Pasta Quotes

“Going round and around inside a dryer can be fatal, whereas pasta is rarely fatal. Unless Isabelle makes it.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

“Well, when I was five, I wanted my mother to let me go around and around inside a dryer with the clothes,” Clary said. “The difference is, she didn’t let me.”
“Probably because going around and around in a dryer can be fatal,” Jace pointed out, “whereas pasta is rarely fatal. Unless Isabelle makes it.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

“Everything you see I owe to spaghetti.”
― Sophia Loren

“PASTA!!”
― Hidekaz Himaruya, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Vol. 1

“How could a mother who boils water for pasta leave two little girls behind?”
― Jandy Nelson, The Sky Is Everywhere

“. . . pasta is rarely fatal. Unless Isabelle makes it." - Jace Wayland”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

“When the phone rang I was in the kitchen, boiling a potful of spaghetti and whistling along with an FM broadcast of the overture to Rossini's 'The Thieving Magpie,' which has to be the perfect music for cooking pasta.”
― Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

“- Sometimes you just have to throw spatzle at the wall and see what sticks.
- You absolutely do not. That is how you get ruined spatzle.”
― Margaret Owen, Little Thieves

“Second, and contrary to what some foreigners seem to think, not every pasta dish should be doused with grated cheese: you must not sprinkle cheese on pasta with any kind of cheese; ... and most Italians would rather die than put grated cheese on pasta made with fresh tomatoes.”
― Sari Gilbert, My Home Sweet Rome: Living (and loving) in Italy's Eternal City

“I see bacon, green peppers, mushrooms... those are all found in Napolitan Spaghetti. I guess instead of the standard ketchup, he's used curry roux for the sauce?
The noodles look similar to fettuccini."
"Hm. I'm not seeing anything else that stands out about it. Given how fun and amusing the calzone a minute ago was...
... the impact of this one's a lot more bland and boring..."
W-what the heck? Where did this heavy richness come from? It hits like a shockwave straight to the brain!
"Chicken and beef stocks for the base... with fennel and green cardamom for fragrance! What an excellent, tongue-tingling curry sauce! It clings well to the broad fettuccini noodles too!"
"For extra flavor is that... soy sauce?"
"No, it's tamari soy sauce!
Tamari soy sauce is richer and less salty than standard soy sauce, with a more full-bodied sweetness to it. Most tamari is made on Japan's eastern seaboard. "
"That's not all either! I'm picking up the mellow hints of cheese! But I'm not seeing a single shred of any kind of cheese in here. Where's it hiding?"
"Allow me to tell you, sir. First, look at the short edge of a noodle, please."
?! What on earth?!
This noodle's got three layers!"
"For the outer layers, I kneaded turmeric into the pasta dough. But for the inner layer, I added Parmesan cheese!"
"I see! It's the combination of the tamari soy sauce and the parmesan cheese that gives this dish its incredible richness!"
"Yeah, but wait a minute! If you go kneading cheese right into the noodles, wouldn't it just melt back out when you boiled them?"
No... that's why they're in three layers! With the cheese in the middle, the outer layers prevented it from melting out!
The deep, rich curry sauce, underscored with the flavor of tamari soy sauce...
... and the chewy noodles, which hit you with the mellow, robust taste of parmesan cheese with every bite!
Many people are familiar with the idea of coating cream cheese in soy sauce...
... but who would have thought parmesan cheese would match this well with tamari soy sauce! ”
― Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 7 [Shokugeki no Souma 7]

“You've never seen that? Tiny little pieces of pasta in the shape of letters of the alphabet. The letters are mixed together, they float in the broth as if it were a three-dimensional book. When you eat them, you feel like you're gobbling words, sentences, entire conversations, entire chapters of novels. Kids love it. It's like the opposite of speaking: rather than syllables coming out of your mouth, letters go in your mouth and are swallowed.”
― Brice Matthieussent, Vengeance du traducteur

“I sliced the chicken with my fingers and put it into a small skillet to warm, separate a couple of eggs, and whisk the yolks quickly until they have lightened and thickened. Pour in a healthy glug of cream, then grate a flurry of cheese over the top, mixing it in. I zest a lemon from the bowl into the mix, and then squeeze in the juice. Some salt and pepper. I go over to the pots in my window and, with the scissors I keep there, snip off some parsley and chives, which I chop roughly and add to the mix. When the pasta is al dente, I drain it quickly, reserving a bit of the cooking water, and add it to a large bowl with a knob of butter, mixing quickly to coat the pasta. I add in the lemon sauce, tossing with a pair of tongs. When the whole mass comes together in a slick velvet tumble of noodles, I taste for seasoning, add a bit more ground black pepper, and put the shredded chicken on top with a bit more grated cheese.
A fork and a cold beer out of the fridge, and I take the bowl out to the living room, tossing Simca a piece of chicken, and settle on the couch to watch TV, twirling long strands of the creamy lemony pasta onto my fork with pieces of the savory chicken, complete comfort food.”
― Stacey Ballis, How to Change a Life

