“Paying attention to little details makes you a good cook,” she
explains as she hands me a stone mortar and pestle and asks me to
mash some roasted butternut squash.
This is the filling for her famous tortellini, and it’s all about the
little details. To this mixture, Nosrat adds chopped sage, grated
Parmesan, brown butter, and crushed amaretti cookies. She tastes
and announces, “I’m going to take it a little further: a little saltier, a
little sweeter.”
Once the filling is done she has to make room for the pasta
machine. Bowls and plates are moved to her counter, dishes are
shifted around in the sink, and soon we’re rolling pasta.
Everything happens in one fluid motion, which is the secret to
making things work in a small kitchen: keep it moving, keep it
shifting, and food will be made.
When it comes to making her pasta dough, Nosrat is a master.
To a large bowl, she adds double-zero flour from Italy (“It has an
incredible softness,” she explains) and applies her general ratio
(really just a starting point): one cup flour to one egg to one yolk.
There’s no olive oil, no salt; she likes her pasta pure, like they
make it in Italy.
Using her hands, she brings the dough together. “I already know
I’m going to make this wetter,” she says and asks me to separate
another yolk. We continue to add yolks until the dough comes
together into a beautiful golden ball.
“Wetter is better,” she says. “If it’s too dry, it will crack.”
From there, Nosrat feeds the dough through her machine, and