Friday, 20 November 2009

  • Easy Fettuccine Alfredo


    Fettuccine Alfredo
    Cheese, Cream, Butter.  It's so easy to make, it's ridiculous.  Try it.








    I looked up from the stove, and smiled at Chieko and June sitting at the dining table, laughing together by the window ten feet away.


    My hands moved quickly now.  Much more quickly than they did ten years ago.  Stirring the sauce.  Modulating the heat.  Grating the cheese.  Flipping the prawns on the grill.  Checking the loaf of Ciabatta bread in the oven.  Dicing, chopping, mincing, slicing.  Our bottle of wine was uncorked and poured between the three of us, and I took a generous gulp of my favorite Pinot Grigio from my favorite little winery in Napa Valley as I prepared dinner for us.  Ten years ago, this would have been a major production.  But now, it was a simple weeknight dinner for us.

    Tonight, I was making Fettuccine Alfredo by request for June.

    I can never make Fettuccine Alfredo without remembering the very first time I ever cooked for somebody I loved -- cooking for my best friend Katie in my parents shoddy apartment in the ghetto, because she had told me it was her favorite dish and I wanted to make it for her.

    I looked around me.  So much had changed in the last ten years.  I wasn't a poor kid living in the projects anymore.  Instead of a decaying, roach-infested leftover kitchen from the sixties with a half-working range to match; I was standing in my own kitchen in my own place, with granite counter-tops, a hardwood floor, and high-end appliances neatly tucked into their enclosures.  Instead of using my mother's shoddy, scratched up T-Fal cookware, I was using All-Clad everything.  And instead of eating on a flimsy secondhand metal table with a view of the concrete building next door, we were eating on a custom-made Brazilian mahogany table by an expansive floor-to-ceiling window with a view that was spectacular by any standard.

    But Katie wasn't here.  And having Fettuccine Alfredo never seemed right without her.




    * * * * *




    Katie told me she loved it.  In hindsight, it must have tasted horrible, but she told me she loved it anyway. 

    What did I know?  We were just kids then -- fifteen years old; and I was cooking the first thing I ever tried cooking that wasn't instant ramen or chef boyardee.  We had gone to a nice Italian restaurant two weeks earlier, and shared a dinner I could barely afford but I wanted to treat her to anyway.  My parents could never afford that sort of thing then, so I had never been to a place like that before.  She told me she loved Fettuccine Alfredo, and not having the money to take her out like this yet wanting to treat her to what she loved, I told her that I would make it for her.

    I closed my eyes, and for a moment, I could almost hear her voice.  Here, my best friend still here with me.  Still here to have this Fettuccine Alfredo, finally made the way it's supposed to be made.

    I use top-grade Plugra european butter now.  And fresh non-ultra-pasteurized cream.  Fleur de sel.  And Parmigiano Reggiano.  I roll out and cut my Fettuccine by hand now, because this dish needs fresh-made pasta.

    Katie was kind to me then, telling me that she loved the first Fettuccine Alfredo I ever made, with margarine, milk, sawdust parmesan in a green can, and cream cheese.  I scorched the sauce, it was clumpy and watery, and the pasta clung together, half-cooked in places and over-cooked in others.  She knew better, but it didn't matter to her.

    I still remember her face when she put the first twirled fork-full into her mouth.



    No one has ever made that face since.  And I know why.  It's because she never took it for granted.  It's because she knew exactly why I had made it for her --

    -- That I made it for her just because I knew SHE loved it. 

    She knew I couldn't afford much, but I did what I could.  And she knew I didn't know how to cook, but I was trying my damned hardest anyway.  Because I was the only person in her entire life that actually gave a damn about her in a world of dysfunctional people who said they cared but really didn't.



    Today, it doesn't matter what I make.  I could serve a Croquette of Foie Gras and Kogyoku Apple Confit in Black Truffle Demi Glace Reduction, and it would be pedestrian.  Because that's just what people expect from me now.  And I knew that yes, Chieko and June would appreciate the Fettuccine Alfredo that I was making for them by request -- but they would just eat it.  It wouldn't matter that I'm using the best ingredients that money can buy, cooked with the best equipment that money can buy, with hands that money can't buy or that I'm making it because I care for them.

