anellini, abruzzo's little rings
pasta of the month 009
January is full of hope and beginnings, the promise of new and change and different. It’s also, for me, a battle of wills, a clash between two forces: one of wants and one of shoulds. Of course, when it comes to eating, the battle gets bloodier. Force number one, the strong and comfortable and seemingly reasonable, reminds me that it’s cold and gray, and we’re all a little sad about the end of the festive season, and wouldn’t something rich and indulgent be exactly what I want? The second force, nagging and wise, reminds me that it’s a new year and I should probably eat more vegetables.
I let go of New Year’s resolutions years ago (partly a symptom of time losing its meaning during the pandemic), but it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what they can be, and what so many of us strive for come January. So today’s recipe—our ninth pasta of the month, and the inaugural installment of 2024—is my best attempt at that fickle thing called balance, a momentary truce between want and should: anellini, “little rings” from Abruzzo, bobbing happily in a nourishing, vegetable-rich soup.
Although anellini are, in my American mind, the Italian version of the ultimate childhood comfort food, Spaghetti-Os, their roots are far more refined than noodles in a can. In Italy, you’ll most often find them dried, dubbed anelli, anelletti, or anellini respective to their size, with anellini being the smallest. Anelli and anelletti are most popular in Sicily, and also in Puglia, where they’re sometimes called cerchionetti, reminiscent of particular hoop earrings. These larger, thin rings are served in soups (often broth), salads, and pasta bakes. Perhaps their most famous use is in the Sicilian timballo, a glamorous bundt-shaped pasta cake packed with some combination of sauce, cheese, meat, and vegetables that’s typically served around the holidays, including Ferragosto in August, and the New Year.
Fresh anellini, which we’re making today, are rarer, primarily found in Abruzzo in central Italy, and particularly the town of Elice in the province of Pescara. East of Lazio and north of Puglia, Abruzzo sits on the edge of the Adriatic Sea and is covered by the Apennine Mountains. There are beaches and valleys, fisherman and shepherds, coves and castles—an entanglement of southern and northern traditions. It’s a region that flies a little under-the-radar, but it’s no less rich in culture and delicious food: saffron, licorice, mortadella, pizzelle (lacy, wafer-cookies), and torrone (nougat) are a few of its specialties, not to mention one of my favorite pastas, spaghetti alla chitarra, referring to the guitarlike tool used to make them. Dried pasta production is also at its highest level here, especially in the town of Fara San Martino, home to several famous brands, including De Cecco (my favorite for affordable dried pasta).
Back to those anellini, which are slightly larger than the dried stuff (undoubtedly because it’s impossible to make them as tiny by hand) and always served in a particular way: alla pecorara, a flavorful tomato sauce studded with sautéed vegetables (eggplant, zucchini, bell peppers) and sheep’s milk ricotta. Original versions of anellini alla pecorara likely included meat, but today the dish is usually made meatless. The addition of sheep’s milk cheese, however, remains key: pecora is the Italian word for “sheep,” and both the ricotta and Pecorino impart a delicious tangy, creamy, salty essence that can’t be overlooked. Like so many of the dishes I write about, this one is rooted in cucina povera, the peasant cooking of the Apennine shepherds, with the vegetables from their garden, cheese from their sheep, and pasta from their hands.
I make no excuses for deviating from tradition, but there are two primary reasons I’m doing so today: 1) anellini alla pecorara strikes me as a summer dish, best enjoyed when eggplants and zucchini are sweet and ripe; 2) fresh sheep’s milk ricotta, an essential ingredient, is harder to find stateside. So, as usual, today’s recipe is inspired by traditional flavors while also being very untraditional. I’ve swapped some of the warm-weather produce for their cooler cousins, then roasted them until deeply caramelized to bring out their flavor. Sheep’s milk feta stands in for the ricotta, and the whole thing is whizzed up into a dreamy, velvety soup-meets-sauce that’s not unlike that aforementioned childhood delicacy in a tin. The tangy, vegetal core of alla pecorara is there, but it’s…different: Comforting, warming, and full of the nutrients we know are good for us, especially come January 1.
Anellini with Roasted Vegetable & Feta Soup
Serves 4