Best 2 Maccheroni Alla Chitarra Recipes

MACCHERONI " ALLA CHITARRA"

Maccheroni

This spicy recipe comes from the Province of Teramo, Abruzzo, Italy and the "chitarra" (guitar string-shaped pasta), is made with an 'instrument' shaped like a guitar that is easy to find in any market in Abruzzo. I am posting this dish from Abruzzo as part of the Food, Friends, and Family game. None of the other Italian recipes already posted here reflect the special foods created in this region on the south west coast. NOTE*** The original recipe didn't say if the lamb and pork were ground or chopped so you can prepare it according to your choice. If you do not happen to own one of the "chitarra" guitar shaped instruments for cutting, just cut the pasta into long narrow strips which are about 24 inches long. The flavors will be the same.

Provided by CarrolJ

Categories One Dish Meal

Time 2h

Yield 6 serving(s)

Number Of Ingredients 14

Ingredients

3 cups flour, plus
1 tablespoon flour
6 eggs (1 egg per person)
1 cup lamb (ground or chopped)
1 cup lean pork (ground or chopped)
2 quarts canned peeled tomatoes (64 ounces)
1 teaspoon butter
1 cup olive oil
1/2 cup chopped onion
1/2 cup chopped carrot
1 teaspoon salt
1 hot red chili peppers, chopped fine or 1 teaspoon dried chili pepper flakes, sauteed in
3 tablespoons olive oil, and strained, keeping the oil to add to the finished pasta
freshly grated parmesan cheese (quantity optional)

Steps:

Place the meats, tomatoes, butter, oil, onion and carrot into a large pan and cook over medium-low heat about an hour stirring occasionally.
While the sauce is cooking place the flour in a mound onto a board which has a depression on the top into which the eggs have been placed; or place into a bread machine on the dough setting, removing after kneading is finished.
Knead the pasta dough, for about 35-40 minutes if making by hand.
Roll out the completely kneaded dough into a large sheet, or use a pasta machine to roll out if you are fortunate enough to have one.
Cut the sheet into 8 x 24 inch rectangles.
Lay each rectangle length-wise over the"chitarra" and push down on each one with the rolling pin to make the macaroni, OR cut into narrow strips so that it looks like something between spaghetti and a narrow fettuccine noodles.
Bring water to a boil in a large pot.
Add the salt to the water.
Add pasta and boil until they float to the top of the pot or is cooked until ala'dente.
Drain and rinse the pasta with cold water.
Add sauce to the pasta immediately.
Before serving add the few drops of oil in which the hot pepper has been sautéed and toss lightly through the pasta.
Serve hot topped with Parmesan Cheese.

MACCHERONI ALLA MUGNAIA CON PEPERONCINI DOLCE FORTE

Maccheroni alla Mugnaia con Peperoncini Dolce Forte image

The transumanza is all but a faded pastoral ritual in the Abruzzo. Once three million sheep and lambs were guided each year from summer mountain pastures to the winter lowlands and back again, but now-with the flocks reduced to several hundreds of thousands-they are transported in huge, canvas-roofed vans. And thus the pastoral life is in suspension, lulled into a smaller, less dramatic sort of existence that permits the shepherd to stay fixed, to have some dwelling or other as a home. Before, he lived with only the sky as refuge. His nobilities and his indignities, his dreaming and sleeping and, often, his dying, were fulfilled in the open air. But to hear stories from old men who, as boys, were raised to be shepherds, whose youth, nomadic and primitive, was spent in the waning epoch of the transumanza, one thinks it might hardly have been a life of desperation. Its very solitude was often its gift, say the old men. In his aloneness, the shepherd honed a curiously grand capacity to listen and discern. He became a piper of sorts, free to move about from village to village, and thus to transport to the hungry ears of each place his accumulation of stories. He was a folkloric hero, an exotic who lived by the graces. The old men smile deep in their eyes when they speak of they who live and die hanging tight to the fancy that security is palpable as a jewel. And, so, having heard the dusty memoirs and the swollen legends recounted by the old shepherd romancers, of the austere dishes they recall being cooked out in the open over their fires or under the shelter of some ruin, we wondered if someone, somewhere, might be cooking them still. Having just billeted ourselves at a modest hotel, La Bilancia, in the environs of Loreto Aprutino, spurred by the repute of its kitchen and cellars, we approached our host. Sergio is a gallant man with a burly sort of gentility. He said how strange it was that the circle had closed so quickly, that in his own lifetime, foods representing poverty had come to be of historical, gastronomic, interest to a stranger. We followed him into the kitchens, the parish of his wife, Antonietta. It was she-one who had every comestible at her disposal, kitchens with the square footage of a small village, four chefs at work under her soft-spoken guidance-who offered to cook the old dishes. They were, after all, her childhood food, the consoling plates of her grandmothers. She explained that the Abruzzesi, even when their means invite them to eat more extravagantly, still cook the old dishes at home. "They still comfort," she said. "They are cherished, they are our nostalgia." Too, she mused, this was not so true in some other regions where the foods a people ate when they were poor were fast set aside in better times. And so, because her clients partake of these dishes at home, it is other foods they long for when they sit in her dining room. Hence, it was a somewhat singular occasion for Antonietta to prepare the old foods. She set to making her lists, dispatching us on a mission to the nearby town of Penne to find a certain flour, a certain dried bean. Antonietta cooked two of her own preferred dishes from the traditions of the transumanza, from la cucina povera. And that evening, the immense room filled with guests vanquishing great hefts of roast lamb and fricasseed veal and saddle of hare and generous plates of maccheroni alla chitarra with a sauce of wild boar. She sat with us, her impeccable white cook's bonnet always in place, eating the simple food with an unembarrassed appetite. We, too, loved the dishes, as much for their own goodness as for the images they lit. The rough pasta dough is made from three flours and hand-rolled. Cut into rustic strings, this is not the ethereal pasta of the refined cucina whose destiny it is to linger about with shavings of white truffle or the belly of some poached lobster. It is the coarse stuff that is homey sop fo...

