PicoBlog

Next week is the start of Passover, otherwise known as The Week of No Pasta, or my annual forced vacation. I used to dread these eight carb-less days, but now I admit I relish them—no recipes to test, videos to shoot, photos to take. Just me and my matzah, and a few days of writing without interruption. But before pasta and I part ways, I’ll be honoring the pre-Passover tradition of feasting on all of the things I’ll soon give up as if I might never eat them again. Growing up, said tradition always consisted of the big three: pizza, pasta, and bread. We’d go to the same restaurant, with the same friends, and order the same things (white pizza, penne alla vodka, garlic bread). And the moment Passover ended, we’d pile right back into the car and do it all over again.

Today’s recipe is inspired by that ritual. But instead of recreating the comforts of my childhood, I asked my adult self, if I could choose to indulge in any (temporary-)farewell-pasta dish, what would it be? If you’ve been here a while, the answer won’t surprise you: something spicy, something garlicky, and something with big, bold noodles. This dish checks all of those boxes.

Oddly enough, my favorite things about this recipe are not actually the pasta, and I’d even argue you could enjoy it without (shhh, let’s discuss this no further). First, let’s talk about the meatballs: What I conceptualized as an adornment quickly became the backbone of this dish, not only because they’re adorably small and exceptionally flavorful, but also because they’re so easy to make I keep thinking I did something wrong. Their small size is inspired by a dish from Abruzzo, particularly the city of Teramo, called spaghetti (or maccheroni) alla chitarra con le pallottine, in which strands of fresh egg pasta, cut on a guitarlike contraption, are served with a slow-cooked tomato-heavy meat sauce and the teeniest, tiniest meatballs I’ve ever seen (think Kix cereal size). In Abruzzo, the ground meat is seasoned simply, usually with Parmigiano-Reggiano and nutmeg, then rolled individually into tiny spheres, fried, and added at the last minute to the 3-hour ragù. Since I’ve already bid my 3-hour ragù era farewell until autumn, I took nearly all of the hands-on labor out of this process and turned to one of my trustiest cooking implements, the sheet pan. And boy oh boy, is this a prime example of low effort and high reward. I’m not sure I’ll make any other meatball again.

The second hit in this recipe’s one-two punch isn’t Italian at all, or even Italian-adjacent. Gochujang, a Korean spicy-sweet fermented chili paste, is an increasingly common kitchen condiment, and one I reach for often to impart complexity. Perhaps my first association with Korean cooking is New York Times food writer Eric Kim and his beautiful book Korean American. Eric has a very popular Gochujang Buttered Noodles recipe that inspired the sauce here, particularly the addition of sherry vinegar, which offsets the gochujang’s sweet heat with a little tang.

This is one of those times I strongly encourage you to riff on the recipe and make it your own. To make this a meal, I threw in some broccoli (broccolini would be nice, too), which always pairs well with seasoned ground meat and spicy things, but is also not necessary if you don’t have it. For the pasta, I opted for wide tubes of paccheri, which I’ll admit wasn’t my best choice. You won’t hear a bad word about paccheri pass my lips, but I do think a smaller tube like rigatoni or calamarata, or perhaps orecchiette, or even a sturdy long pasta like spaghettoni or bucatini would make it much easier to shovel this into your mouth. Between the gochujang, tomato, and vinegar, the sticky, glaze-like sauce has power and bite, so I might suggest more butter or half a cup of heavy cream if you’re looking for something more mellow. And, of course, the meatballs can be made meatless with something like Beyond Meat Italian sausages or Impossible ground beef.

Whatever route you take, I hope you enjoy it—I know this one will be in my arsenal for a long while, whether it’s for a pre-Passover feast, post-Passover celebration, or just any old night of the week.

Serves 4

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