“Teach me dirty words” said Alessandro with a twinkle in his eyes and a wicked smile on his face.  “That way when I am mad, I curse in English and no one will know what I say.”

“Um,” I replied awkwardly. “I don’t know any dirty words. I’ll ask the boys when I get home if they know any.”   I was hoping he wouldn’t ask me again the next day.

“Do you want me to teach you how to curse in Italian?” he offered.

“No, thanks.  I don’t curse too often,” I answered.

Alessandro was making a large cauldron (as big as a washtub!) of macaroni and cheese for the employee meal.  Normally, it would be baked in the oven, but we were doing it on top of the stove.  I helped stir the pasta while he made the bechamel sauce.

In the afternoon, we made pasta dough in the big stand mixer.  Alessandro carried the dough over to the pastry sheeter and said.

“Do you remember how it works?  You try it.”

I stepped up to the machine and reached for the handle on the side that was like a long joy-stick.  I pulled it back and the dough went under the rollers and came out the other side.  Then I pushed the handle forward and the dough came back on the conveyor belt to where I was standing.

“Remember to lower the press each time you send it through,” he explained.  “Call me when you are done and I will help you wind it on the rolling pin so we can take it back to the marble table and make the ravioli and cannelloni.”  He left me with the machine.

This didn’t look hard.  I could do it.  I lowered the press one notch and pulled back on the joy stick.  The conveyor belt took the dough under the press.  I pushed it forward and the dough came back to greet me.  Lower the press, pull back on the handle.  Opps!  A little too hard.  The dough went flying under the press, off the end of the conveyor belt, hit the oven on the other side and fell in a lump to the floor just as Alessandro came back to check on me.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, shook his head and muttered something I couldn’t understand as I deposited the dough in the trash can.

That afternoon as I emerged from the employee entrance of the hotel, one of the valets asked if I’d like a ride down to Amalfi.  He drove a Mercedes and operated the shuttle service that took hotel guests into town on the half hour.

“I am an employee,” I protested.  I” don’t think I should ride in the van.”

He looked at me admiringly and said, “You are wearing street clothes now.  You don’t look like an employee and it is okay.”

So, I climbed in for a ride to the village and got there early enough to browse through some of the gift shops before catching my bus.  I selected some bottles of deep green olive oil, ceramic spoon rests decorated with hand-painted lemons and heavenly lemon-scented soap to take home to my family and then headed back to Positano.

The Chinese made noodles as far back as 3,000 B.C . An excavation of a fourth century B.C. Etruscan tomb shows drawings of natives making pasta. Pasta has been a staple for Italian families for generations.  Marco Polo is credited with bringing pasta to Italy after his exploration of the Far East in the 13^th century.

A virtually fat free and salt free food, pasta is low on the Glycemic Index (GI). The Glycemic Index is a ranking of carbohydrates and the effect they have on our blood glucose levels. A low GI carbohydrate is digested more slowly and satisfies hunger longer without increasing blood sugar levels. Pasta is relatively inexpensive to purchase and prepare.

Dried pasta is made using semolina flour, which comes from grinding kernels of durum wheat. Sometimes the semolina is mixed with other flours. It is then mixed with water until it forms sticky dough. Additional ingredients are then added to the pasta, like eggs to make egg noodles, or spinach or tomato to make red or green colored pasta.
The dough is kneaded until it loses its stickiness and is pliable, but not stiff. Then it is fed through a dough sheeter to make flat pasta, like linguini, fettuccini or lasagna noodles.  Or, the pasta is pushed, or extruded, through a die, a metal disc with holes in it. The size and shape of the holes in the die determine what the shape of the pasta will be. For instance, dies with round or oval holes will produce solid, long shapes of pasta, such as spaghetti. Sharp blades rotate beneath the die and cut the pasta to the proper length. Afterwards, the pasta is dried for about 5 or 6 hours using large dryers which circulate hot, moist air and then it is packaged for distribution.

On the day that Brandi and I went to the market, we also stopped at a local grocery store so she could buy some baking supplies.  I noticed that most of the women in the checkout lines were purchasing several types of dried pasta for what appeared to be a week’s worth of groceries.

