Zimmer: Pasta Puttanesca & the Quieter Hours...

21

Amelia had set her alarm for earlier that morning. She rose while it was still dark out, the sun not yet risen. She was keen to crack on with her illustrations for the children’s book.

The deadline for the competition was any day now.

She fixed herself up an espresso and set out all she would need at the coffee table, sitting cross legged on the floor on a throw pillow.

She would need to head into town later for ingredients for dinner as Renate had invited herself over for a mysterious private dressing and Amelia had insisted that she would rustle something up for them in the kitchen. But that was a matter for later. For now, Amelia thrust herself into the illustrative work until peckish, the light of day peeping out, she rose to fix herself a slice of panforte from the day before and another espresso. Returning to her seat at the coffee table she had to admit she was making swifter work of it than she’d thought and was pleasantly surprised.

Three hours passed as if no time at all until Amelia thought to shower and get ready for town. She’d decided on a relatively simple dish, but she would be making the pasta from scratch for the first time. She went over the page for the recipe carefully, making a note of the ingredients she would have to get and what she already had at home.

Pasta Puttanesca (or ‘Slutty pasta’)

The early beginnings of puttanesca are many, just as the sources and scholars who have tried to trace the first inventive chef who began to call this spicy dish ‘puttanesca’. Originally, it was called ‘alla marinara’. The current name began to appear after World War II. Some say that the name originated in the brothels of the Spanish Quarters (whore is ‘puttana’ in Italian, hence puttanesca) where working women used the scent to lure male companions for the evening.

Others claim it was invented in the 1950s in a famous Ischia restaurant one late night when a group of hungry customers asked the owner, who didn’t have many ingredients left, to make “una puttanata qualsiasi,” that is, to throw together whatever ingredients he had, to make something simple. The owner only had some tomatoes, olives and capers, the base for the sauce, and that’s how he came up with the puttanesca sauce. Some indeed say the modern name of this preparation refers to pasta ‘prepared as it comes’, that is, easy to cook, without frills or complicated preparation.

Puttanesca sauce is simple and traditionally made with black Gaeta olives, capers, garlic, chilli pepper, oregano, tomatoes (with the addition of tomato paste), olive oil and, at the end, fresh parsley. Puttanesca, like many culinary specialties of Campania, has become popular also in the neighbouring Lazio, where it’s made with the variant of salted anchovies. You can merrily add anchovies if you so wish. Though the ideal pasta for puttanesca sauce is linguine or vermicelli, spaghetti and penne are also widely used. Personally, I think go big or go home, and as such I always lovingly make my own linguine at home. This meal is an ideal one to whip up after a long day and as for its namesake, I’m sure you will find it delectably seductive from the very first bite!

For the dough itself, Amelia made sure she had everything at hand.

300g of white bread flour

3 teaspoons of olive oil

3 medium eggs

(ideally free-range or organic, as Bellamy advised only the best quality sufficed)

That seemed simple enough, she mused to herself as she readied to saunter down into town by foot, for a beauty of a day it was indeed, perfect for taking a leisurely stroll to acquire the scattering of ingredients for dinner with Renate.

Once home, she kneaded the dough and left it wrapped in clingfilm for half an hour, before running it through the machine. Feeling still too wet, she added a little bit more flour as per Bellamy’s instructions, so that it wouldn’t stick to the machine when rolling it out. The linguine ready, she hung it on a wooden contraption Tal had made for her for this very purpose.

There, she concluded, that would do until the final preparations for the sauce later that evening.

Removing her apron and cleaning off her hands of any residue dough, she returned to the matter of her illustrations, getting so very lost in her work that she entirely forgot to eat lunch. Suddenly, the clock struck five o’clock and her stomach growled in revolt. She sliced another helping of the panforte and had one last espresso, putting the Sangiovese aside to chill slightly in the fridge, ready for dinner later.

She changed into her cropped blouse and high waisted denims, though still barefoot, as Renate would be arriving any moment. It was such a warm day that Amelia couldn’t bear the thought of shoes and hoped Renate wouldn’t mind.

Renate arrived soon enough, dressed in a long, vibrantly lemon yellow v-neck silk and viscose dress, with an elegant and none too revealing slit up the side, her feet in flat, patent leather pumps of a deep and moody red. As per always, she was stunning in her pared down elegance, though a little playful. Her arms were laden with carefully wrapped gift boxes, piquing Amelia’s curiosity.

“Dahling!” she exclaimed. “It is so very good to see you!” She pecked Amelia on each cheek, before coming in and laying her boxes down on the sofa.

She picked up Amelia’s handiwork for the day, still scattered around the coffee table.

“But, dahling, these are most excellent! You are a fine talent indeed! Such a perfect likeness... Not that I know much about it, but I am certain you will win... How can you not? Just look at these! Hah!”

“Well, I’m not overly confident about winning. But I guess, that hasn’t entirely been the point... But to rather kindle an old love of mine, and one I hope I will become better acquainted with and more committed to with time. What I do now, sure it pays the bills. But my mom left me something of my past to remind me that I am so much more than that. So hopefully this would’ve made her happy. At any rate, it’s brought me joy and I suppose that’s what matters most, don’t you think?”

