Ligurian walnut pesto pasta
The amount of time I spend looking at photos and videos of pasta is quite unbelievable. One might say I am obsessed with the subject. I suppose it stems from the 6 months I lived in a microscopic flat in Rome without a kitchen, where I was forced to buy all my meals from the surrounding restaurants and cafes. What a trying time that was! I was forced to sample 100s of pasta dishes during this time and thus my love for the art of pasta was forever cemented. I say cemented not born because I was very much a pasta person before I lived in Italy, but more of the ‘chuck some cheddar on some overcooked penne’ variety. Don’t get me wrong, English style pasta still has a place in my heart (fridge, and stomach), but I also have this thirst to know more about the ancient art of perfect pasta making. My two favourite things about pasta are that firstly, it is a simple preparation, and secondly there exist infinite varieties and permutations of dishes if you inspect the cuisine of each region of Italy, and even singular villages. How cool is that! Simple, with endless possibilities! No wonder I am obsessed with learning about new pasta dishes. Each one is like a prized jewel revered by a whole village of people. Each recipe is a treasured memory of Sunday lunches with family past and present. It is identity, familiarity, and love from the one who prepares it for you. For this reason I try to keep my pasta preparations as close to the original recipes as possible. They are anthropological artefacts after all, and the regional significance of specific techniques and ingredients is not lost on me.
So when I happened upon a photo of ‘pansoti con salsa di noci’ you will understand why I felt a rare pang of excitement, like finding an unusual gemstone! A variety of pasta shape I had not seen before paired with a sauce that I had also not seen before! Pansoti look like triangular ravioli and the sauce was white but with some texture to it unlike a bechamel. Very curious!
When I researched the dish a little further I learned that the triangles are filled with borage and nettles and other strange wild herbs native to Liguria that funnily enough I cannot ‘forage’ (as the internet helpfully suggested) from the roadsides of Watford. So, undeterred I turned my attention to the curious textured white sauce speckled with brown flecks.
After a little more research I had gleaned the following:
The creamy white sauce is mostly the work of walnuts emulsified with bread, milk and olive oil. The addition of cream here would constitute a minor criminal offence despite its occasional appearance at stingy restaurants and tourist establishments. Marjoram lends the melody here, and parmesan a tangy, deep umami hum.
So how to create this luscious Ligurian treasure in North London? Well I couldn’t get fresh marjoram for starters, so I had to make an extra effort to introduce the flavour of very sad looking flakes of the dried stuff in a detectable way. If you can find fresh, just use a few leaves in the mixture. I imagine it is quite strong.
As I mentioned before I couldn’t find the herbs required to make filled pansoti, so I opted for spaghetti instead. For a bit of drama, I have borrowed from the plethora of pistachio pesto pasta dishes that are in circulation on the web, often topped with burrata and crushed nuts. I know I said I keep things traditional where possible, so adding burrata to this dish might sound incongruent with that, but I couldn’t do the more traditional herb stuffed pansoti, so I had a good reason to go off script! A girl has to live.
So enough drivel. Let me tell you what you actually need to know about this walnut pesto pasta. The sauce comes together in the time it takes to boil the pasta. It is surprisingly delicious - I thought I wouldn’t like it as I find walnuts bitter and unappealing generally, but emulsified in this way, they really are spectacular. You can keep the pesto in the fridge in tuppaware for a few days so it is a good ‘prepare ahead’ type of meal. It simply needs to be added to a pan (or large bowl) with al dente pasta, and as much pasta water as necessary to turn the pasty stiff pesto into a creamy sauce that effortlessly coats each strand of pasta.
You don’t need to top the pasta with burrata. A smattering of parmesan, olive oil and crushed walnuts is more than sufficient to obtain total velvety indulgence. But who can say no to burrata when faced with the choice?
Can it be vegan? You could probably substitute the parmesan for nutritional yeast. Or leave it out all together and add more salt in its place.
So here it is! This is my recipe for Ligurian walnut pesto pasta or ‘walnut sauce’ - I really hope you like it as much as I do!
Ligurian Walnut Pesto Pasta Recipe
Makes enough sauce for 6 people (extra can be stored in the fridge for 2-3 days)
Ingredients:
For the walnut pesto:
200g walnuts (make sure you use a new packet that is in date to avoid bitterness)
1 slice of white bread
25g parmesan
250ml milk
1/2 clove of garlic
75ml best quality extra virgin olive oil
1/2 teaspoon of dried marjoram
salt to taste (around 1/2 teaspoon)
For the pasta:
Spaghetti or another dried pasta of your choice (quantity depends on preference)
1/2 teaspoon of dried Marjoram
Pasta water as needed
To garnish:
Burrata (1\2 a medium sized burrata per person)
Extra virgin olive oil
parmesan
crushed walnuts
Method:
1) Set the pasta to boil in a large saucepan with plenty of salt. Taste the water to check it tastes salty.
2) Soak the bread in the milk - Remove the crusts of the bread and then place it in a shallow dish and pour the milk over the top. Flip the bread to make sure the whole surface area has been in contact with the milk. Set aside.
3) Blend the pesto - place the nuts, parmesan, olive oil, garlic and some salt in the chamber of your blender. Squeeze the bread to remove the liquid and add the squeezed out bread to the blender. Then add 100ml of the leftover milk. Blend everything together, pausing to scrape the sides with a spatula from time to time if necessary. Continue to blend and scrape until a creamy smooth paste is achieved (it looks a bit like hummus!). If your blender is struggling add some more milk as required.
4) Season the pesto - taste the pesto and add some salt if it needs it. It should taste savoury, so don’t be shy!
5) Crush walnuts for garnish - place a small handful of walnuts per person in a plastic bag and bash them with a rolling pin to achieve a crumble. The size of the pieces is up to you, but I prefer a finer texture.
6) Coat the pasta in sauce - 3 minutes before the pasta is fully cooked remove some pasta water from the pasta pot with a large ladle and pour it into a large frying pan or wok (2 ladles should work). Set the frying pan to medium heat, and to the pasta water inside it, add 1/2 teaspoon of dried marjoram. Allow the marjoram to infuse in the water for 1 minute, and then transfer the pasta from its cooking pot to the saucepan. Allow it to cook for a further two minute in the marjoram water. Turn off the heat and add large spoonfuls of pesto (around 2 tablespoons per person). Mix the pesto into the pasta and add extra pasta water at this point if the pesto needs to be loosened. The resulting sauce should be creamy and thick enough to coat the pasta but not too thick and claggy. It should resemble double cream.
7) Plate the pasta - transfer the pasta to plates or one large serving platter and top with burrata, a drizzle of oilve oil (concentrated on the burrata), parmesan (concentrated on the pasta) and crushed nuts.
Eat immediately! This dish needs to be eaten right away to prevent it drying out and loosing its silky allure!