Photograph by Kevin A. Roberts
No, a chitarra is not what George Harrison learned to play from Ravi Shankar, though you might be forgiven for thinking so, since sitar and chitarra come from the same root word and since you’re still a little addled because you had to listen to your roommate back in college twang that opening melody line of "Norwegian Wood" so many times you had to physically stop yourself from doing a John Belushi to that guitar every time you saw it pulled out.
A chitarra is a pasta-cutter. Roll out the pasta dough, press it through the guitar strings of the chitarra box, and presto—pasta. Pasta machines that crank layers of dough through their wheels, flattening and slicing it, are supposed to be the macaroni machine of choice. But there’s a reason the chitarra’s better—and a reason the Serious Eater is excited to learn someone like Araka’s new executive chef, Steve Caravelli, uses one.
First, a crank-type pasta machine laminates the dough, pressing layers together. What that means is that cooks have to let the pasta rest after it’s been rolled, so the layers relax and stick together. Hand-roll pasta and it’s instantly ready for the chitarra, so it doesn’t dry out. The thickness of the pasta is also easier to control if you’re hand-rolling and cutting pasta. What comes on the plate of Araka’s spaghetti alla chitarra isn’t spaghetti—it’s closer to tagliatelle. But it’s fresh and the texture is perfect, some of the best pasta in the area.
Okay, so you’ve got this spectacular handmade pasta which would be memorable with just a few shavings of Parmesan. But you want to dress it up a bit. What to do? In Araka’s case, the restaurant goes all Amatriciana on it, slathering on one of the classic sauces of Italian eating, the pride of Italy’s Amatrice region. Tomatoes, cooked down just enough to become soft but still retaining much of their texture, along with olive-oil fried guanciale nibbles, flakes of onion (Araka’s going a bit off-road here; onions are a big no-no in authentic Amatrice versions of their sauce), and what tastes like red pepper or a dash of chili pepper that balances the sweetness of the sauce with a tingle of spice.
The pork cheek guanciale comes from Salume Beddu, a cured meat place over on Hampton that’s producing artisan-level salami, pancetta, and lots of sausages, along with a guanciale that’s delicately spiked with brown sugar and a touch of rosemary. If you like pancetta, you’ll adore guanciale.
Add the pasta, toss in a scatter of arugula while the pan’s still hot enough to wilt the leaves just slightly, then scrape shavings of salty, pungent pecorino, and it’s ready—oh, except for the egg. Looking like a fat dollop of mozzarella sitting atop the mound of pasta is a mollet egg. You, being a Serious Eater, know what a mollet egg is. For the others (how do we put up with them?): Mollet eggs have been poached just long enough so the white thickens enough to support the yolk. That means when your fork hits it, sunshine bursts out, covering the dish in a luscious, yellowy richness that sends the dish right over the top.
Final note: See that ’08 Rombauer Chardonnay on Araka’s wine list? Amatriciana sauce goes with it like Lindsay goes with rehab.
Araka
Clayton
131 Carondelet
314-725-6777