“Otto minuti"

Misuro il tempo che resta negli otto,
necessari minuti alla cottura
per cucinare al dente gli spaghetti
come demiurgo della pastasciutta.
Il conto alla rovescia, l’acqua bolle
mentre sale la nebbia del vapore,
amidato profumo cereale.
Sento il sapore di una vita in bianco.”
― Lorenzo Foltran, Il tempo perso in aeroporto

“Over the next two hours, we sampled from cheese plates, charcuterie platters, salads, roasted vegetables, tarts, and two risottos.
I knew we were nowhere near done, but I was glad I'd worn a stretchy, forgiving dress.
Next came the pastas, spring vegetables tossed with prawns and cavatappi, a beautiful macaroni and cheese, and a lasagna with duck ragù.
It didn't end there---Chloé began to bring out the meats---a beautiful pork loin in a hazelnut cream sauce, a charming piece of bone-in chicken breast coated in cornflakes, a peppery filet mignon, and a generous slice of meat loaf with a tangy glaze. My favorite was the duck in marionberry sauce---the skin had been rubbed with an intoxicating blend of spices, the meat finished with a sweet, tangy sauce. It tasted like summer and Oregon all at once. We planned to open in mid-August, so the duck with fresh berries would be a perfect item for the opening menu.
While I took measured bites from most of the plates, I kept the duck near and continued to enjoy the complex flavors offered by the spices and berry.
Next came the desserts, which Clementine brought out herself.
She presented miniatures of her pastry offerings---a two-bite strawberry shortcake with rose liqueur-spiked whipped cream, a peach-and-brown-sugar bread pudding served on the end of a spoon, a dark chocolate torte with a hint of cinnamon, and a trio of melon ball-sized scoops of gelato.”
― Hillary Manton Lodge, A Table by the Window

“He chopped a garlic, set a pot of water to boil on the stove, and poured a healthy amount of kosher salt into it. He threw the garlic in a pan of olive oil and let it sizzle for just a minute before taking it off the heat. The smell began to relax all of them and Gretchen and Jane settled themselves at his counter and watched him cook. He poured them both large glasses of red wine and watched as their bodies physically relaxed. He could see the tightness in Jane's jaw go away and he smiled. It was hard to feel bad about the world when the air smelled like garlic, when pasta and cheese were being prepared, when you had a good glass of red.
Sautéed garlic could save the world.


"I call this my bad day pasta," he told them. "It's a carbonara-cacio e pepe hybrid. Tons of cheese and salt and pepper." He cut off two slices of Parmesan and handed one to each of them. He knew the crunchy crystals and salt would go great with the wine. He whisked the egg and stirred in the cheese. He reserved some pasta water. He cranked his pepper mill. He swirled the pasta into a warm bowl as he added the egg mixture until it was shiny and coated.
Jane took a sip of her wine and watched Teddy. "Mike doesn't eat pasta," she said. Teddy took three shallow bowls out of his cabinet and set them on the table. He distributed the pasta among them, sprinkled them with extra cheese and pepper.
"Anyone who doesn't eat pasta is suspect in my book," he said.
"Amen," Gretchen said.”
― Jennifer Close, Marrying the Ketchups

“Then it's time for our first complete bites after we mix the gnocchi and sauce together with a sprinkling of parmesan over the top. Spearing one of the little potato pillows with my fork, I drag it through some extra sauce before popping it into my mouth. The flavors explode on my tongue, my taste buds experiencing something akin to euphoria as the fresh tomatoes and garlic and herbs and salt all meld around a light, fluffy center. I fight the urge to moan aloud, because oh. My. Pasta-loving stars.
I thought I loved pasta before. But then I met this gnocchi, which Benny says isn't even technically pasta, and all I know is that it tastes like my every good Italian restaurant and home-cooked comfort food memory rolled into one and amplified. I feel like I'm about to melt to the floor, literally light-headed from this rapturous food experience. The dish is savory and hearty and warms me from the inside out.”
― Kaitlyn Hill, Love from Scratch

“Princess Adelaide hadn't shown him any particular favor, but she had seemed to enjoy his freshly made pasta colored with squid ink and peppered throughout with clams, mussels, more squid, and roasted fennel. White wine finished the sauce, and he'd topped the entire dish with fried squid tentacles coated in rice flour and lightly dusted with fennel pollen.”
― Jennieke Cohen, My Fine Fellow