“Oh, entirely! Pursue your passions... It was what I was forever drumming into my children. Dear souls. But never, however you choose to pay the bills, as you say, let that dampen and extinguish those smaller things that bring you closer to happiness and kindle the spark. But now, before you get all messy in the kitchen, there is a matter of a fitting that I have planned for you. I do so hope you like what I have chosen...” And with that, she handed over the boxes to Amelia and shooed her off to her bedroom to change.

Amelia emerged moments later in a pale pink tulle and nylon dress of a strapless bodice and full skirt just above her knees, as if an utterly charming prom dress from a bygone era. Upon her feet, she wore a pair of silver glitter Miu Miu Mary Jane’s with a pointy toe and block heel and sky blue leather trimmings and buttons. In her hand hung a small box-like Gucci bag with a solid chain for a handle and floral and red leather detailing. She presented herself to Renate feeling at once bashful but also absolutely pretty in pink. She felt like a little sugar plum fairy in this get-up.

“Bravo! Absolutely perfect! With the addition of your new bracelet, that’s all you need... A perfect fit indeed! You will be a hit at my upcoming garden party... There is a little surprise that will be unveiled at my party and I want you to look like a thousand bucks, as they say, as no less is expected of our honoured caterer... That is if you are still up to the challenge? My children, Pierre and Brigitta, will be down visiting too, so I hope it’s not too overwhelming for you?”

“Oh no, not at all,” Amelia assured her. “I’m honestly only too flattered that you’d find me worthy. I simply can’t wait. Should we go over the finer details with a glass of vino? I have a red chilling... Let me just quickly change out of all this finery in case I spill! What do you say?”

The menu for Renate’s party all agreed to and the matter sorted, it was on to preparing dinner. Bellamy had advised that fresher pasta needed less time to cook and should be readied at the very last few minutes to ensure that it was still al dente. She sautéed the garlic and chilli pepper in a little bit of olive oil. She then added the diced anchovies, chopped tomatoes, tomato paste, black olives and capers before stirring in the drained pasta and sprinkling with the chopped parsley.

“Mmm... I do enjoy a classic puttanesca,” Renate gushed. “And this Sangiovese is just the perfect accompaniment. Delightful, dahling! My soul feels all the more alive with such a feast, is it not so?”

Amelia nodded her head in enthusiastic agreement, twirling another mouthful onto her fork. She could eat like this every day, excusing herself to her guest as she had to admit her more comfortable old faithful Calvin Kleins were calling her, her buttons popping after the hearty meal in her high waisted denims.

“Ah the things we do for the food we love!” Renate laughed and clapped her hands.

Dinner plates all cleaned, and another glass of red wine later, and Renate had to leave, telling Amelia she still had a few last minute undertakings for her dinner party to whittle away at. Amelia was grateful too for she intended to continue with her children’s book until it was nigh done, leaving only a few minor details to touch upon before she submitted it.

Amelia continued to paint until the dawn of a new day was imminent, daylight sneaking up on her. She loved these quieter hours at times, when all the world was asleep. It reminded her of a poem they had done in school, ‘The Thought Fox’ by Ted Hughes. That creative process whereby one began with a white page, entirely blank, and through one’s own craftsmanship, a poem, a verse, a story, an illustration, began to take shape until the page was filled in and no longer the utterly devoid canvas it had once been, bursting with potential all the same, but finally evidence of ingenuity, of art.

She decided to clean her brushes and retire to her room, where Ailuros was curled up on the pillow to the left side of the bed. Sneaking stealthily into the right side of the bed, Amelia set her alarm to wake in a few hours’ time. There was simply nothing for it. The day was fast approaching that she’d have to dedicate to the menu for Renate’s garden party for everything to be just right and there wasn’t a moment to lose beyond a short cat nap. It would be light enough soon so she closed the curtains to keep those few hours of encroaching sunshine at bay. Resting her head on her pillow, she dozed off peacefully, exhausted.

Soon she began to dream. Her mother and her grandfather and grandmother were all dancing with her in a vast field again of red poppies. My Fair Lady was playing from somewhere off in the distance, but resounding all the same. I could’ve danced all night... They held hands in a circle and round and round they went, swapping partners in a twirl, laughing and singing all the while until plain tuckered out they would collapse in the mesmerising field of flowers.

In those dreaming hours, her grandmother was no longer beset with the burden of cancer, and her mother was as alive as she’d ever been and bursting with life and youthful beauty, and her grandfather was as vital as ever with every inch of his wits about him, and it was as if all they had gone through together, all the hardships they’d faced, had been nothing but a bad dream far, far away. Though she was completely unaware and in distant fields, Amelia smiled in her sleep. Contented. At home with those she loved. Just like old times. And just as they’d risen one last time to dance, her alarm buzzed, leaving her to wake suddenly, the frayed edges of sleep still stirring at her consciousness.

Sitting at the patio table with her first espresso for the morning, Ailuros jumped up to join her. Somewhat absentmindedly, she stroked the purring feline. She was still thinking on her dream. In rapt contemplation, remembering days gone by.

“I miss you all so very much,” she spoke aloud. “But I promise I’m going to be okay now.”

(If you would like to support this labour of love resplendent with recipes, you can purchase a copy of Zimmer here: https://www.amazon.com.au/Zimmer-Jocelyn-Fryer-ebook/dp/B09BCTYG9T)

Still Life by Sarah Lamb