Or alternate title "Everything tastes better with bacon."This is my favorite recipe to date. It was picked on a whim - not too many ingredients, not too much prep time, not too much heat in the kitchen (our heat wave was still in full force).
Ironically we had been watching a Martha Stewart re-run earlier in the day. She was making an exotic pasta and was going on and on in her level-headed yet over the top way about these fancy noodles. Now I wasn't completely paying attention. I got that she loved the noodles. I saw her HUGE pot (where does one store such a thing?) and observed her bag of very long noodles. My thought? I'll never make those because my pasta pot is too small. Then, within moments of this decree, I unwittingly picked a recipe using identical noodles. Now the bucatini in my grocery store are half the length of Martha's bucatini. Me - I didn't even realize they were the same.
As we were eating dinner my husband asked, "Hey, aren't these the noodles on TV this morning? Hollow spaghetti?"
"Why yes. Yes they are." I replied trying to sound authoritative all the while covering up the light of realization that just lit up over my head. Hey - I'm a middle-aged mother of three and have a full time job. I can't be expected to be brilliant all the time.
And here's the thing. As much as I hate to admit it - I agree with Martha. Bucatini noodles are fabulous. They absorb all the wonderful flavors of the sauce (in this case bacon, onions cooked in bacon grease and tomatoes -- mmmmmm bacon!).
Served with bruschetta and homemade sangria (pinot noir with sliced peaches) this is a lovely summer's meal. Throw a tablecloth over the rustic table out back, invite the neighbors over and have a true Italian feast.
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Note: This recipe was prepared last week. However I did not write about it until today due to a ahem minor kitchen incident. It seems our metal pasta fork fell over a hot, albeit off, burner. In my infinite wisdom I grabbed it with my bare hand. Not. Too. Smart. Fortunately my daughter had been making ice projects. I spent the rest of the evening cradling a water bottle filled with ice and pine needles. It did the trick and I was near normal the next day. Then, as time is bound to do, it got away from me. Now I have two additional recipes to share (soon I promise) and one additional incident. Let's just say flip flops and kitchens are not a good combination.
Buon Appetito!
Ironically we had been watching a Martha Stewart re-run earlier in the day. She was making an exotic pasta and was going on and on in her level-headed yet over the top way about these fancy noodles. Now I wasn't completely paying attention. I got that she loved the noodles. I saw her HUGE pot (where does one store such a thing?) and observed her bag of very long noodles. My thought? I'll never make those because my pasta pot is too small. Then, within moments of this decree, I unwittingly picked a recipe using identical noodles. Now the bucatini in my grocery store are half the length of Martha's bucatini. Me - I didn't even realize they were the same.
As we were eating dinner my husband asked, "Hey, aren't these the noodles on TV this morning? Hollow spaghetti?"
"Why yes. Yes they are." I replied trying to sound authoritative all the while covering up the light of realization that just lit up over my head. Hey - I'm a middle-aged mother of three and have a full time job. I can't be expected to be brilliant all the time.
And here's the thing. As much as I hate to admit it - I agree with Martha. Bucatini noodles are fabulous. They absorb all the wonderful flavors of the sauce (in this case bacon, onions cooked in bacon grease and tomatoes -- mmmmmm bacon!).
Served with bruschetta and homemade sangria (pinot noir with sliced peaches) this is a lovely summer's meal. Throw a tablecloth over the rustic table out back, invite the neighbors over and have a true Italian feast.
++++++++
Note: This recipe was prepared last week. However I did not write about it until today due to a ahem minor kitchen incident. It seems our metal pasta fork fell over a hot, albeit off, burner. In my infinite wisdom I grabbed it with my bare hand. Not. Too. Smart. Fortunately my daughter had been making ice projects. I spent the rest of the evening cradling a water bottle filled with ice and pine needles. It did the trick and I was near normal the next day. Then, as time is bound to do, it got away from me. Now I have two additional recipes to share (soon I promise) and one additional incident. Let's just say flip flops and kitchens are not a good combination.
Buon Appetito!
