Pasta Acqua e Farina (Flour-and-Water Dough)
Whole-wheat flour may be used if desired.
Whole-wheat flour may be used if desired.
- Carbohydrate 58 g(19%)
- Fat 1 g(1%)
- Fiber 2 g(8%)
- Protein 8 g(16%)
- Saturated Fat 0 g(1%)
- Sodium 3 mg(0%)
- Calories 279
Step-by-step
- Sift the flour onto a large wooden board. Form the flour into a mound with the approximate profile of Mount Fuji. Form your hand into a loose fist, and, with the back of the fingers, gently ream out the center of the mound until you have something that resembles a low, broad volcano with a very deep crater. Italian cooks call this a fountain, fontana, for the pool of liquid in the center, but it's definitely a cone.
- Pour about half the water into the crater; add more water gradually as needed. Incorporate the liquid from the center outward. The walls of the crater will keep the liquid from running out.
- When the liquid has absorbed enough flour that you now have a messy, wet dough surrounded by flour, knock what's left of the volcano in toward the center and begin to knead with your hands to incorporate the rest of the flour into the dough. Scrape up all the remaining flour and the dough bits and squeeze them into the dough.
- Put all the ingredients in the container of a food processor fitted with the steel blade (not pastry hooks or the like). Let rip at high speed until you see crumbs forming. Keep going until the dough forms a ball. You may become convinced that your dough will never form a single ball, only many little ones. In that case, give up because you risk overheating the dough. Pour what you have out on the wooden board; use your hands to form the pieces into a single loaf of dough.
- The biggest mistake people make, says Oretta, is not using enough force. Skip the gym the day you make pasta and make kneading your workout. The women of Scandriglia, where Oretta has her country house, recommend making fettuccine as a remedy for backache in preference to those boring exercises. On the other hand, my friend Antonietta, who learned to make pasta as a child in Basilicata, tells me southern men enjoy watching the undulating hips of southern women as they knead the pasta dough. If it helps to put on some music and do the maccheroni mambo as you knead, go right ahead.
- Plant your feet firmly on the floor and the heels of your hands firmly on the dough in front of you. A dining table will usually be a more comfortable height than a kitchen counter, which may be too high. With all your strength, and leaning in with your whole body, push the dough forward hard with the heel of one hand, then with the heel of the other hand. Then fold it over and continue the movement, alternating hands—or whatever works for you. You're pushing the whole piece of dough forward, so it moves on the board.
- After each completed movement, give the dough a quarter turn and repeat. Keep this up for 30 minutes, or as long as you can stand. If you've used the food processor, 15 or 20 minutes will do. You can quit early, too, if you plan to use a rolling machine: send the dough through one extra pass for each minute of kneading saved.
- As you work, the dough may seem dry, but you don't want it to be wet and sticky. It needs just enough moisture to hold it together, not a drop more. If your dough is so dry that you are quite sure it will never hold together, you can add a teensy bit of water. Your goal is a single smooth loaf of dough that is not sticky to the touch. If the flour is either very freshly ground (hence moister) or very old (drier), you'll have to adjust by feel. When it feels just right—moist but not tacky, considerably drier than the average dog's nose—set it aside for a moment.
- You'll probably need to clean the board about halfway through the process. Use a plastic scraper or the blunt side of a large knife to scrape up any bits that have stuck to the board. (Sharp knives may damage your nice wooden board, and their edges are dulled by scraping.) Likewise wash your hands, which are doubtless also encrusted with bits of dried dough by this time.
- Once you have a beautifully silky loaf of dough, let it rest for 30 minutes to let the gluten develop. Wrap it in foil, or just place it on the board and invert a bowl over it until you're ready. By this time, you probably need to put your feet up too.
- When the dough and you have rested, you can proceed to the next stage. Depending on what kind of pasta you want to make, this may involve rolling and cutting to make a pasta sheet (sfoglia) or pulling pieces directly from the loaf of dough and shaping them by hand.
Pasta Acqua e Farina: A Simple Joy
There's a certain satisfaction that comes from making pasta from scratch. It's more than just a meal; it's an experience, a connection to generations past. For me, the rhythmic kneading, the feel of the dough transforming under my hands, it's a form of meditation, a welcome break from the daily grind. This recipe for Pasta Acqua e Farina, or flour-and-water dough, is my go-to. It's simple, elegant, and incredibly rewarding.
The beauty of this pasta is in its simplicity. Just flour and water, yet the result is a dough that’s surprisingly versatile. You can use it to create endless shapes: delicate fettuccine, plump ravioli, or even sturdy tagliatelle. The possibilities are as limitless as your imagination. And while some recipes call for eggs, I find the purity of this flour and water combination allows the true taste of the wheat to shine through. The texture is slightly chewy, with a subtle, earthy flavor that perfectly complements a variety of sauces.
I often make this pasta on weekends when I have a little extra time. It's a perfect activity for a relaxed Sunday afternoon, maybe paired with a good book and a cup of coffee. The process itself is meditative, a nice counterpoint to the often frantic pace of my life. The aroma of fresh pasta filling the kitchen is a delightful bonus.
But it doesn't have to be a weekend-only treat. With a little planning, it’s easy to incorporate into even the busiest weeknight routine. Prepare the dough in the morning or the night before, and the rolling and cutting only takes a few minutes before cooking. It’s a reminder that even on busy days, a little bit of simple joy can make all the difference.
I like to experiment with different flours. Sometimes I use whole-wheat flour for added nutrition and depth of flavor. Other times, I stick to traditional durum wheat for a firmer, chewier pasta. The beauty of this recipe is its adaptability; you can tailor it to your preferences and what you have on hand.
More than just a meal, making Pasta Acqua e Farina is an experience. It's a chance to slow down, to connect with the ingredients, and to create something beautiful and delicious with your own two hands. It's a reminder that the simplest things in life can often bring the most profound satisfaction.
Beyond the simple joy of creating something from scratch, this pasta also embodies a sense of tradition. It connects me to the generations of women who have made pasta before me, passing down the skills and knowledge through time. The rhythmic kneading, the careful rolling, these aren't just steps in a recipe; they are rituals, a connection to a rich culinary heritage.
And the best part? Sharing this pasta with loved ones. There’s something truly special about gathering around a table, sharing a meal made with love and care. The aroma of freshly made pasta, the warmth of shared conversation, these are the moments that truly matter. It’s a testament to the power of simple ingredients and simple gestures.
So, whether you’re a seasoned cook or a complete beginner, I urge you to give Pasta Acqua e Farina a try. You might just discover a new favorite way to unwind, to connect with yourself and others, and to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.
Ingredients:
1 pound (450 grams) sifted durum wheat flour or semolina (semolino di grano duro)
1 cup (200 milliliters) water
extra flour for dusting and adjusting
