I’ve been working on my pesto recipe for a few decades but I’ve never been 100 percent satisfied. Sometimes I make it in a mortar, like you’re supposed to, but it seems to discolor more with that method. Sometimes I blanch the basil leaves for a few seconds to keep the color, a trick I learned from chef Michael Chiarello, who also adds a pinch of ascorbic acid for the same reason. But that always seems a bit like cheating. Recently, perusing a new Italian cookbook, I saw another approach that intrigued me.
Pasta Grannies by Vicky Bennison is the companion book for a YouTube series that my husband and I have become addicted to while in lockdown. We used to have conversations over dinner. Now we prop open the iPad on the kitchen island every evening and meet a new elderly grandma or two…or three (I’m telling you, it’s addictive) as they demonstrate, from their cramped home kitchens, a classic pasta shape of their region.
We are captivated by these women and their skill. Many are in their 80s, some in their 90s (the oldest, Letizia, was 100 when filmed), and it is a joy to watch them, with their gnarled hands, stooped backs and arthritic fingers, as they crack orange-yolked farm eggs into flour, knead a shaggy mess into silky balls and maneuver enormous, floppy sheets of dough.
Proud wife:: Doug’s trofie
Bennison, who lives part-time in Italy, dreamed up the project and tracked down these adorable grannies who continue to make pasta shapes almost nobody knows. Last month, for a surprise birthday present, I bought my husband the cookbook (which, by the way, just won a James Beard Award). The first shape he tackled is probably one of the hardest, the trofie, a specialty of Liguria. He’s not as fast as Rosetta, the granny who makes them on camera, but he’s nailed the technique.
Pesto is the classic sauce for trofie and Rosetta’s pesto calls for prescinseûa, a fresh Ligurian cow’s milk cheese described as resembling a cross between ricotta and Greek yogurt. I had some Blackberry Farms Brebis , a lemony fresh sheep cheese, in my fridge, so I used that as my prescinseûa replacement. Fabulous! The pesto was creamy, with vibrant color and a subtle sour-cream tang. I made it again with Calabro hand-dipped ricotta and loved it, although it was sweeter, without the cultured-milk tang. Next time, if I use ricotta, I’ll add a spoonful of Greek yogurt.
You don’t need handmade trofie to enjoy this luscious pesto. Dried linguine will do just fine.
Pesto with Ricotta
Rosetta makes her pesto in a blender, to my surprise, so I followed suit. I’ve adapted my recipe from hers in Pasta Grannies by Vicky Bennison (Hardie Grant Books). You can halve this recipe, although it’s a little harder to get the blender to puree a small batch.
Rosetta & granddaughter | Photo by Emma Lee
2 tablespoons pine nuts
1 clove garlic, sliced
¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, plus more if needed
6 cups basil leaves, loosely packed
½ cup whole-milk ricotta
½ cup freshly grated pecorino romano
Sea salt
Put the pine nuts, garlic, olive oil, basil and ricotta in a blender and blend until smooth. You may have to stop the blender several times and poke the basil down into the oil and ricotta. Everybody’s interpretation of “loosely packed” is different, so if you need a little more oil to create a puree, add it now. Transfer the smooth pesto to a bowl and stir in the pecorino and salt to taste. If not using immediately, place a sheet of plastic film on top to prevent oxidation.
Makes about 1-1/2 cups, enough for 2 pounds of pasta