I feel like everyone’s dad has a signature dish. And I’m just going to say it: My dad’s spaghetti is the best. Or at least, it’s the best for this time of year — a big bowl of warm, salty, flavorful comfort. The craving hits me like clockwork in the first week of January, and while my dad would argue that I like it so much simply because he’s made it for me, in this case, that’s just not true. My dad died 11 months ago, and though I’m still feeling profound grief, I can also safely say I love this pasta just as much when I make it for myself. Sorry, Dad!
The recipe itself is simple — almost suspiciously so. It’s garlic, crushed tomatoes, olive oil and salt. Yet it took me years of practice and pestering phone calls to get it right. I didn’t understand how my dad could turn such basic ingredients into a sauce that looked like nothing on top of spaghetti yet exploded with such deep flavor — it seemed like a magic trick.
In fact, there are two tricks to this pasta, both decidedly mundane: the proportions and the cooking temperature. The proportions are ridiculous — you’re going to use so much garlic. More than that. No, more. And get this? You’re not going to brown it. You’re not even going to turn on the heat until the very end, and then you’re barely going to turn the knob. It’s going to feel completely wrong while you’re doing it. The day I finally nailed this dish was the day I ignored all my own cooking instincts and just did what my dad said. That’s not always the right move, but sometimes — okay, fine — it is.
My Dad’s Spaghetti
8-10 cloves of garlic (I told you)
3/4 cup olive oil, or a little more
1 28-oz can of crushed tomatoes (without basil), ideally Red Pack or Cento
1 box cappellini
Salt, for pasta water
Dad Notes: The first thing my dad would tell you is that you have to buy good canned tomatoes, ideally Red Pack or Cento. He’d then repeat this advice because it’s important. Got it? Great. The second thing he would tell you is that cappellini is not the same thing as angel hair, and angel hair is too thin.
Mince or press your garlic. If the cloves are on the smaller side, definitely use 10 — you want a good pile of garlic. Add it to a saucepan with olive oil (don’t turn on the heat yet!). There should be enough oil to completely cover the garlic and then some.
Add the crushed tomatoes to the pot, and now turn the heat on low. Let it hang out there for a while, warming up but not simmering. You may need to crank it to medium-low, but don’t let it reach a simmer. Again, with this sauce we’re not really “cooking” so much as “heating.” The flavors will meld and the garlic will mellow, but it’ll still have a good bite when you’re done. Nudge the sauce with a wood spoon every now and then, to work in the oil — though it won’t incorporate completely (another one of those proportion keys!).
While the sauce is heating up, boil your pasta in well-salted water. When I say well-salted, I mean a couple shakes more than you’d usually do. We’re not adding any salt to the sauce, so a saltier pasta is important for balance. Cook the pasta until just shy of al dente (I do about 2 minutes for cappellini; it will finish cooking in the sauce), then drain and quickly dump the whole thing into the sauce. Turn the heat off, and toss the pasta until it’s well coated, and your kitchen is full of divine, garlicky steam.
Serve immediately. I like this pasta with nothing on top, but if you’re a fan of fresh parm, go for it. That’s what my dad would do.
So, what’s your favorite Dad Dish? Please share, if you’d like, especially if it includes very serious guidelines; those details are the best part.
P.S. Alex Beggs shares her dad’s delicious turkey meatloaf, and if you’re still in a spaghetti mood, how about a spaghetti PIE?