Most of the pasta we used in the restaurant kitchen was also dried, except for the ravioli, cannelloni, linguine and fettuccini which we made fresh.  One of the shelves above the counter where I usually worked was stacked with packages of the following types and shapes of pasta:

Alfabeto—tiny alphabet letter pasta

Agnolotti—shaped like half moons

Anellini– little rings

Anolini—ravioli in half-moon shape with ruffled edges

Bucatini—long, fat hollow strands like spaghetti

Capelli d’angelo—angel hair pasta; very fine long strands

Castellane—rigid shell shape

Conchigliette- little conch shells

Ditali—small tubes like “thimbles”

Farfalle—bow-tie or butterfly shapes

Fusilli– shaped like a corkscrew

Gnocchetti—small oval dumplings

Maccheroni—little elbows

Mezzi Tubetti—larger hollow tubes

Millerighe– large rigatoni with ribbed sides

Orecchiette—shaped like little “cups” or “ears”

Paccheri– very large tubes

Penne piccolo– small narrow tubes with ends cut on diagonal

Rigatoni—big hollow tubes

Rotelle—small wheels

Rotini– small corkscrews

Sedanini—thin, hollow tubes

Spaghetti—long strands

Spellete- little stars

Tagliarini– similar to linguine with a flat side, but thinner

Vermicelli– similar to spaghetti, but thinner

Generally, you should use thinner pastas with thin sauces and thicker shapes with thicker sauces as the sauce will coat the shape and cling to it better.  Always cook pasta in a large pot of boiling water to keep it from being sticky.  Never add oil to the water or you inhibit the ability of the sauce to cling to the pasta.  Also, it is not necessary to drain the pasta after cooking unless you are going to serve it cold in a pasta salad.  We never drained the pasta we cooked in the restaurant.

One classic pasta sauces is Bolognese (sometimes referred to as Ragù) which may have originated in Bologna, but has spread throughout much of Central and Northern Italy.  It is a rich pasta sauce made primarily from veal, beef, pork, or chicken cut into small pieces. Marinara sauce is made with tomatoes, garlic, onions, parsley and olives but doesn’t use any meat. Another classic sauce is Arrabbiata Sauce which is a spicier tomato sauce made with chile peppers.  Alfredo Sauce is composed of heavy cream or half and half mixed with butter, grated parmesan cheese, pepper, and occasionally nutmeg.

Carbonara Sauce is made with cream, eggs, Parmesan cheese, bacon and peas. Madeira sauce is made from Madeira wine and broth. Puttanesca Sauce is made with garlic, bits of dried chile peppers, capers, and anchovies as key ingredients, and Vodka Sauce typically contains tomatoes, cream, vodka, olive oil, garlic, onions, and pecorino or Romano cheese.

Leftover pasta can be tossed in pesto sauce, olive oil and garlic or can be used to make a frittata.

One morning as I got on the bus, there was an older Italian man standing in the bus doorway checking everyone’s bus tickets.  He was tall and tanned with a handsome face and a thick head of graying hair. I showed him my monthly pass and proceeded down the aisle to a seat on the right hand side of the bus so I could watch the sea while we traveled to Amalfi.

He followed me to my seat and sat down next to me.

“Dovete riempirli destinazione ed il vostri nome e compleanno (You have to fill in you destination and your name and birthday)”, he explained.  No one had ever mentioned this to me before.  He removed a pen from the pocket of his blue shirt and handed it to me with a big smile. I dutifully did as he asked. Then he took the ticket out of my hand and examined it.

“Siete cinquantotto (You are 58)!” he said with a nod of his head.  “Sono cinquantotto anche (I am 58 also),” he beamed.

I just sat there and smiled sheepishly.  I think he was trying to pick me up!

Alessandro was draining a huge pot of steaming potatoes when I entered the kitchen.

“Today I teach you to make gnocchi,” he said.  He loaded the potatoes into the ricer by the sink and instructed me on how to use the machine so I could take over.  The potatoes were strained through a sieve and looked like mashed potatoes (without any lumps) when they came out the other end.

We cleared off a section of the wooden counter top and dusted it with flour.  Then Alessandro looked at my hands and pulled two disposable gloves out of a box labeled “small” sitting on a shelf above the counter.

“Put on,” he instructed.  “Is very messy.”  Alessandro scooped potatoes onto the counter, sprinkled them with flour and punched a well into the top of the mound.  Then he separated eggs and put the egg yolks, salt and pepper into the well.  He let me mush it all together, adding more flour until the dough was stiff.  He kneaded the dough until it was smooth and then sectioned off a portion and rolled it into a long rope.  Using the bench scraper, he showed me how to cut the rope into little “pillows” to make the potato dumplings.  Then he told me to finish shaping the rest of the dough into the gnocchi for the restaurant.  It was going to be used that evening for a dish with onion, bacon and fava beans as the sauce.

Today, I got off early and there wasn’t a bus scheduled to leave for Positano for a couple of hours.  Alessandro was taking his break and offered to drive me, but he only took me as far as the bus stop at Priano – the town before Positano.  I didn’t know how to tell them that I’d still be stuck there until a bus came along, so I just thanked him and decided to walk the rest of the way.  I’d forgotten that the roads were sloped – what a workout! My face was sunburned, but I made the 11 km walk in only 1 hr 45 minutes!