“We eat spaghetti all' amatriciana, with a sauce of guanciale, which is the pig's" ---he ran his finger down her cheek, briefly, a touch so fleeting she was hardly aware it had happened---"this part of the pig's face. We fry it in olive oil with a little chile, some tomatoes, and of course some grated pecorino romano, hard cheese. Or if you don't want spaghetti, you could have bucatini, or calscioni, or fettuccine, or pappardelle, or tagliolini, or rigatoni, or linguine, or garganelli, or tonnarelli, or fusilli, or conchiglie, or vermicelli, or maccheroni, but---" he held up a warning finger---"each of them demands a different kind of sauce. For example, an oily sauce goes with dried pasta, but a butter sauce goes better with fresh. Take fusilli." He held up a packet to show her. "People say this pasta was designed by Leonardo da Vinci himself. The spiral fins carry the maximum amount of sauce relative to the surface area, you see? But it only works with a thick, heavy sauce that can cling to the grooves. Conchiglie, on the other hand, is like a shell, so it holds a thin, liquid sauce inside it perfectly.”
― Anthony Capella, The Food of Love

“What sort of pasta are you making?"
"Pasta con funghi."
He watched as she took a bowl of strange, round, reddish brown mushrooms out of the larder. The air immediately filled with their rich, earthy scent. Ripe as a well-cellared cheese, but tinged with the odors of leaf mold and decay, it reminded him a little of the smell of offal in his native Roman dishes. "How many kinds of funghi do you cook with?" he asked.
"Oh, hundreds. It just depends on what I find in the woods."
"You pick these yourself?"
"Of course."
As the smell of funghi combined with the scent of hot butter and garlic in the frying pan, Bruno felt his nostrils flare. And not just his nostrils. The smell was stirring up his blood, awakening sensation in a part of him that had been quiescent for a long time.”
― Anthony Capella, The Food of Love

“I don't let my spaghetti dangle, or twirl it around my fork. I cut it. Of course, my preferred slicing utensil is a Rubik's Cube, because knives are edgy, but 3D squares are 12 times more dangerous.”
― Jarod Kintz, Eggs, they’re not just for breakfast

“The mood at the table is convivial throughout the meal. A dried-sausage and prosciutto plate gives way to briny sardines, which give way to truffle-covered gnocchi topped with a plethora of herbs. Richness cut with acidity, herbaceousness and cool breezes at every turn. A simple ricotta and lemon fettuccine topped with sharp pecorino is the perfect counterpoint.
I am not driving, and apparently Anjana isn't, either, so we both order a Cynar and soda. "How can we digest all the pasta without another digestif?" we exclaim to the waiter, giddily. Meat, carbs, sunshine, and lingering music coming from across the plaza have stirred us up, and soon our dessert--- some sort of chocolate cake with walnuts--- arrives. It's dense in that fudgey way a flourless concoction can be, like it has molded itself into the perfection of pure chocolate. The crunch of the walnuts is a counterweight, drawing me deeper into the flavor.
I haven't been inspired by food like this in a long time, despite spending so much time thinking about food. The atmosphere at work has sucked so much of the joy out of thinking about recipes, but I find myself taking little notes on my phone for recipe experimentation when I get home. The realization jolts me.
I've always felt like I have the perfect job for a creative who happens to also be left-brained. Recipes are an intriguing puzzle every single time. Today's fettuccine is the perfect example. The tartness of the lemon paired with the smooth pasta and pillowy ricotta is the no-brainer part. But the trickier puzzle piece--- the one that is necessary to connect the rest of the puzzle to the whole--- is the light grating of the pecorino on top. That tang, that edge, that cutting spice works in tangent with the lemon to give the dish its power. Lemon alone wouldn't have been enough. Pecorino alone wouldn't have been enough. The dish is so simple, but it has to fit together perfectly to work. These little moments, these exciting eurekas, are the elation I normally get in my job.”
― Ali Rosen, Recipe for Second Chances

“Thursday night is pasta night," I say. "I left you guys a lasagna Bolognese, garlic knots, and roasted broccolini. Ian is going to make the Caesar salad table side." Thursday is the day I come in only to train Ian, so on Wednesdays I always leave something for an easy pasta night. Either a baked dish, or a sauce and parboiled pasta for easy finishing, some prepped salad stuff, and a simple dessert.
"Awesome. Does the lasagna have the chunks of sausage in it?"
I narrow my eyes at him. "Robert Adam Farber, would I leave you a lasagna without chunks of sausage in it?" I say with fake insult in my voice.
"No, El, you totally have my back on all things meat. What's for dessert?"
"Lemon olive oil cake with homemade vanilla bean gelato.”
― Stacey Ballis, How to Change a Life