Yield serves 4

Number Of Ingredients 11

Ingredients

1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
4 to 6 fat cloves of garlic, peeled, crushed, and minced
1 tablespoon sweet ground paprika
1 to 2 small, dried red chiles, crushed, or 1/3 to 2/3 teaspoon dried chile flakes
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup fine semolina (sometimes labeled "pasta flour"), plus additional as needed
1/4 cup stone-ground whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon fine sea salt
2 large eggs
2 to 3 tablespoons water
2 tablespoons coarse sea salt

Steps:

In a small saucepan, warm the oil and soften the garlic for several minutes, permitting it to take on a little color. Add the paprika and the crushed chiles, stirring them about. Remove from the heat, cover the oil, and let it stand for 1/2 hour or longer. Reheat the oil slightly before saucing the mugnaia.
On a large wooden board or a pastry marble or in a large bowl, place the flours with the fine sea salt in a flat mound and form a well in the center. Break the eggs directly into the well, add 2 tablespoons of water to the well, drawing the flour from the inside wall of the mound gently into the eggs and water.
Using your hands, continue to work the elements into a rough paste. Should the paste be too dry, add the additional tablespoon of water-or even a few drops more, if necessary-and work it vigorously. Should the paste be too wet, add a few tablespoons more of the all-purpose flour and work it with the same vigor.
Flour is never the same, even if it comes from wheat harvested from the same field and ground at the same mill on the same day by the same miller. Age and humidity act upon it, changing its structure so that it will drink in more or less moisture.
Knead the dough, then, deliberately and rhythmically, for 8 to 10 minutes or more, until it is smooth and resilient to your touch. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap, permitting it a 20-minute rest to relax its hard-worked glutens.
Don't bother with a pasta machine for this rustic dough. I suppose the shepherds just patted it out on a flat stone. You'll find it easy enough to roll by hand. Begin by dividing the dough into thirds, covering two of the pieces to prevent their drying while you work with the first.
Lightly sprinkle semolina over the work surface and, wielding a long, heavy wooden rolling pin, roll out the dough in one direction, using an outward motion. Roll the dough into a circle, rotating it often as it stretches and grows thinner. When the dough is rolled and stretched to a somewhat uniform 1/4 inch, roll it up, strudel fashion, and, with a sharp knife, cut it into 1/4-inch ribbons. Unroll the ribbons, dusting them lightly with semolina, and place them on metal sheets or trays, lined with clean kitchen towels. Proceed to roll and cut the remaining portions of dough.
The mugnaia will be ready to cook after 1/2 hour or so or will keep nicely, tucked in under the kitchen cloths, overnight. Do not refrigerate the pasta.
To cook the mugnaia, bring abundant water to a rolling boil, add 2 tablespoons coarse sea salt and the pasta. Cover the pot. As the water returns to the boil, begin counting. Mugnaia will usually take 4 to 5 minutes to cook, but test the texture after 3 minutes and cook it just to al dente.
Drain the pasta, leaving it somewhat wet, and return it to the still-warm cooking pot.
Add the sauce and coat the mugnaia very well. Serve the mugnaia in shallow bowls and offer the bottle of olio santo (see page 155). Cheese is not a classic adornment to this dish. I imagine the shepherds grew weary, once in a while, of even their own good pecorino.

### Tips * **Use high-quality ingredients.** The better the ingredients, the better the pasta will be. * **Don't overwork the dough.** Overworking the dough will make the pasta tough. * **Let the dough rest.** Resting the dough will allow the gluten to relax, making the pasta more tender. * **Roll out the dough thinly.** The thinner the dough, the more delicate the pasta will be. * **Cook the pasta al dente.** Al dente means "to the tooth" in Italian. Pasta should be cooked just until it is tender but still has a slight bite to it. * **Don't overcrowd the pot.** Overcrowding the pot will prevent the pasta from cooking evenly. * **Stir the pasta frequently.** Stirring the pasta will prevent it from sticking together. * **Drain the pasta well.** Draining the pasta well will remove excess water, which will help the sauce adhere to the pasta. * **Serve the pasta immediately.** Pasta is best served immediately after it is cooked. ### Conclusion Maccheroni alla chitarra is a delicious and versatile pasta dish that can be enjoyed with a variety of sauces. With a little practice, you can make this dish at home with ease. Here are a few additional tips to help you make the perfect maccheroni alla chitarra: * If you don't have a chitarra, you can use a knife to cut the pasta dough into strips. * You can also use a pasta machine to roll out the dough. * If the dough is too sticky, add a little more flour. * If the dough is too dry, add a little more water. * Cook the pasta in a large pot of salted water. * Add the pasta to the boiling water and stir frequently. * Cook the pasta for 2-3 minutes, or until it is al dente. * Drain the pasta well and serve immediately.