as a sauce for pasta, as a main course. I didn’t realize horse was eaten anywhere. I passed, thank you very much, but to this day I regret that choice. I might not have liked it, but dang, I wish I knew what it tasted like.

The recipe I’m posting is Bucatini all’ Amatriciana. The sauce might be a bit more typical of Rome, but the bucatini pasta is very definitely typical of northern Italy. I am giving you Lidia Bastianich’s version, and it doesn’t contain horse.

Bucatini all’ Amatriciana (Bucatini with Pancetta, Tomato, and Onion), from Lidia’s Italian-American Kitchen cookbook

Ingredients

One 35-oz. can Italian plum tomatoes (preferably San Marzano)

Salt

5 T. extra-virgin olive oil, or to taste

1 medium onion, sliced thin (about 2 cups)

Four ¼ in. slices pancetta (about 6 oz.), cut into 1-1/2 in julienne strips (about 1-1/2 c.)

½ t. crushed hot red pepper flakes

1 lb. bucatini or perciatelli pasta

1 c. grated Pecorino Romano cheese, plus more for passing

Process

Pass the tomatoes and their liquid through a food mill fitted with the fine disc. Set aside. Bring 6 qts. of salted water to a boil in an 8-qt. pot.

In a large skillet, heat 2 T of the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring, until wilted, about 4 min. Stir in the pancetta and cook 2 min. Add the red pepper flakes and the strained tomatoes and bring to a boil. Adjust the heat to a simmer, and season lightly with salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the sauce is thickened, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, stir the pasta into the boiling water and cook, stirring occasionally, until done, about 12 minutes.

Check the seasoning of the sauce adding salt if necessary (remember, the Pecorino is mildly salty).

Reserve about 1 c. of the pasta cooking water. Drain the pasta, return it to the pot, and pour in half the sauce. Bring the sauce and pasta to a boil and drizzle in the remaining 3 T. olive oil. Add some of the pasta cooking water if necessary to make enough of the sauce to coat the pasta lightly. Check the seasoning, adding salt if necessary. Remove the pan from the heat, stir in 1 c. grated cheese, and transfer to a large, heated serving platter or bowl. Spoon the remaining sauce over the top and pass additional grated cheese separately if you like.

Nana’s Notes: God bless Lidia. Seriously, she’s my favorite chef. I love her cooking. But not everyone lives in New York City with access to many ingredients. I didn’t find San Marzano tomatoes in my neighborhood grocery store here in Mesa. Also, I have no interest in passing anything through a food mill. I mean, really? So I bought canned crushed tomatoes. Also, the only pancetta I could find was thinly sliced, so that’s what I used. You know what? It was delicious even if Lidia would be horrified.

Furthermore, since I was only cooking for Bill and me, I cut the recipe in half. Worked fine.

I used bucatini, but you could also use spaghetti or linguine. Any long pasta.

It was scrumptious.