    The love would be there, but they would never feel as loved as Katie did that night eating my disgusting mass of loving slop.




    * * * * *




    This stuff above.  This is all Fettuccine Alfredo is.



    This is the Ninth Week of IReallyLikeFood's Challenge Of The Week Showcase, featuring ingredients and themes which readers and contributors use as a base for creating dishes.

    This Ninth Week, it's a Theme:  Pasta

    If there's any one dish that has significant meaning to me, it's Fettuccine Alfredo.

    It's the first real dish I ever made.  It's also the one dish that holds the most weight for me, because it was also the first dish I ever made that led me to the mantra that I live by now -- that Food = Love; made for the only girl in my lifetime who ever loved me purely, simply, and unconditionally.

    We all begin somewhere when we start to cook.  This is where it began for me; and maybe this is where it will begin for you, reader, as well.

    Fettuccine Alfredo is a simple dish.  Possibly one of the most simple Pasta dishes to make, and yet most people either don't know how, don't try it, or are too afraid to try making it at home.  The fact is, it just takes a few steps:  Cream and Butter together, simmer, then grated Cheese.  And it's done.  Really, it's that simple.

    However, do not substitute ingredients with this dish.  You must use Butter, not margarine.  You must use Cream (or half-and-half), not milk.  You must use a decent fresh-grated Parmesan cheese, not the sawdust-tasting crap in the green can.  You really should use a Fresh Fettuccine from the refrigerated section, not the dried stuff in a box -- it makes a big difference.  You don't have to use Plugra or Fleur de Sel or Parmigiano Reggiano, but the quality will show through if you do because this is such a simple dish. 

    Fettuccine Alfredo is also a good introduction to Cream-based Pasta sauces.  Add some minced garlic, and you have a garlic cream sauce.  Add some pesto, and you have a Creamy Pesto.  Change the cheese even, to Gorgonzola maybe.  Once you make your first Fettuccine Alfredo and realize how easy it is, you'll realize how versatile this basic technique is, and how many different dishes you can make just by changing a little bit or adding a little something more.

    I hope you give this one a try, just so you can see how easy it is to make at home.


    I N G R E D I E N T S:

    1 1/2 Cups Cream or Half-and-Half
    5 Tbsp Unsalted Butter
    1 Cup Freshly Grated Parmesan Cheese
    1lb (500g) Fresh Fettuccine

    Salt and Pepper/ Grated Nutmeg to taste


    P R O C E D U R E:

    Start by boiling your pasta water.




    When the water is at a rolling boil, add a bit of salt and add your Fettuccine.  Stir it around so it doesn't stick.  If you are using Fresh Fettuccine, you only need to boil for about 2 minutes.




    Combine your Cream and Butter in a saucepan or skillet.  Simmer for about 5 minutes, or until slightly thickened.




    Add your grated cheese in a few batches at a time, stirring as you go.  It should melt into the cream as you stir.




    Take your cooked Fettuccine, add it to the Sauce pan, and stir until the sauce is absorbed.  Feel free to simmer it a few minutes longer if you like, but otherwise...
     
    Done.  Easy right?

    Salt / Pepper/ Nutmeg to taste.




    Fettuccine Alfredo is usually served as a Starter dish in Italy in small portions, with grilled meat.  I like mine with some Grilled Prawns.  These are U-15 Tiger Prawns which I've marinated for 30 minutes in garlic, olive oil and chili peppers; and then grilled until just medium-rare.  Yes, that's Galbi up there.  I eat it with that too.



    Plate and Serve immediately, as Alfredo is best eaten immediately.
    Also, I like to crumble Parmesan Cheese off of the block as a garnish.




    * * * * *




    I exhaled a deep breath on my balcony, letting my hands and forearms rest on the wrought iron railing in front of me.

    I looked back in through the window, at Chieko and June doing the dishes in the kitchen.  Chieko, like June's big sister.  June, who reminded me of Katie before we started down into the dark places of this world together, ten years ago.  Before Katie fell.  Before I fell.  When we were pure, innocent beings, like June was, laughing as she flung soap bubbles at Chieko.

