Food You Can Eat: Cousin Matthew’s Last Supper, Penne Alla Vodka

I started writing this on 2/28/21. In the course of reading that day’s DOT and a couple of unrelated news articles, I realized that 2/28/20 was the last time we had anyone over for dinner. Had I known the social drought was going to last this long I would have gone for something quite a bit more elaborate, but we didn’t know, and really couldn’t have known.

Here’s the entire menu. The only recipe you really need is for the penne, and this is really simple. This feeds eight adults and no, I’m not scaling this down, let this be entered into the record.

About an hour before your guests are due to arrive, get hold of yourself and decide to organize (because there’s always that one who arrives at 5:31 PM if you say, “Oh, I don’t know, come by when you get off work, 5:30 maybe?”) For this dinner I had a huge log of herbed goat cheese and some loss-leader-priced brie, so I put that out so that it got to room temp. I then sliced 4 baguettes, VERY lightly brushed them with olive oil, put the slices on a baking sheet, and warmed for about 5 minutes at 325 degrees. I turned the heat off and left them in there.

I then went to the fridge and got out three bags of bagged wholesale club salad mix. I combined these in one large bowl, covered but did not add dressing, and then put back in the fridge.

People started arriving. I arranged the cheeses on two plates and took out half the baguette slices and stationed The Better Half at the bar to be the mixologist. I also had some jam, fig or apricot I think, so I put that out, along with a box of Stoned Wheat Thins. Remember those? The Ravenous Hound was the official greeter. I really have to train him to gently clutch coats in his maw and jump them up on the bed for me.

FOR THE PENNE ALLA VODKA

This goes fairly quickly so once (almost) everyone is settled in get to work.

Get a big pot of boiling water going. While that’s happening, dump the entire contents of a 28-oz. can of San Marzano whole, peeled tomatoes into a food processor or blender and purée. Just leave it in the bowl or pitcher, no need to decant. Pour 2 12-oz. or 3 8-oz. boxes of penne into the boiling water. Depending on the brand, do what it advises you to do to get something not super-al dente but you don’t want the penne to be really limp; the vodka sauce is a little liquid-y to begin with.

In a large (pretty large) saucepan melt 2 or 3 tbls. butter. Add 1 head garlic, minced, 1 medium onion, diced, and some red pepper flakes. Let this cook for about a minute over medium heat. Pour in the tomato purée, stir it around, and then pour in some vodka. It doesn’t have to be particularly high-end, but it should be something that won’t blind you. Use about 1/2 cup, maybe more. Reduce the heat to medium low, stirring, and let this go for a few minutes until it starts reducing. Now add 12 oz. (1 1/2 cups) of heavy cream and 4 oz. of grated Parmesan cheese. Simmer this for another few minutes, stirring. You’ll see it thicken more.

At some point the penne is done so remove that and drain. Once you’re ready, pour the sauce and the pasta back into the pasta pot (which you’ve emptied of water, because you’ve drained the penne) and mix this all around. Serve individually in bowls. Accompany with the bagged salad (now is the time to add the dressing and toss in the huge bowl) and the remainder of the baguette slices stashed in the oven.

For my Last Supper, one of the attendees brought a truckload of Italian cookies, so that was dessert, and then we played a game of my own devising. I don’t know how we did this in the days before the smartphone, but we somehow managed in our poverty days. Ask everyone to think of a weird trivia fact that might not be generally known. Appoint one person to be the fact checker and only they can have online access. Everyone else has to put their phones away. I can’t believe I remember this so vividly. One of my facts was, “How tall was Julius Caesar?” “Oh, that’s a good one, Mattie! Was he tall by Roman standards?” “No hints allowed.” “Hmmm. He was probably tall, because I think I know he came from a prominent family, so they were probably well-fed, but how tall was the average Roman 2,000 years ago?” The Better Half chimed in, “They must have been tiny, because the last time we were in Rome I couldn’t find anything to fit me, I would have to have had something custom-made—” “No hints.” The correct answer is 5′ 7″.