Spicy, Briny, Deeply Delicious

Ragù di Pesce

We woke up very early yesterday morning at my aunt’s house near Nice, where we spent the past ten days, and before we had even had our coffee, drove across the border to Ventimiglia. We had a quick cappuccino and cornetto at a bar in Ventimiglia, said goodbye to my aunt and my Sicilian uncle and my cousin and her daughter, then boarded a train for Milan and, later, another one for Pesaro. By 6:00 pm, we were at home in our little village near Urbino. The wind was roaring in the treetops as the sun set and the boys ran through the house, gleefully excavating their toys from last summer.

This morning, Max set off for a run in the hills while the boys and I drove to Urbino to do our first market visit, filling our bags with softball-sized peaches, dark green green beans and a sackful of raw fish bits and mantis shrimp from the fishmonger’s for lunch. For lunch, I wanted to make my friend Gabriella’s ragù di pesce, a spicy, briny, deeply delicious sauce that you toss with spaghetti and that grabs your heart at first bite. Gabriella is from Bologna, the culinary heart of Italy, and I have learned so much from her over the years, like how to make delicious lasagne, breadcrumb passatelli, an excellent ragù (the recipe is in My Berlin Kitchen - that’s an affiliate link) and the best octopus and potato salad.

To make ragù di pesce, you must begin, of course, with the fish. At most fishmongers and markets here, next to the gleaming fish and fillets, you can buy a little mixture specially made for ragù. It's got bits of salmon and monkfish, tiny shucked clams, chopped squid, and some shrimp cut into it. You can make your own fish mix in places without such a lovely service by simply buying a couple of different fillets of fish, a few shrimp and squid, and a handful of clams, and then chopping and shucking everything up at home.

I also bought a handful of canocchie, a local specialty here known as mantis shrimp in English. Have you ever heard of them? They look sort of goofy and they're very spiny, but once you get past their shell, the flesh is sweet and fresh and almost crab-like in consistency. Alternatively you can buy scampi, one per person.

Alright, so let’s say you have about a pound of this fish mixture for four people, or a pound and a half for five or six. Let’s get everything assembled. Are you the kind of person to do a proper mise en place before you start cooking? I always wish I could be, but I really never am. Still, let's make pretend we're doing a mise. Gather an onion, some garlic cloves, a big pile of minced fresh parsley, two or three plum tomatoes or a can of puréed tomatoes, a glass of white wine, a box and a bit of spaghetti (I made 600 grams of spaghetti for 600 grams of fish mix - this serves 5 or 6), some hot red pepper flakes, salt, and the fish mix.

Put on an apron and finely dice the onion and two cloves of garlic. In a wide, deep pan, cook them gently in a few spoonfuls of olive oil, along with several spoonfuls of the minced parsley. You want this mixture to get wonderfully fragrant without browning or burning. So monitor the heat and keep moving everything around the pan.

When it's done, about 7 minutes later, add the chopped fish mixture and stir well to distribute the oil and onion and garlic and parsley. Let that cook for a few minutes, stirring, just until you see the edges of the chopped shrimp start to go gray.

Add the mantis shrimp or scampi, if using, and then add the dry white wine. Mix well and let it cook down for several minutes. In the meantime, seed and chop three or four plum tomatoes. Or open a jar or can of puréed tomatoes.

Add the tomatoes to the pan and stir. If it's looking like it needs a little more color, add a few spoonfuls of pureed canned tomatoes. And salt. A good amount! Gabriella says that's the trick about seafood, it needs a lot of salt. And a nice pinch or two of red pepper flakes, if you want a little heat. (I always do.)

Let the sauce come to a low boil and busy yourself with other things for a little while, like filling a pot with water for the spaghetti and bringing it to a boil, then cleaning up the kitchen counter. When the sauce is, well, saucy, meaning, when the sloshiest part of the liquid has reduced just a bit, about 10 to 12 minutes later, you can turn off the heat, stir in the rest of the parsley, taste for seasoning and finish dealing with the spaghetti.

When the spaghetti is nice and al dente, drain it and add it to the pan with the ragù, tossing to distribute the little bits of fish and sauce evenly. You want to work quickly so that the spaghetti doesn't turn gummy. It'll absorb a bit of the sauce in the hot pan, which makes for forkfuls that truly taste of the sea.

The fish bits fall apart in the sauce, infusing the tomato sauce with briny flavor. The wine gives depth to the sauce, which is, as these things go, quite a contender for fancy fast food. The parsley adds freshness and a bit of color. But really, calling out the individual elements of the dish is sort of beside the point, because what makes this so delicious and special is how it all comes together on the plate.

As soon as the spaghetti is sauced, you must dish it out and eat immediately. You know that hot pasta waits for no one, yes? Pasta must be consumed almost as quickly as it hits the plate. Make sure your eaters are waiting at the table, forks in hand. Then twirl up the spaghetti, slurp up the ragù, suck the sweet meat out of those mantis shrimp. And give thanks to the sea.

Gabriella at home, 2010