When my Mom came to visit during my senior year of college I knew exactly how we were going to spend our time together. In between classes we would see the city and at night I would cook meals that would blow her socks off, finally convincing her I possessed culinary skill. Up until that point my family did not have an exceedingly high opinion of the food I made, and rightly so. When I left home at seventeen years old they had only seen me make two things successfully: Mac N’ Cheese from the box and apple cobbler. The latter was actually pretty good, but it later played a starring role in a kitchen fiasco that involved fire, smoke, a screaming landlord and a failed attempt to impress my then boyfriend (now husband).
But things had changed since then. Now I could make a grilled cheese without turning its crispy, golden crust into something that resembled congealed ashes. I could make scrambled eggs that were fluffy and firm, and seasoned so adeptly that ketchup was rendered unnecessary. And, perhaps most importantly, I had learned how to cook a pot of pasta without turning the noodles to mush. I think you will agree that these were all dramatic improvements.
However, my mother was unaware of these developments because she lived in California, while I studied in Massachusetts. Sure I shared my excitement over a perfectly puffed souffle but she didn’t believe me. In fact, if it weren’t for this blog my grandmother still wouldn’t believe that I can make brioche or pot pies from scratch. She needed the photographic evidence to sway her, not to mention your kind comments that prove the recipes I post really do work and that they really are scrumptious. Like, en serio Nana, I can cook.
This is what I was up against five years ago when my Mom stepped off that plane and I brought her home for dinner. I had obsessed over the menu for days, debating main courses and even cultural influences. Should I cook Mexican food, the cuisine of my heritage? Classic American? Italian? And what about dessert? Oh god! Many possible dishes were rejected before finally settling upon a baked rigatoni dish made with vegetables simmered in red wine. It was, and remains, one of my favorite meals, with its heavy cream, Romano cheese and overtones of thyme and rosemary. It’s the kind of dish you expect to find in fine restaurants and a meal that has since caused dinner guests to ask things like: “Are you sure you’ve never taken professional cooking classes?” Yes, this dinner was going to forever change the way my family saw me.
When we arrived home my Mom settled in and my boyfriend kept her company, while I went to work in the kitchen. I prepared the tomatoes, eggplant, onion, celery and zucchini, lightly fried them in olive oil, then added red wine, thyme and a dash of salt and pepper. While the wine reduced over a medium flame, I cooked the pasta. Both the finished pasta and the reduced vegetables were then added to a buttered casserole dish, tossed together, and generously drizzled with a sauce made from cream, Romano cheese, eggs, rosemary, parsley and nutmeg. Do you see how gourmet this dish is? Eveything baked until the cheese was slightly browned and, to top it all off, half-way through baking I sprinkled bread crumbs and freshly grated Parmesan cheese over the top. Not long afterwards, I opened the oven and was engulfed in the aroma of toasted cheese, herbs and vegetables.
As the pasta cooled I set the table with my finest dinnerware, placed a crisp salad on the table and unveiled a fresh loaf of bread from the bakery down the street (this was before my bread making days). I served the pasta and placed the plates before everyone.
It was at this point, about two seconds after I put the dish of finely prepared pasta in front of my Mom, that she quietly reached into her purse and pulled out a bottle of Cholula Mexican Hot Sauce. My jaw dropped, my voice caught, and before I could utter a word she began generously dousing her pasta with hot sauce. Hot sauce! On my gourmet dish! “What on earth are you doing?!” I whispered, finding my voice. “What?” she asked, and it was at this point that my boyfriend (now my husband) burst into laughter, knowing full-well how much work had gone into this and reacting to the mother-daughter situation the only way he knew how.
“Aren’t you going to at least try the pasta before drowning it in hot sauce?!” I asked, though given my Mom’s memory of my cooking I couldn’t blame her. “There are subtle flavors in there Mom, great flavors, flavors I agonized over! Rosemary, thyme, nutmeg! Cream Mom, cream! Red wine! And you are covering it with $5 hot sauce?” She stared at me in confused silence before the dawn of understanding traveled across her face. “Oh. I… uh… thought the hot sauce might help.”
Thank God I made more pasta than three people could possibly eat. Recovering from my shock I put fresh pasta - hot sauce free pasta - on another plate, placed it in front of my Mom, and said, “Just try one bite without the hot sauce. If you don’t like it you can have the other plate back. Trust me Mom. OK?”
