Cooking pasta is simple and hence, very easily done wrong. It is best done when accompanied with a thickly accented (of course, Italian) pronouncement of all the ingredients you use. Describe aromas and textures with finger-tip kissesand monosyllabic exclamations and your dish is on its way to being authentic. Roll your eyes at suggestions of using jeera tadka and clap your hands whenever olive oil is mentioned.
You also need to cook.
Although I am not a manageable cook, there is one thing my mother and I share – we talk to our food. Now, this is not mere ramble, I assure you. I need to understand how each ingredient blends and its history. Some veggies don't get along with each other. Some of them are friendly with nearly everyone (like tomatoes). Some have a nasty past and you'd do well to lend them a sympathetic ear. Understand them, talk to them. That is the key to every well-flavoured relationship.This also applies to a non-vegetarian meal. You really need to listen to the chicken breast and realise what its dying wish was: stuffed and cooked in soy sauce or baked with peppers and red wine sprinkled on it. That's the problem with non-vegetarian food; you are always dealing with something that once moved around and had a mind of its own!
Back to pasta. Boil the water and add salt to it (I am told that in the good ol' days, Italians used sea water. People near the Chowpatty beach can do so at their own peril). When the water rolls, slide in the pasta (I use penne as it ends up getting stuffed with the sauce which is a delicate surprise). After about 5-10 minutes you can slide in long strips of red and yellow capsicum (no, they are not the same as differently painted green capsicum. Listen to them) and let the entire thing cook.
While the pasta is getting cooked, start work on the sauce. The sauce is the life breath of pasta; do it right, be nice to the pasta and you have a wonderful meal and a bonus smile on your face while you go to bed.
In a wok, heat a slim slab of butter and while it’s melting, pour in some olive oil (did you say gingely oil? Ma sei pazzo!?) to prevent the butter from browning. A thick, yellow unctuous colloid will be formed soon and when its happy and bubbling, slide in the finely chopped onions (you always slide in ingredients into hot liquids). Saute the onions and when they are just right (like the colour of sunshine through your child’s hair) sprinkle some oregano and rosemary. How much? Listen to them. Rosemary talks to you through your nose. When it’s just right, you'll know. In case you have a cold or a blocked nose, don't cook. Have a bowl of hot soup and watch Oprah instead.
Add some cornflour and stir to avoid lumps. Crushed garlic is best suited for sauces. Place a clove on a hard surface and cover it with the flat side of a butcher's knife (or wooden spatula). Smack it hard but with love. Slide in the crushed garlic and cook for a couple of minutes. Take it off the flame but keep stirring it.
Pour in some fresh cream and keep stirring the sauce. Ensure that the sauce is of a uniform consistency. Once it is smooth and flowing like a silt river at its mouth, put it back on the flame. While stirring, add red paprika and some fresh basil. Sprinkle would be the right word when introducing herbs.
By now, the pasta should be cooked. Pour off the hot water and pour in some cold water on the pasta and capsicum strips. Keep them aside and let them stand. How does one know when the pasta is al dente? You can inspect with a spoon. Slippery soft but not squishy.
While stirring the sauce, sprinkle the shredded cheese (cheddar and not cheese spread) on the sauce. Add little cheese and then stir in order to avoid lumps forming. Once you feel that the added cheese has blended well, add some more. If the sauce is too thick now, you might want to add the diluted cream that was set aside. You didn’t save any? That’s sad.
Drain the pasta, pour the sauce on top and mix well with a wooden spatula. Some people prefer cooking the pasta just short and then cooking it again with the sauce. Somehow it doesn't feel right. It’s like a marriage – both come together fairly complete and the other finishes it. But, you know by now how to listen to your pasta, so follow whatever it says.
Buon Appetito!