Shall We Make Some Spaghetti?

A short Manifesto of Simplicity for the Holiday season

Holiday days are always a time for exceptional food: special recipes, exotic twists, bold experiments, unexpected pairings—or, at times, a sober vegetarian grace. Even Italian tables “stretch” a little during festivities, not always to everyone’s delight—especially relatives 🙂. And yet, these are the moments when we experiment.

Then come the dishes of the day after. Not the brodo di Santo Stefano, but everyday food—the kind you might call comfort food, or simply “something to eat.” In Italy we have a perfect expression for this: “Facciamo due spaghetti?”(“Shall we make some spaghetti?”). That’s why a reflection deserves a recipe that is perhaps something more.

I like to talk about spaghetti aglio e olio. I once wrote about it on our blog, but here I want to go a little deeper. The idea that we are what we eat also suggests that what we eat reflects who we tend to be. In the simplicity of this dish lies the ambition of seeking balance and stability.

I don’t believe that stripping recipes down to their essence is nostalgia for the past. Rather, it’s a way of looking forward—entering the ever-changing nature of ingredients themselves, shaped by subtle, imperceptible variations each time. In this recipe, essence is everything. About 90% of Italian traditional recipes begin with garlic or onion gently sautéed in olive oil. It’s almost a defining trait—an instinctive gesture we often perform without even asking why.

Then there is pasta. Cooked al dente, then finished in the pan so that the essential elements expand and merge in the best possible way—like an ingredient that grows and spreads, rather than merely sitting beside the others. The search for good dried pasta—properly made, properly dried, still holding the nutrients that have accompanied humanity for millennia—is fundamental. No, we’re not against carbohydrates—how could we be?—but we want to use them wisely, choosing the good ones to truly celebrate a recipe that now needs just one final touch.

A bit of chili pepper, gently fried, is perhaps the only indispensable seasoning here. Midnight spaghetti or midday comfort, pasta aglio, olio e peperoncino is always right—but not with just any pasta shape. Some things simply aren’t meant to be together. That’s life 🙂

A little parsley fits beautifully—best if it comes from your garden, but a pot on the windowsill works just fine—so long as it’s fresh, finely chopped, added only at the end while tossing the pasta, and then sprinkled on top. Just to say that yes, we’re aesthetes too.

In the end, alongside any manifesto of an agricultural cuisine, there must always be room for eating for pleasure—with the awareness of doing it well.

I’m getting hungry.

Happy Holidays