Rigatoni Capricciosi

I have Rosetta Stone, so I know a few things.

My new favorite restaurant is a place downtown called Lé Fresca in the just-above-water cool 2^nd Avenue North corridor that used to be a choosers paradise of wig and discount furniture shops. Now it’s restaurants and lofts but the Uber shift has convinced business owners that parking is no longer a concern, likely making the one valet stand the most profitable enterprise in the district. Members of the one, true, holy, and apostolic church who are visually recognizable to clergy can park in the church lot but for everyone else finding a spot is an exercise in faith.

One of the few things I know is that “le” is the feminine plural definite article in Italian. The plural ending construct, for lack of a better term, of most feminine nouns, at least those covered by Rosetta Stone through Week 5, Day 3 is to replace the final letter “a” with an “e” unless the final letter is already an “e.” In that case you leave it “e.” So a feminine noun, say “la donna,” becomes plural by changing the “a” in “le” and the “a” in “donna” to “e” so you get “le donne”: the women.

Having been initiated into the mysteries I couldn’t help but notice that “Lé Fresca” seems to have gone rogue. By my reckoning it should have been either “Le Fresce” or “La Fresca.” According to the owner, it’s slang.

When he was a kid in Verona, people would say “Le Fresca” when someone expected credit for realizing something obvious to everybody else the way we’d say “No kidding?” The grammar’s intentionally mangled for sarcastic effect but the meaning is “Oooh! That’s fresh!” pointing out the keen observational skills of the intended. It’s “Duh!” but with your hands. My inference is that everything at his restaurant is fresh and handmade because of course it is.

I didn’t ask about the accent mark. The truth is that I didn’t because it slipped my mind when we were speaking but I’ll pretend I left it out there as an ornamental intrigue. I don’t need to know how the sausage is made.

Last Tuesday my wife and I tried butternut squash ravioli in a thick butter and sage sauce. They crumbled an almond cookie over the top. I would have never come up with that, but it was fantastic. We shared carpaccio, my wife had chicken involtini with a Romesco sauce – there was something different about that sauce that I haven’t figured out but when I do my old Romesco recipe is out the window – and I had pork Milanese with polenta and collards. We finished with the olive oil pound cake with blueberry compote.

I have an annoying quirk where I identify a restaurant with a dish. Gus’s is where you find the best chili dog, Bottega’s salad Niçoise is hard to beat, when there was a Highland’s Bar and Grill I’d recommend anything with quail, and if we’re in the vicinity of Sam’s Deli I want the gyro. Tuesday was my first visit to Lé Fresca where we didn’t get the Pizza Capricciosa. Usually, we’ll at least get one for the middle of the table, but this time there wasn’t room – in us or on the two-top. As good as everything was and as happy and full as I was when we left, I felt a lost-opportunity emptiness in the following days best expressed by sad cellos.

The Capricciosa is not original to Lé Fresca. It’s a Pizza Quattro Stagioni made by someone who’s never been in the army, which means it’s a classic Italian go-to pizza inspired by another classic Italian go-to pizza. “Quattro stagioni” means “four seasons” so the pizza is divided into quarters with each section topped differently; one with prosciutto and olives for winter, artichokes for spring, tomatoes and basil for summer, and mushrooms for fall. The Capricciosa, which means “capricious,” takes those same ingredients and tosses the military style food segregation out the window. All the seasons are mixed together and it’s delicious.

I make pasta for lunch every Sunday so with the cellos still resonant, I took the Capricciosa ingredients and made pasta sauce. Prosciutto is fine baked in a saltimbocca but it can seize up in sauce. I went with pancetta instead. The package we had was cut to a smaller dice than I would have chosen but it worked. The little bits clung to the rigatoni well and I’ll be looking for that same tiny cut next time.

I don’t see much point in but the loosest measurements for this recipe. If you like more or less of anything listed, use more or less of it. Everything’s to taste. For reference, I was cooking for two in the photos below.

Rigatoni Capricciosi

• pancetta, about 2 oz. diced
• 3-4 garlic cloves, minced
• artichoke hearts, torn
• cremini mushrooms, sliced
• black olives, halved
• basil leaves, torn
• whole canned tomatoes, drained and torn – I used a little over half of a 28 oz. but a 14 oz. can should be fine
• red pepper flakes
• salt
• olive oil
• parmesan or similar

This goes pretty quickly.

Start with a few glugs of olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat and add the pancetta.

When the pancetta starts to color add the mushrooms and sauté till they soften.

Add the olives and artichoke hearts and then… you can go ahead and add the tomatoes, garlic, and red pepper flakes too if you want but I like to do things in steps so I can be authoritative and come off as regimented.

If you too like to come off as authoritative and regimented, add the tomatoes, garlic, and red pepper flakes after you stir the olives and artichokes around a few times.

Toss in the basil at the last minute, stir, salt to taste, and serve.

Parmesan or Romano finishes it.

I plan on making this a lot as it was an unmitigated success. Considering the ingredients, that should elicit a “Lé Fresca, Sherlock,” but given the hindsight obviousness of the combination, it was better than expected.

Hope you like it. I also hope I’m right in changing “capricciosa” to “capricciosi” to modify rigatoni. If not, blame Rosetta Stone.