We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
I am not a big fan of pasta dishes anymore (used to be, but have pretty much tired of them - especially with red sauce). Still, a favorite snack for me is pasta with garlic and oil - Pasta Aglio et Olio. Simplest thing in the world.
Tips: For this or any other spaghetti recipe, use thin spaghetti - never the full size. For this recipe, the amount of chopped garlic you use, and the extent to which you brown the garlic, is to your taste. I like tons of garlic and I like it brown. I do it with coarsely chopped Italian parsley, and plenty of it. Plenty of fresh ground pepper too. Lastly, make spaghetti the Italian way, by throwing the spaghetti into the hot saucepan and tossing with the sauce. That's the right way to coat the noodles and heat up the pasta at the same time.
A pal told me at a guys' night out barbecue dinner last night that his favorite pasta is Pasta alla Norma, the hamburger of Sicily. I've never had it.
I learned about it as aglio, olio e peperoncino, with red pepper flakes. Since it features the pasta in the genuine Italian way, its a good way to try better (more expensive) noodles. Creamette and Barilla just canít do the dish justice.
Bird Dog ... You just mentioned the staple pasta dish in our house, although with one slight difference. I don't use olive oil in it. Just butter, [one stick per pound of pasta] with the minced garlic lightly browned in it. And a lot of grated parmigiano reggiano sprinkled over it.
One night, back in the day when I associated with opera singers, I was going to take the principals out after the show for a late supper. But the restaurants in Milwaukee close on week nights at eleven P.M. So I brashly invited them back to my apartment to feast on something or other which I hoped might be in my refrigerator. I ended up offering them spaghetti, and butter [always have a lot of that] and garlic [ditto]. The compremario tenor proceeded to show us, and feed us, this delicious dish made quickly on the spot, accompanied by a tossed salad.
When I married my Texan, I found that he was highly allergic to tomatoes, which automatically lets out a lot of pasta dishes, so we settled on this one, a quick, delicious solution after a day of sailing or racing.
We still have it once a week. And we still love it. And you are absolutely right. I always use angel hair spaghetti, not regular.
D ... I studied classical singing for about twenty years,back in the 1950s and 1960s with a wonderful voice teacher, Mrs. Clara Bloomfield, who also taught such folk singers as Burl Ives as well as opera singing. I was a professional folk singer during that time, and had a folk song program on WTMJ-TV. Because I was involved in music and study in Milwaukee, I also knew many other singers, both folk and opera, who were also students of Mrs. B.'s, and when the Florentine Opera Company would present operas, some very fine opera singers would come and play the principal roles. I got to know some of these folks, like Jon Crain and others, while I acted as a prompter backstage at the Pabst Theatre.
It always surprised me that the Florentine Opera Guild did not make arrangements to feed these hardworking stars after the show. As you undoubtedly know, singing is very hard work. After you've sung Madame Butterfly or The Magic Flute for three or four hours, you feel as if you've been loading freight on the docks, and you're both tired and hungry. So I tried to see to it that before the singers went back to their hotels to rest, they at least were fed and praised and appreciated. Kind strokes for good folks, I always thought of it.
You know, the sad thing is that sixty years later,, I can no longer remember the name of the Italian tenor who taught me this recipe. Shame on me.