With doubt-filled eyes she nodded, speared a noodle and a zucchini slice with her fork then, oh so hesitantly, put the contents in her mouth. My Mom is not someone who can mask her emotions, everything shows on her face, and you could plainly see her bracing herself, stealing herself, against the taste. But as she started to chew and the flavors of fine home cooking washed over her, she relaxed. “This is pretty good!” she exclaimed with surprise. “I’m impressed,” she continued, breaking off a piece of bread and smearing it in the pasta sauce, “I don’t think I need the Cholula.”
This is how my Mom discovered my cooking and now, with the benefit of years, we laugh about it. But to this day I place a bottle of Cholula Mexican Hot sauce on the table whenever I serve this dish to her. She blushes, I smile and my husband shakes his head. It’s our inside joke.
Baked Rigatoni with Red Wine Vegetables and Creamy Sauce
Adapted from “The Pasta Bible.”
Tools: Large casserole dish, knife, large pot, large saucepan, large bowl.
Ingredients: Makes 5-6 servings.
- 1 lb rigatoni
- butter for greasing the baking dish, about 1 tbs
- 4 tablespoons butter, melted
- 1 small eggplant, cut into small cubes
- 1 large zucchini, thinly sliced
- 2 celery stalks
- 1 garlic clove, minced
- 3 large ripe tomatoes
- 1/4 cup olive oil
- 1/4 cup minced Vidalia onion
- 1 tablespoon dry thyme
- 1/2 cup dry red wine
- 1/2 tablespoon kosher salt
- Black pepper to taste
- 1 cup grated Romano cheese, freshly grated if possible
- 1 cup heavy cream
- 1 egg yolk plus 1 egg, whisked together
- 1 tablespoon mixed dry herbs: parsley & rosemary
- Salt and black pepper, to taste
- Freshly grated nutmeg, to taste
- 1/4 cup fine white bread crumbs
- 1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
For the cream sauce:
For the bread crumb topping:
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F and put a large pot of water on to boil.
Remove the stem ends from your eggplant and cut the eggplant into small cubes. Thinly slice the zucchini and celery. Peel and mince the garlic. Mince the onion.
When the water has come to a boil cut a small X in the bottoms of your tomatoes, just deep enough to pierce the skin. Place the tomatoes in the water and blanch them for 1 to 2 minutes, until you see the skin begin to peel off. With a slotted spoon remove the tomatoes and place them in a large bowl filled with cold water. Peel, seed and dice the tomatoes. Set aside.
Rinse the pot and refill it with water. Set over high heat and bring the water to a boil.
In the meantime, heat the oil in your sauce pan and saute the onion and garlic until translucent. Add the eggplant, zucchini and celery, fry over high heat for 4 to 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Add the diced tomatoes and thyme, season with salt and pepper, and add the red wine. Cook uncovered over high heat until the vegetables are soft and the liquid has reduced by half. Remove from the heat when done. (A good way to judge whether the liquid has reduced by half is to stick the handle end of a wooden spoon into the pot just after the wine has been added. Now you have a visual measurement of how much liquid there was at the beginning. The mixture is done when the handle measures half of the original height.)
When the water has come to a boil add a generous dash or two of salt. Cook the rigatoni until almost al dente, about 1 minute less than the package recommended cooking time. While the pasta is cooking butter your casserole dish. Drain the pasta, add it to the casserole dish, then add in the vegetables. Mix well.
To make the creamy sauce whisk the Romano cheese with the cream and eggs, add the herbs and season with a pinch of salt, pepper and fresh nutmeg. One or two grates of the nutmeg should suffice. Pour the sauce over the pasta and vegetables.
Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, moistening the top occasionally with the melted butter. Halfway through baking mix the bread crumbs and Parmesan together, then sprinkle over the top of the dish and moisten with some of the melted butter. Allow the pasta to cool and set for 5 to 10 minutes before serving.
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This entry was posted on Saturday, April 21st, 2007 by Ariela and is filed under Main Dishes. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
39 Responses for "The Hot Sauce Incident"
I’m laughing, remembering my own experiences learning how to cook — and my mom was a terrible cook, so I certainly tried not to learn anything from her. I confess that one of my pet peeves is people who reach for salt or pepper to season food without tasting it. Occasionally at a restaurant, when I’m offered pepper for my food, I have been known to ask the waitperson, “Did the kitchen send out food that isn’t seasoned correctly?” My husband hides his head. Your recipe looks delicious, and though I love hot sauce, I’d never put it on something as luscious as this!
Ha, that’s really funny. But you’re Mac and Cheese has always been the best. You are the queen of Mac and Cheese hands down. Don’t underestimate the power of the blue box!
