green tomato pasta
a mysterious dish steps into the spotlight; plus, some news!
Before we jump in, a bit of personal news: This past weekend, my cookbook, Pasta Every Day, won the 2024 James Beard Award in the Single Subject category! I am completely overwhelmed and grateful for this recognition—certainly one of the highlights of my career and my life. And, in case I don’t say it enough, I am so happy you’re all here, supporting my work and cooking these recipes. Knowing some of my dishes have graced your tables has by far been the most rewarding part of writing both the book and this newsletter, so…thank you!
If you don’t already have a copy of Pasta Every Day, it’s currently on sale on Amazon (but also—support your local bookstores!!).
Okay, now back to our regularly scheduled programming!
—Meryl
A few weeks ago, I turned 34. Not a particularly noteworthy birthday, and I’ll admit I’m starting to lose track of how old I actually am (in my mind, it’s still 2019 and I’m still 29). My husband and I have fallen into a birthday rhythm over the years, and one that, unsurprisingly, revolves around food. We’ll each take the other out for a nice meal and maybe tack on a couple of other gifts, which also tend to be food-related—cookbooks, kitchen gadgets, a good bottle of wine. Our families have caught on to these preferences, too, and this year I received a cookbook I’m particularly excited about from my in-laws called Cucina Ebraica: Flavors of the Italian Jewish Kitchen by Joyce Goldstein. I’m sure you all know by now that Italian Jewish cooking is one of my particular interests—this is my fourth or fifth book dedicated to the subject.
Cucina Ebraica is an old-school cookbook. It was published over 25 years ago, so you won’t find any high-contrast images of hands reaching for plates of half-eaten food across a purposefully messy tablescape, or bloated letters in primary colors. Instead, a composed still life graces the shiny dust jacket, the font is some version of Times New Roman, and there are more recipes without photos than with them. There’s something refreshingly straightforward about it, and I wonder if current trends will fade back into something similar—or, at least, more muted—one day.
Cookbook trend musings aside, the first section I happened to turn to was pasta e riso (“pasta and rice”; Joyce was looking out for me) and, within that section, a dish I’d never heard of called penne al sugo verde, penne with green tomato sauce. Goldstein doesn’t provide much context for the dish other than the fact that her recipe is an adaptation of something similar by Milka Belgrado Passigli from her 1993 book Le ricette di casa mia (“my home recipes”) which, frustratingly, is out of print. Consequently, I’m not sure if this is a widespread Italian Jewish recipe or something primarily from Passigli’s family or town—regardless, I think I gasped when I saw it because it was just so…unexpected.
I imagine we’re all thinking the same thing here: Green tomatoes are a staple of the American South, not Italy. The two cuisines seem so disparate, and I’ll admit—with Italy’s near-zealous fervor for ripe, red tomatoes—I didn’t even consider that green tomatoes were eaten there. Of course, I was wrong. Italians have a penchant for putting every last morsel of food to good use, and that includes the firm, sour green tomatoes that haven’t yet ripened by the end of the season. Their most common application is pickled green tomatoes, or pomodori verdi sott’olio, a natural addition to the country’s prolific pickled vegetable canon. To make them, the tomatoes are salted, submerged in vinegar, and then stored in olive oil with aromatics like garlic and herbs. They’re typically served as a crunchy, tangy antipasto or side dish, and as a condiment on sandwiches or alongside cold meats and cheeses. But green tomatoes and pasta? Aside from Goldstein’s book, the only other (very vague) reference I could find was from Abruzzo, particularly the mountain town of Opi. It’s a similar recipe to the one I’m sharing today, with the addition of celery and a pinch of baking soda to, I assume, soften the astringency of the tomatoes.
The mysteriousness of this dish is a large part of why I’m so excited to share it with you. Not to mention that I spent a few years living in the South, and green tomatoes bring back fond memories of my time there. And so, although today’s recipe is mostly based on the original Italian version, I made a few tweaks and added some Southern-inspired touches of my own—mainly the crunchy breadcrumb topping, a nod to the irresistible crust that envelops the South’s signature fried green tomatoes. The result is, as Goldstein says, a “refreshing summer pasta” that’s light and tangy, with an echo of gentle heat that makes you want to go back for more. Make this now, just as tomato season crests over the horizon, or save it for late August, when it’s time to bid summer farewell and green tomatoes are the last fruit on the vine.
Green Tomato Pasta
Serves 4 to 6