Small Bites: Fresh pasta meditations

Working through the horrors of modern life one cavatello at a time.

“Small Bites” is about exploring the broader world of food and drink in Madison through approachable and specific experiences.

Shit’s bad out there. Federal funding cuts are due to start hitting education in Wisconsin hard. Wisconsin Republicans still have a chokehold on state funding designed to punish cities like Madison. Consumer confidence is tanking amid a bird flu crisis that’s driving up the price of eggs without any national plan to combat the spread of the disease—the USDA actually fired its key bird flu experts during another Elon Musk-directed worker purge. 

I can’t imagine a lighthearted food column is a place where people want to read about broad political catastrophes, but how can you ignore that extremist right-wing Super PACs are funneling money into the upcoming Wisconsin Supreme Court race? (Don’t forget to vote on April 1!)

You can’t overlook it, but you might be able to process your stress, frustration, terror, and anger one hand-shaped pasta at a time.

When I feel the weight of the world at large begin to crush my psyche, I make fresh pasta. There’s no instant gratification with hand-shaped pasta; it will take you hours to produce something you’ll finish eating in just minutes. But the process itself is the point. First, you have to mix the dough tediously, then let it rest. Then, one by one, you peel off bits of dough, shape them against the counter, and place them delicately on a flour-dusted baking sheet to cure. It’s an entire afternoon of mindless labor. Only, unlike cleaning your gutters, you can eventually eat it. 

In the United States, fresh pasta can feel luxurious—usually something you see only on the menus of high-end establishments. Osteria Papavero‘s Cinghiale delivers a rich and complex wild boar ragout over silky and delicate strips of pappardelle that are eye-opening. The contrast of the hearty, braised meat against the lightness of the pasta is a culinary revelation worthy of any fancy date night. 

It’s important to remember that fresh pasta is actually peasant food. With just a few cheap ingredients, you can pull together a meal of fresh pasta that’s nourishing and hearty enough to feed the entire family. Or at least the ingredients used to be cheap. With egg prices still inflated, well, maybe it’s time to ditch the standard egg-based fresh pasta recipes that dominate cookbooks and look to our humblest specialty flour: semolina.

If you’ve ever looked at a package of dried pasta, you’ll likely see two ingredients: water and durum wheat. Prized for its high protein content and ability to retain starch while cooking, durum wheat is standard for most pasta-making. But if you’re looking to buy some durum wheat flour for yourself at home, what you’re really looking for is semolina. Defined by its coarser processing, semolina is yellowish and grainier than a typical powder-fine white flour. In its coarsest milled varieties, semolina is often used to dust pizza counters to keep the dough from sticking to the peel. Finer-processed semolina, however, is perfect for a simple water-based pasta recipe. 

Though semolina flour is a staple you can find at most grocery stores, you’ll want to frequent specialty Italian grocers like Fraboni‘s or Alimentari to find imported Italian brands that are specifically milled for pasta making. Once you have a bag in your cupboard, the only thing you need is water to get your recipe going. 

Semolina is a simple dough—all you need is flour and water—but combining the two can be tricky. My former colleague Grace Kelly has a great recipe for malloreddus alla campidanes up on Serious Eats for a great intro to semolina and water pasta, but I think there are some key tips to help get the dough to fully hydrate. Because it’s such a hardy wheat variety (and due to its coarse processing), semolina won’t absorb water as thirstily as other flours. 

I tend to use a stand mixer or a food processor to get the dough started, in part because the “well method” is needlessly fussy. But I also use one because the semolina flour will initially resist the water, causing it to spill out all over your kitchen if you try to mix this dough directly on your counter. Here are a few other tips that are key for getting semolina dough to work: 

Weigh your water and pasta, and start with a 45% hydration ratio.

That means if you’re using 100 grams of semolina, you’d need 45 grams of water to start, or for a standard 400-gram flour pasta batch, 180 grams of water. By weighing your ingredients, you’ll know exactly how much water you’ve added every single time. If you use too little water, the dough will be stiff and hard to work. Too much, and it’ll be sticky and struggle to hold its shape. 

Let the mixture rest before trying to form it into a dough.

Semolina flour takes time for each granule to hydrate. After mixing water and flour, give the craggy ball a minute or two to absorb moisture. It’ll likely feel crumbly at first, but with a short rest (five minutes, max), the crumbly bits will easily press together and start forming a dough. But if, even then, it doesn’t want to coalesce, it’s time to add more moisture.

Use a spray bottle filled with water to adjust hydration.

If you can’t get the dough to stick to itself, spritz it with water to add moisture in gradually. At this point, you’ll want to start kneading it on the counter, spritzing as needed to bring the dough together into a smooth ball. If kneaded properly, the dough will change from a mild yellow to a paler cream shade. This usually takes about five to eight minutes. Don’t skimp on the kneading—this is key for the dough to hold its shape. 

After covering it with plastic wrap and giving it a 30-minute rest to relax and hydrate, the dough will be ready to shape into whatever you’d like. Personally, I like making cavatelli or malloredus, two easy shapes that are traditionally made from semolina and water dough. 

The difference between a fresh cavatelli and a dried one is noticeable but subtle—the dried pasta will likely have more bite to it, while the fresh version will be more pillowy and delicate. But making your own pasta at home isn’t really about the end result. It’s about the process. Once you’ve committed to fresh pasta for dinner, there’s no backing out. Put on some music, get to kneading, and piece by piece, you’ll pass the hours with a slightly sore thumb and a tray filling up with gorgeously shaped pasta. Maybe it’s a distraction, maybe it’s escapism, but hey—no matter how dire things are, you still have to eat.

For anyone who is less culinarily inclined but still fresh-pasta curious, you can find a variety of shapes at both Superette (featuring the pastas and sauces served at Mint Mark) or Alimentari‘s new west-side location. Even without the afternoon of processing your feelings through dough, fresh pasta at the dinner table is still a nice escape from the weight of the world.