Why Hello there, and welcome to a special Christmas edition of Kitchen Catastrophes, expertly timed to distract you from inconvenient political talk with your family, and not at all late because Jon broke his external hard drive and had to re-write the post. I’m your perfectly Technically Correct Author, Jon O’Guin, and today’s post may not seem to be in the season, but I assure you, it’ll make sense. If you wish to get straight to the service like an impatient Catholic, click this link to get to the recipe. For everyone else, let’s start with a punchbowl social for this special pesto.

I’m Dreaming Of a White Christmas

Listen, I know I’m not going to pull one over on you guys. You’re all street-savvy teens; you saw the title picture: you know this doesn’t look like a “normal” pesto. No, like your nephew’s friend Jamal, it’s surprisingly white. Why? Well, I can’t help you with Gen Z naming conventions, but I CAN help you with ancient Italian, which should give you a rough illustration of how useful I am in an average day.

May not know much about Web Design, but I know more about the Etruscans than your average guy.
In that I know about the Etruscans at ALL.

I’ve actually, technically, already explained this before: “pesto” is really just a kind of generic Italian word. It means “smashed” or “Crushed”. It’s really just used for a CLASS of pasta sauces (and, indeed, comes from the same ROOT as “pasta”) where you don’t COOK the sauce beforehand, you just crush it together. We as Americans tend to think of Pesto as a Green herby mixture of pine nuts, Parmesan, and Basil, because America is really fucking bad at understanding Italian place name conventions. Remember three weeks ago, with Fried Bologna Sandwiches, how we learned that Americans just started calling mortadella d’Bologna “Bologna”? Well, they did the exact OPPOSITE with the sauce pesto alla Genovese, “Crushed sauce from/in-the-style-of Genoa”, and started calling it pesto. (Fun fact: Genoa is the capital of Liguria, the Italian province that BORDERS Emilia-Romagna…where the capital is Bologna. So I have, by accident, gotten involved in discussions of neighboring Italian capitals in the same month. I honestly wish I could say I planned that. Unless, for reasons I can’t understand, that’s somehow offensive to Italians. In which case, “Oh no, how unfortunate!” (Just frown and solemnly nod. They hold their grudges deep in the old country.))

There’s actually multiple types of Pesto in Italy, from the pesto rosso (red pesto) of Sicily, made with tomatoes and almonds, and surprisingly little organized crime, to the pesto alla Calabrese or “Calabrian pesto”, which is a spicy sauce made of grilled bell peppers, black pepper, spicy peppers, and probably Dr Pepper. Today’s recipe, pesto bianco, is a Ligurian creation, meaning it was made in the same region as the ‘normal’ stuff, just in a different way. And I have to tell you, it’s a pretty sweet gig, but one that’s best explained by contrast.

The Last Bianca I knew was Something of A Shrew

That was almost very clever, title Jon. But KATERINA was the Shrew in that play. Though Bianca does turn out to be more opinionated than expected at the end of the play, so maybe you’re playing to the ending reveal rather than the name, and- You sly dog, you’ve got me monologuing! Anyway, the basic set-up for pesto alla Genovese is simple: you need olive oil, a shit-ton of basil, salt, garlic, and two bougie ingredients: Pine Nuts, and an aged Italian cheese like Parmigiano-Reggiano, Pecorino-Romano, etc.

Having two names as a cheese is like having three names as a historical figure: you’re either VERY important, or you killed someone very important, and maybe both.

If you’re unaware of why that’s a problem: Both of those last two ingredients are 20-30 dollars a pound. (If you don’t know why THAT’S important, then may I direct you to the fact that that is more than the average American hourly wage, so congratulations on being in the top-half of the economy, buddy!) Now, sure, a standard recipe only needs about 3 ounces of Parmigiano, and 1 of Pine nuts, but that’s still $8 just for those nuts and cheese to make sauce, and you cannot buy that shit in 2-3 ounce quantities. You have to drop 20 bucks, and then either make a lot of pesto, or come up with other uses for it in the meanwhile.