    I sighed.  June.  Chieko.  This beautiful home.  I looked down at myself.  The tailored, hand-stitched shirt I wore so casually now would have paid a whole month's rent for my parents back then.  And the watch on my wrist could have paid my father for nearly a year back then, as he worked long difficult hours so that I would have a chance in life.  I would have, then, if I could have.  But life is what it is now, not then. 

    Everything, all of this, every dish I ever cooked and all that I am -- all started there that night, in my parents kitchen in our apartment in the ghetto, with the Fettuccine Alfredo and Katie.  For better or for worse, that dinner changed the course of my life... but I knew all that I had now... it was blood money.  And I hated it.  If it hadn't been for Katie and the Fettuccine Alfredo, I would not be who I was now, where I was, what I was.  But we paid so much for it.  Katie followed me into the deep, dark places of this world, and she paid a toll more costly than mine.  We paid too much for it.

    I wondered, what my life would have been like... what our life would have been like, had we never had our Fettuccine Alfredo that night?

    Love and Aloha, from another time and place.


    Do you have any Foods that have Special Significance to you?  A Food that invokes a memory, or makes you remember a certain time, place, or person?  What, Who or When?

    NOTE:  Read the Comments, there's some really interesting/ cute/ sad/ heartwarming stories being posted there by readers!

Comments (74)

  • chow

    The timeframe of this post is when I was about twenty-five, in a time and place, living a life that seems like a lifetime ago now.

    It's a partial post from "The Last Kiss"; an anonymous blog I was writing as a sort of semi autobiographical memoir of the relationships of my life, some time ago.  I had given up on my life; and wanted to tell the story of my life, anonymously, and then I would just vanish.  The work would end with one last kiss, and that would be it.  I've stopped writing there; and some of the old TLK readers are here reading CHOW now.

    I've had a slew of blogs over the years.  Some anonymous like TLK, and some public.  Before CHOW, there was Thousandthdish.

    Only the oldest readers know that Thousandthdish was a play on Thousandthdream.  Dream was my personal blog, and I kept it side-by-side with Dish.  I stopped writing at Dream a long time ago.  I've been thinking lately that it's time for me to start another personal blog.

    I haven't written much there yet, and I can say that the content will probably -not- be very good; as it will be just my regular personal blog -- but I wanted to invite those of you who would like to know the writer of CHOW better to join me there as well.

    http://arenadi.xanga.com

  • osmundaregalis@xanga

    I admit, I cried reading through this.  The story behind this dish is so sad.  Get some rest and take care, Michael.

  • live_for_love@xanga

    I wanna paint your nails. D:

    Also imma make this. Prolly not until thanksgiving is over though.

  • chow

    @live_for_love@xanga - No!  No painting my nails! 

    @_@

    Maybe you could make it for Thanksgiving?

  • chow

    @osmundaregalis@xanga - Awe D:  *patpat*  Dun cry D:

    This was a long time ago.  Not now :)

    Do you have any specific foods that are significant to you though, I'm wondering?  You especially, since we're both bound by food love.

  • live_for_love@xanga

    @chow - Why noooot? They're very paintable. I'll paint 'em purple and green! :D :D

    And no, we already have too much food lined up for thanksgiving. xD

  • just_the_average_jane@xanga

    @live_for_love@xanga - If you do paint his nails, take a pic! And make them sparkly!

    Your story made me cry.  Now I have to go wash up since I have class, but I will come back and leave a real comment later.

  • imTHEmeowMIXcat@xanga

    @osmundaregalis@xanga - I did too. This was a beautiful post.

  • TheMochaPeach@xanga

    Oh my that was touching..........funny how food has special meaning in our lives...........

  • BaBiixJo@xanga

    yummmm .. i really want some now.