But yes, you have become a lot better cook. *High Five*
Oh, my!. lol… Moms can sometimes do something without thinking it all the way thru. I think in this case, she was so happy to be spending time with you and she felt so comfortable, she did what she always does…reach for the hot sauce!
I’m glad though, she gave your cooking skills a second chance and let you know she was impressed. I’m pretty sure you can cook anything you want for her now and she will be very, very happy to indulge. It’s great that it’s a memory that brings a smile to each of you and you laugh about it now. Those times are priceless.
Your dish looks simply delicious!
What a great story!
The pasta looks delicious! Thank you for sharing the recipe!
What a cute story, Ari!!! And I just love this pasta. Baked pasta has become one of my very favourite things!
That was a great story! I was laughing and had to show my boyfriend.
The dish looks fantastic, I love baked pasta.
LOL! Love your story!
Paz
What a lovely story. Isn’t it true, we always want our family to see us for what we’ve become, rather than what we used to be.
Just found your blog (via Vanilla Garlic). I’ll be back!
Hah! I love it - what a great story that perfectly details mother-daughter relations
Fortunately my ma does believe that I’m alright in the kitchen, but I’ll give this dish a try next time I think I might need to prove myself in her arena 
After weeks of take out, my husband and I have started cooking home made dinners every night. This recipe is going right on the list of stuff we are making. It looks so good, so creamy. It looks so good I think I will be able to keep my huband’s large collection of hot sauces away from it.
KInd of sounds like my dad. He tries to drown everything in salt before he even tries anything.
Ari, I loved that story. It really hit home. Trying to convince your parents that you are grown up and not the same person you always were is not easy. The pasta looks great too :).
What a wonderful story! I’m going to print this off and make it, but I’ll call it Ari’s pasta
(no hot sauce required!!!).
KJxx
great story and awesome looking/sounding recipe. have bookmarked it to try
my father automatically douses anything you put in front of him with a combo of hot sauce and soy sauce, so i definitely felt your pain!
I’m supposed to be working right now, instead I am dying with laughter over this story! It resonates very strongly with me.. it’s so good to have come ’round that bend.
Love the pasta recipe, it sounds just right for mid-week pasta night.
The pasta looks yummy! My mum is just the same! She always wants to smother food, regardless of whether it’s a delicate risotto or a roast chicken, with Sweet Chilli Dipping Sauce! Still, at least she’s being adventurous!
Ari, that is just such a great story. i laughed. thank you.
Ari,
It is funny that you mention the Daily Puppy. That is how Beo got his brother Jax, and over the weekend Jax almost got a brother of his very own… I cannot resist puppies!
Molly
http://cuppa-cuppa.blogspot.com
Hi Ari,
I love this story, I can’t stop laughing.
This pasta dish sounds amazing!!
Take care,
I just looove that story! Somehow I always imagined you a natural culinary genius since birth, so it’s nice to know that maybe there’s hope for the rest of us!
My mom has NEVER tasted my cooking. =( Only my brothers have and they are ok with what I cook. Some of the stuff they even really like! =) And of course my mom is baffled when she hears about this. =(
Oh what a fantastic post! I can relate all too well. My mother rarely came to the table when I was younger without something chilli based. She even does it at restaurants!
My mother in law would pour a whole salt shaker on it even before trying it. I love the story behind the dish. I love the pasta dish even better. Look at all that creamy goodness!
Lydia - I don’t blame her. It may be hard to believe now that I’m a foodblogger but the food I used to cook - it was BAD. Thank God those days are over!
Christopher - Aw, thanks little bro. You’re right, the blue box has strange and mysterious powers. After all, it did get me through college before I knew how to cook. Breakfast, lunch and dinner!
Ruth L - Those times ARE priceless. No doubt about it. I often think back upon the times I’ve spent with my family, especially since leaving home, and usually those memories make me smile or laugh.
Caitlyn - Thank you, and you’re welcome!
Ivonne - Baked pasta is such a comfort dish to me, I just love it.
Amy - I’m glad I could make you laugh! Your comment made me smile for that reason.
Paz - Thank you!
Tea - Glad you dropped by! There are many things my family still thinks about me that aren’t true anymore, but at least now they know I’m a good cook. That’s the important thing, lol.
Ellie - I never thought my mom and I would have moments like this until I started to grow up and become my own woman. Funny how relationships change and grow, and funny how much of that tension can be revealed through food!
Cheryl - I hope you enjoy the dish! I’m not sure if it’s weeknight fare since it takes about 50 minutes to make in total, but if you have the time then this is definitely going to become a mid-week pick me up.
Peabody - Parents! What can we do with them except love them for who they are?
Timi - I’m happy you enjoyed the story.
It is hard trying to convince our parents of that - still doing it myself! - but I guess that’s all part of the journey.
Kelly-Jane - Definitely no hot sauce required!
TriniGourmet - Hot sauce and soy sauce! I don’t know what I would have done if my Mom had busted out the soy sauce too!
Your early culinary experiences sound exactly like mine. We’ve both grown quite a bit, haven’t we. Cute hot sauce story! Love it!
S’Kat - I think most of us have to come round that bend sometime or another, it’s a culinary rite of passage. I’m happy I broke up your work schedule with a bit of laughter!
Freya - Speaking of being adventurous with sauces, when I was a kid I used to put salad dressing on everything. In tacos, on pizza (I swear Dominos got the idea from me!) even on my Mom’s cooking. Maybe she was paying me back? lol
Connie - Aw, you’re welcome. And thank YOU for the sweet comment.
Molly - Dangerous, I’m telling ya!
Monika - Glad I could bring a smile to your face!
Andi - I was definitely not born a culinary genius. Definitely not! In fact, I still have so very much to learn about cooking and baking.
Tarie - Maybe you should cook for your Mom and give her first hand experience of your best dishes!
Truffle - Ha! I love that your Mom takes chili with her when she eats out. I have relatives who do that too, because “it’s best to be prepared.”
Helen - Poor you! To be such a fantastic cook and have your MIL cover it all in salt! I feel your pain. MIL’s are something else!
Hi Ari - that’s a great story! LOL!
This dish sounds so delicious and comforting!
boring? you are so not boring! i love your site! I LOVE FOOD!
Hi Ari - thanks for swinging by my blog! I’m very glad you did - I’m really enjoying reading yours!
That story is hilarious…I think we all have someone in our lives who just can’t leave good food alone. My grandfather douses everything in salt, my father in Tabasco, my boyfriend in black pepper.
LOL, loved your hot sauce story. And that dish looks incredible.
OMG! Thank you so much for sharing this story! It’s hilarious. (Reminds me of the time my mom doused her rice with soy sauce because she didn’t trust the cook…)
Kristen - Yup, things sure have changed since the teen years.
Gilly - Thanks! It is a very comforting dish, one of those pastas that is delicious straight out of the oven and heated up as leftovers the next day.
Lily - Aw shucks thanks! But I still think you are way cooler than me. I may cook with fire, but I don’t dance with it!
Christianne - Thank you, and it was my pleasure to drop by your site! My Mom doesn’t usually put hot sauce on her food. It’s just that my cooking had such a bad reputation she came prepared!
Erin - Thank you.
Veuveclicquot - We all have our weapon of choice! Your Mom’s is soy sauce, my Mom’s is hot sauce, lol.
Great story!
What a great, memorable story! And I know how you must have felt - before I left for school no one thought I could fend for myself in the kitchen. My mom would send up tons of food she’d made for me to take back up to school when I visited. Then after a few months I told her i’d not longer needed it because I was slowly working up my skill in the kitchen. Of course my dad and brother laughed and my mom was sure I was going hungry and insisted that I at least take a few meals along. And so I had to make a full meal with dessert (your Cinnamon Spiced Blueberry cake! They devoured it!) before they could believe me. Though my mom won’t admit it, I believe she had a back up meal prepared just in case mine didn’t come through haha!
That pasta looks really delicious! Thank you for generously sharing the recipe of your award winning dish!
I love your story! I know what you mean…I was so nervous the first time I had my mom (and grandma and grand-aunt!) over for dinner. I was sweating bricks! It’s a good thing everything turned out well
My mom was so happy…to be able to show off my cooking to her mom…go figure! It never ends…hahaha! 
Thats’ a great story! Sounds like a very yummy dish!!!
That’s a great story, Ari. It reminds me of the scene in the book and movie The Joy Luck Club where one of the girls boyfriend’s liberally doused a dish with soy sauce. It was painful to watch! And of course that book is all about mother / daughter relationships and the minefields involved therein.
Brilynn - Thanks!
Khadeeja - What an amazing comment! I’m so glad you and your family enjoyed the spiced blueberry cake!
Joey - I love it, that dinner was a triple generation cooking fest!
Pam - Thank you, and it is!
Utenzi - Well now I have to pick up a copy of The Joy Luck club. I’ve seen it before and passed it by, but how can I continue to do so now that I know about the soy sauce scene?