creamy, dreamy fettuccine with citrus, cognac & mint
"the magnificent," from florence
In Florence, less than a ten-minute walk from the city’s watchful Duomo, there’s a restaurant called Trattoria Garga. It’s been a fixture of the Florentine dining scene for decades, known not only for its food but also its art: Covered head-to-toe in brightly painted murals, it’s more or less a “mini three-room circus” and a reminder, if anyone needed one, that Florence’s blood still runs in every color, even 500 years after da Vinci and Michelangelo drew their last breaths. Giuliano Gargani (nicknamed “Garga”), the trattoria’s original owner, head chef, an artist himself, and the patron behind the vibrant décor, opened the restaurant as a gathering place for creatives and intellectuals. He had, I’ve read, one of those big personalities that was as colorful as the art he created, impossible not to love. A jolly man who smoked and drank and teased, who lived to amuse and regale and make his guests feel at home.
Although you’ll find classic Tuscan dishes like pappardelle al cinghiale (pappardelle with wild boar) and bistecca alla Fiorentina on the menu, it’s unsurprising that a bon vivant such as Gargani also experimented in the kitchen. Of the dishes he created, one is particularly memorable, and it’s called tagliolini del magnifico (“of the magnificent”). Of course, I wouldn’t put it past the Gargani in my head to call it magnificent simply because he thought it tasted that good. But the name actually refers to Lorenzo de’ Medici, the 16th-century Florentine ruler revered for his patronage of the arts and Renaissance culture, a statesman so beloved even in his lifetime that he was dubbed “il magnifico.”
If we subscribe to the idea that artists tend to have something else about them, some sort of creative genius or even just a different way of looking at the world, then Gargani’s tagliolini del magnifico is surely an artist’s dish. Like most Italian food, the ingredient list is short and mostly familiar—pasta, cream, citrus, Parmigiano—and the preparation is simple, but the way in which everything comes together wouldn’t have dawned on me in a million years. The big twist is a shot of cognac, a French spirit I’ve rarely seen in Italian cooking, which brings that something else, that creative genius, to an otherwise pretty standard, albeit yummy, bowl of pasta. Think of tagliolini del magnifico as fettuccine Alfredo’s effortlessly chic, possibly Parisian cousin.
You can find Gargani’s original recipe for tagliolini del magnifico elsewhere; my version is a little different (why else are you here?). Unpopular opinion it might be, but my husband and I aren’t the biggest fans of citrus zest, often finding it to be too soapy or sweet or just overpowering, especially when used in large quantities like it is here. My technique therefore infuses the citrus flavor more subtly and in two ways, and also avoids adding the mint too soon so it doesn’t blacken by the time you serve it. And, although I rarely pass up the opportunity to make fresh pasta, I opted not for tagliolini but dried fettuccine (linguini would work well, too, or your favorite store-bought fresh pasta), because this recipe struck me as too quick and too easy to make laborious with homemade noodles. That said, feel free to ignore all of my changes and try the original recipe—either way, I hope this one brings a little bit of Florence, and a little bit of art, into your kitchen.
Pasta with Citrus, Cognac & Mint
Serves 4