  • anotherdiary@xanga

    your friend's and Kate especially, sound BEAUTIFUL~
    though nothing is ever like the first time of anything- its a profound phenomenon when the priceless things overflow with the most value - everlastingly.

    simple asian styled eggs with tomato. i remember how my mom taught me how to make it way back when i was in 6th grade, and til this day I still can't get it to taste like the way she makes it!
    Thank you for this post, im gonna go ask mama to teach me again.

  • petitetokio@xanga

    You certainly have a way with words...it reminds me of Murakami's Norwegian Wood (but better because there's Fettuccine Alfredo involved)

  • secade@xanga

    Anything matza for me. My family has no roots to our Jewish ancestry beyond food, and we always had german-jewish motza soup with german/polish sausages on Christmas (a little ironic, I know). We haven't really done it since my parents divorce, but even as a kid, every time I ate, I could feel a connection to the hundreds of generations back through time, all the way back to Egyt, when the Jews had no yeast to bake their bread with. I could taste some of the history, and the sorrow, and the joy of the Israelites joy every year at a Christian holiday. It was a strange and beautiful sense of time-distorted cognitive dissonance.

  • NikBv@xanga

    Looks good. I hope you weren't too discouraged by the reception to the seafood on the last pasta dish. You know what they say; there's no accounting for taste.

    And there are tonnes of food that evoke memories from my past, mostly things from my childhood. Too many to describe.

  • osmundaregalis@xanga

    @chow - I know it was a long time ago, but it still made me cry reading it again.  I said again because I had previously read this story when you first directed me to "The Last Kiss" blog.  I actually read through all of your posts, and there were so many stories that made me cry.  My heart just breaks reading them and it makes me wish that you'll find hope again in love, because if anyone deserves it, it would be you. *hugs*


    There are a lot of foods that has special significance to me, especially ones that I had made for someone whom I once loved (which were always my first time), such as omu rice, katsudon, the first cake that I have ever baked for anyone; they all lead to that same person and I remember it like it had just happened yesterday.  That is why I try to avoid making these dishes again (hence I stopped cooking foods that I used to make before) because they bring back memories I wish to forget, so that is one bad thing when you're bound to food love.  Like you, cooking is also a way that I express my love and I have only ever cooked for one person - you know who.

  • Ampbreia@xanga

    A beautiful tale poignantly told and the end result looks really, really, REALLY tasty.  Now you've done it.  Now I'm anxious to serve up fetuccini alfredo and fresh grilled prawns.  I doubt my own family would be nearly so appreciative though.  But still, it looks sooooo tasty!

  • chow

    @osmundaregalis@xanga - Cook for me.  I'll cook for you.  I think it would be therapeutic.

    You know, I couldn't eat or make Tuna Casserole for about three years after The Ex left.  It was the only thing she knew how to make; and it became my favorite dish.  It was plain, just the egg noodles, cream of celery soup, cheese and mayo; but because it was made for me, it was the best thing ever.  I tried making it, and I just gave up.  She wrote out the ingredient list and a short recipe on a small piece of paper and tacked it to the magnetic board on our refrigerator.  It's still there, on that board.  It doesn't carry any more weight with me though.  I've been able to make it again in the past year.  For someone so intimately connected to Food Love, it was a significant thing for me to be able to cook the dish that I never cooked, but used to be made for me.

    *hugs* back.

    It's a painful thing, I know.  For people who don't understand Food Love, it makes no sense.  But it really is like opening up an old wound.  Until the day that we're actually okay with going back.  I think the first time you make Katsudon again and feel okay will be a milestone for you.  We need to cook for each other. <3

  • chow

    @Ampbreia@xanga - Thank you :)

    You know... I had a conversation with my own mother recently; where she told me she was surprised I knew how to cook many of the things she made me when I was a child; because she never taught them to me.  I told her that even though she never taught me, I watched her from time to time even when I had no interest in cooking -- and when I was away in another part of the country, I remembered her food and learned it.  She told me that she never knew I actually appreciated the food she made.  The truth was, that I did.  I just didn't say anything.

    My point is, even if your family doesn't say it or seem to appreciate it, I think they do.  Especially in your absence.  About a month ago, a fellow reader here, ElusiveWords, posted an entry about his mother's cooking; and about how much he missed it, especially since she passed away and he never learned to cook those dishes.  It was a very touching entry, the only one I ever recommended.  It's here:

    http://elusivewords.xanga.com/714856928/the-kitchens-soul/

    If anyone is interested.