“The feast is family-style, of course. Every six-person section of the table has its own set of identical dishes: garlicky roasted chicken with potatoes, a platter of fat sausages and peppers, rigatoni with a spicy meat sauce, linguine al olio, braised broccoli rabe, and shrimp scampi. This is on top of the endless parade of appetizers that everyone has been wolfing down all afternoon: antipasto platters piled with cheeses and charcuterie, fried arancini, hot spinach and artichoke dip, meatball sliders. I can't begin to know how anyone will touch the insane dessert buffet... I counted twelve different types of cookies, freshly stuffed cannoli, zeppole, pizzelles, a huge vat of tiramisu, and my favorite, Teresa's mom's lobster tails, sort of a crispy, zillion-layered pastry cone filled with chocolate custard and whipped cream.”
― Stacey Ballis, How to Change a Life

“She remembered a restaurant she'd gone to in San Francisco, years before. Delfina? That was it. She'd had delicious sourdough bread there, painted with butter. Fragrant, crisp-on-the-outside Saffron Arancini. Bright fresh salad with real oil and good vinegar and fresh cracked pepper.”
― Beth Harbison, The Cookbook Club: A Novel of Food and Friendship

“We took our seats and spent the next few hours enjoying bruschetta, fried squid, heaping plates of penne puttanesca, and saltimbocca di pollo. Being full wasn't an option---the meal only ended once we'd proved consumption of a slice of olive oil cake.”
― Hillary Manton Lodge, Reservations for Two

“Tonight's lesson was a breadcrumb cake, and the idea that so many Italian desserts were less about being impressive---as so many French recipes were---than about being resourceful. "After all," I said, "tiramisu is just cookies dipped in coffee and liqueur, layered with custard."
For the breadcrumb cake, I walked them through how to make the breadcrumbs. "There's no sense in buying breadcrumbs, not in that quantity."
We sliced the crusts off of the bread together, toasted the slices lightly, and ran the bread through the food processor.
Afterward, we grated the dark chocolate, peeled and sliced the pears, cracked eggs, and measured cream. The thick batter came together quickly, and we placed them into the ovens.
While the cakes baked, I walked them through the pasta fritta alla Siracusa, the angel-hair pasta twirls fried in a shallow amount of oil. We boiled up the pasta, then stirred together honey and candied orange before chopping pistachios and adding some cinnamon.
One by one, they dropped the knotted pasta into the oil and cooked them on both sides. After draining them, we drizzled the honey mixture over the top, followed by a sprinkle of the pistachios and cinnamon.
The process of frying the pasta bundles, one by one, kept everyone busy until the breadcrumb cakes finished baking.”
― Hillary Manton Lodge, Together at the Table

“My mind started to tumble, much like fresh pasta dough rolls its way through the machine. I hadn't made fresh pasta yet in this competition, and if I could pull it off, I could see it being a real winner. That way I could turn the herb broth and herb butter into an herby butter pasta sauce----maybe with white wine, maybe with some fried capers to cut through the richness with their briny bite. My scallops would go well with with that, being perfectly seared this time, of course. And the artichokes? Maybe I didn't need to fry the hearts whole. I could chop them smaller and fry them like that, crispy little flowers to add some crunch to the soft pasta and meaty scallops.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“She mentally ran through the new dishes for that evening, including the new jambalaya, which would be daringly made with pasta instead of the traditional rice.
It was a risk to make such a drastic change to one of New Orleans's most beloved dishes, but if she managed to pull this off, T&J's would be the talk of the town! She wouldn't be surprised if people came in from as far as Biloxi, or even Jackson, Mississippi, to try her new recipe.”
― Farrah Rochon, Almost There

“She'd been covered in sweat after her hike with Leo, for instance. And also after their session in his bedroom...
But she didn't have time to think about him, because she had to crack pepper over the plate of Nicoise pasta she was finishing. The fresh spaghetti was plated onto a rich nest of heavy cream, basil, garlic and Parmesan cheese. Transcendence on a plate, the most satisfying thing... outside of Leo's head between her thighs.”
― Erin La Rosa, For Butter or Worse

“The waiter arrived with our entrées. Because we'd "ordered light," there were also only two of these. A firm whitefish with crispy skin that glistened under the light and shattered between my teeth, nestled atop a smooth, creamy carrot-ginger puree, luscious with just the right amount of butter (a lot). Roasted carrots, yellow and purple and orange but always caramelized on the outside added pops of sweetness and texture, and candied ginger was sprinkled on top, providing some spice and some chew.
I was sad when it came time to move on to the second entrée, but it cheered me right up. A pasta that had clearly been made here, thick strands that were tender but with a chew to them, bathed in a sauce of coconut milk and garlic and ginger and chiles. I could've slurped this pasta down all on its own, forever, but the buttery chunks of shrimp and crunchy bits of okra scattered throughout made for most welcome diversions. Okra seeds popped with relish on my tongue.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot