Pasta All’Amatriciana -- The Week the Tomatoes Came In

The first ripe tomato was Tuesday. A Brandywine, the big beefsteak type that Helen plants two of every year. It was the size of a small softball, deeply red with a faint pink at the blossom end, and it smelled the way only a vine-ripened tomato in July in Vermont smells — sharp and green and warm from the sun. I brought it inside and sliced it on the cutting board and salted it and ate it standing at the counter while Helen watched. She said well? I said yes. She said she knows. This is the only acceptable answer when the first tomato arrives.

The rest of the week was tomatoes in every possible form. Sliced with salt and olive oil for lunch. Halved and roasted in the oven until they caramelize for pasta sauce. Two pounds chopped fine with garlic and basil for a raw sauce — the one where the pasta goes straight from the boiling water into the uncooked tomatoes and the heat of the pasta slightly wilts the tomatoes without cooking them, which produces something neither fully raw nor fully cooked and better than either. This is only possible in August with a tomato that was on the vine this morning. I do not make this with any other tomato. It would not be worth making.

Anna turned six in July and her birthday present from us was a trip up with David to pick a book at the bookstore in Burlington and then dinner at the farmhouse. She picked a book about horses. I said it was an excellent choice. She read the first three chapters in the car on the way home, according to David. I told him she is going to be a reader. He said I said the same about Teddy. I said I was right about Teddy. He said yes. I said I am right about Anna. He said he believes me. He has learned to believe me about readers. Thirty-eight years of spotting them in the first week of school provides some expertise.

After a week of eating tomatoes in every form I could think of — raw, roasted, wilted over hot pasta — I wanted something that honored that abundance without asking too much of the cook. Pasta All’Amatriciana does exactly that: it lets a good tomato be the whole point, supported by nothing more than a little pork, a little heat, and time in the pan. It’s the kind of dish that feels right at the end of a week like that one, when Helen and I have been moving between the garden and the kitchen without much ceremony, and the eating has been the whole event.

Pasta All’Amatriciana

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 12 oz bucatini or rigatoni
• 4 oz guanciale or pancetta, cut into 1/4-inch cubes
• 1/2 medium onion, finely diced
• 2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
• 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes, or to taste
• 1/2 cup dry white wine
• 1 1/2 lbs fresh ripe tomatoes, cored and roughly chopped (or one 28-oz can whole peeled tomatoes, crushed by hand)
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for pasta water
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 2 oz Pecorino Romano, finely grated, plus more for serving
• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Instructions

1. Render the guanciale. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add guanciale and cook, stirring occasionally, until the fat renders and the edges just begin to crisp, about 6–8 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside, leaving the fat in the pan.
2. Build the base. Add onion to the skillet and cook over medium heat until softened and translucent, about 4 minutes. Add garlic and red pepper flakes and cook 1 minute more, stirring, until fragrant.
3. Deglaze. Pour in the white wine and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Let the wine reduce by half, about 2 minutes.
4. Add tomatoes. Stir in the fresh chopped tomatoes, salt, and black pepper. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally and breaking up the tomatoes with a spoon, until the sauce thickens and the tomatoes have completely broken down, about 15 minutes. Return the guanciale to the pan.
5. Cook the pasta. While the sauce simmers, bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until 1 minute shy of al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water before draining.
6. Finish the dish. Add drained pasta directly to the sauce over medium heat. Toss to coat, adding splashes of pasta water as needed to loosen the sauce and help it cling to the pasta. Cook 1–2 minutes until pasta is al dente and well coated.
7. Serve. Remove from heat and stir in half the Pecorino Romano. Divide among bowls and top with additional cheese. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 18g | Fat: 19g | Carbs: 68g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 680mg