This recipe, on the other hand, trims down the ingredients a little, and the stuff it leaves you with is a little more familiar to the average American home cook to whip into more things. So let’s stop jibber-jabbing, and get on with the mashing, because, again, I am definitely NOT writing this after midnight to make up for lost ground, and therefore it is already, technically, Christmas Day for me.

A Time where I ascend to full Snow Santa form.

So, this recipe comes from Bon Appetit, and I was first interested in it a couple weeks ago when I saw a video with Carla Lalli Music making it. I decided I wanted to make it, and bought the core components of the sauce: Fresh Ricotta Cheese, and Walnuts. The ricotta is important, since it forms the core of the ‘white’ color to the white sauce. The Walnuts are important because they’re a cheaper, but still quite delicious, nut.

I then did nothing for several weeks, because Nathan doesn’t LIKE Pesto, so every time I suggested “Hey, I could make a quick White Pesto pasta for dinner”, he semi-politely told me to fuck off, despite never asking what was IN the pesto to see whether or not he’d actually still dislike it. (in his defense, I never tried to explain to him what was in it…but I don’t know what he doesn’t like about Pesto, so I have no idea if it would have helped.) Thus, it wasn’t until I went to Leavenworth that I ended up putting the dish together, which is why the countertops in this section will look different.  

Make it Snow

So, the first step Is toasting some walnuts in a baking sheet in the oven, a process I failed to do, because I could NOT find Joe’s baking sheets, and he was at work, so I wasn’t going to call him to tell me where they were. So I toasted my nuts in a cast-iron pan on the stove, like some sort of Italian prospector.

A very frustrating race-job combination. IF it was a French prospector, I could make a “oui-haw” joke. A Spanish one, a “sí-haw”. But alas, there are few such jokes for the rare range-riding Ciao-boys.

While the nuts toasted, it was time to prep the mise-en-place, which in this case mostly refers to finely grating 2 ounces of Parmagiano-Reggiano, and a clove of garlic.  The Local Leavenworth Cheesemonger only sells their cheese by the quarter-pound, so I had quite a bit left over, and it only cost me about $6. Those grated, it was time for the herbs. While a traditional pesto alla Genovese needs about a CUP of Basil leaves, this pesto calls for fresh oregano, and only needs 2 tsps of it, finely chopped. I picked it up from the local market, where I wasn’t at all mocked for past issues.

Oh, so NOW you have Sage, DAN’S?!

You’ll also need the finely chopped zest of a lemon, and hopefully your nuts are nice and toasty. The Walnuts, I mean.   Your scrotum’s ambient temperature isn’t super relevant. Anyway, let your toasted walnuts cool a little bit, and finely chop them. Then dump everything you’ve prepped into a bowl, and start a pot of water boiling. While your water heats, just start mashing the sauce together with your spoon. You’re using the walnut bits and the coarse salt as grit to scrape the elements into paste.

Good news, kindergardeners!
We finally made paste you ARE allowed to eat!

Once everything seems pretty incorporated and your water is at a boil, salt the pot and add some nice tube pasta. Meanwhile, you keep mixing the sauce together while drizzling in olive oil, a little bit at a time. You’re trying fully incorporate the sauce together and get it a little looser. Once it looks nice and wet, you’re ready to wait for the pasta water from the boiling pot. It’s an important ingredient, since the heat will melt the Parmesan and soften the ricotta in the…oh SHIT. THE RICOTTA. FUCK. You’ve got like, 3 minutes to scoop out a half-cup of ricotta, and thoroughly mix it together with the other ingredients before the pasta is done.

It should end up looking kinda like Ranch dressing.

Then, once you’ve finished panic beating your nuts and cream, it’s time to get wet and slip into the tubes. (Yes, I did do that intentionally. If I have to suffer, you do too. Merry Christmas.) Add the hot pasta water, and stir the whole thing together. Then, drain your pasta, and add it to the bowl. The next bit is pretty important: You gotta beat the SHIT outta that bowl.