  • scorpiontattoo@xanga

    I remember this post from TLK very well. When I read it, I think my heart kind of skipped a beat. I didn't cry though - it was just more in an "understanding" of sorts. Not eerie, just a note that there's something much deeper there than even those beautiful words could express.


    I don't have any special dishes, since I don't cook much, yet... but I'm sure I'll know soon enough. I want to know.


    Thank you for sharing!

  • chow

    @NikBv@xanga - I think that last Pasta dish was the biggest reception-fail post I've ever made.  The thing is about that dish though, is that it actually tastes really good.  I had to get that thing off of the front page though, with that high of a fail rate.  I'd actually written this Fettuccine Alfredo post on the 12th, and was holding it; then decided to make the seafood pasta dish at the last minute.

    I realized two things:  A lot of readers don't like seafood.  Unfortunate, since this is my specialty =/; and even the ones that do... don't like whole prawns with the head on.

    I think you'll like the next ones though.  I'm going to be doing a bunch of quick, short ones for Thanksgiving side dishes.

  • chow

    @scorpiontattoo@xanga - I still think it's intriguing that you and I were writing on two completely different blogs, knew each other; and then started two completely new blogs, and still found each other again and started reading without even knowing that we were the same people :)

    This was a post a long time coming.  Ever since I wrote this for TLK, I wanted to turn it into an actual cooking blog post; so this is pretty significant to me.  I think once in a while I'm going to write TLK-style entries here in CHOW.  I miss writing TLK to be honest, but it's just so sad so many times.

    Even if not cooking though, are there any significant dishes from your past, growing up, that was made for you that has meaning to you?  Mother's cooking?  Grandmother?  An old friend?  Significant other?

  • karmavore

    Music plus story made me cry. 


    My favourite "dish" with the best memories for me, is tea with honey and lemon (though we use agave now). The first time I had ever had tea done this way my fiance made it for me, I was sick and miserable and he put it together and ran outside and captured some sun in it. He called it sunshine tea, and the extra sun in it was supposed to make me better. From then on he would capture sun whenever he made the tea as silly as it was, or if there was no sun he would tell me to smile into the cup because my smile was like sunshine.
    The first food he ever made for me that was so important (because he doesn't cook at all) was that he made me macaroni for when I got home from work one day. It was terrible. He had over salted the water so badly that the noodles may as well have been boiled in the ocean. I ate a few bites, but we ended up going out for dinner, I will never forget it though because he tried. He wanted to take care of me and surprise me when I got home and he was so excited. He really had tried. And that is very special to me.
  • chow

    @secade@xanga - I actually really like the soup you're talking about.  I also like Matzoh.  You know how you're very into the K-culture?  I was like that for some time with the Jewish culture.  I was convinced at a time that I was going to end up marrying a Jewish girl.  When I was up in Chicago, preparing to move there, I was a pretty happy guy. 

    There was a time in my life even, when i went completely ascetic and consumed nothing but matzoh and water for sustinence.  It sounds crazy, but it was one of the best times in my life.  I just lack the discipline to live that kind of ascetic life.

  • osmundaregalis@xanga

    @chow - I wanted to ask you about that when you mentioned in your sms that you were going to make it, but I decided not to.  I'm glad that you are able to look beyond and let go of the past and be able to eat and make tuna casserole.  If there was someone out there that I would wish to cook for again, it would be you. <3  In fact, that chocolate souffle I had made; I was going to dedicate it to you, but unfortunately, it was a big fail.  I hope someday I could make it for you in person (hopefully it turns out okay) and we could watch it rise together. =)

  • chow

    @imTHEmeowMIXcat@xanga - @TheMochaPeach@xanga - @BaBiixJo@xanga - Thank you guys :)  I'm curious though, is there any kind of food from your past, growing up (or later) that anyone has ever made for you that has meaning to you?  Something your mother or grandmother used to make?  A friend?  A significant other?

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