See, the pasta’s going to have surface starches, and by stirring it heavily and quickly with the pasta water and rest of the sauce, it’s going to thicken the sauce, leading it to coat the noodles better. But this takes a fair bit more activity than you might think, with about 2 straight minutes of stirring, tossing, and folding everything together. By the end of it, it’s going to come together in a pretty nicely textured sauce.

Which is to say, “sticky”.

I’ve seen some complaints that the sauce can be pretty salty if you over-salt your water, but I went with something like 3 tablespoons and I thought it might be UNDER salted in the end. The sauce is…very interesting. My biggest complaint is that I think I didn’t/couldn’t chop my lemon peel fine enough, as I would occasionally get bigger chunks of lemon peel, and it was a little disconcerting to get these bursts of citrus. I also think that it kind of worked against itself, since the sauce is, other than cheese, salt, and fat, basically derives all its unique flavor from the oregano and lemon, and, to me at least, “herbs and citrus oils” is an aroma I associate more with cleaning products than food, so I did have a slight bit of “huh, this tastes kind of like how soap smells” difficulty in parsing it. It was still solid enough that I had two bowls of it, and Joe ate the rest of the recipe that very night, but I could see someone getting put off by it. Overall, I think it was a success

What can I say, I’m a sucker for cheese and nuts during the holidays.

Now, how does all of this relate to the holidays? Well, I don’t know about you all, but this is a pretty constant-cooking time in my household. Constant baking, roasting, cold nights, etc. But this bad boy is an elegant dinner ready in 30-ish minutes, and uses ingredients that can be transitioned into other dishes great for the season: Got a lot of ricotta left over? Maybe make Lasagna. Need to use up extra Walnuts? Make cookies or a nut mix.  Or just take the night off early, and let future you figure things out.

We’re so thankful for our patreon supporters who help make this site a reality. We couldn’t do it without you all, and stay tuned for an announcement from Jon soon. And Jon the Snow Santa also couldn’t deliver these presents of posts without the help of his Social Media elves, who share our content, invite their friends to like our Facebook page, re-tweet us, and generally spread the word. They’re our magical little helpers!

SINCE WE GOT DELAYED,  AND MY SCHEDULE IS ON FIRE, I WOULDN’T EXPECT A POST UNTIL THE 6TH. HAPPY HOLIDAYS, MERRY CHRISTMAS, AND HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE. MAY YOUR TIME WITH FAMILY BE JOYOUS, MAY YOU GET WHAT YOU NEED, AND I HOPE THE NEXT YEAR GIVES YOU ALL YOU COULD ASK FOR.

Recipe

White Pesto

Ingredients

½ cup walnuts

Kosher salt

4 oz. fresh ricotta

Zest of 1 lemon

1 garlic clove, finely grated

2 tsp. finely chopped oregano

2 oz. finely grated Parmesan (about 1½ cups), plus more for serving

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

Freshly ground black pepper

1 lb. tube- or rod-shaped pasta (such as rigatoni or spaghetti)

Preparation

1. Preheat oven to 350°. Toast walnuts on a rimmed baking sheet, tossing once, until golden brown, 6–8 minutes. Let cool, then finely chop. Bring a large pot of generously salted water to a boil.

2. Vigorously mix walnuts, ricotta, lemon zest, garlic, oregano, and 2 oz. Parmesan in a large bowl until well combined. Add oil 1 Tbsp. or so at a time, stirring well after each addition, until all the oil is incorporated. Season pesto with salt and pepper.

3. Cook pasta in pot of boiling water, stirring occasionally, until al dente. Scoop 1 cup pasta cooking liquid into bowl with pesto and stir gently to combine (it’s okay if some of the pesto is still in small clumps). Using a spider, tongs, or slotted spoon, transfer pasta directly to bowl with pesto. Mix energetically until pesto thickens enough to lightly coat pasta, about 2 minutes; the pasta should have sauce clinging to it but there should also be some extra sauce that collects in bottom of bowl.

4. Divide pasta among bowls and serve with more Parmesan alongside for sprinkling over.