Sure, a basic amatriciana is nice and cute, and annoyingly ‘authentic.’ But a truly great amatriciana knows the power of a little sugar and spice.

It’s Sunday in 2026, and everyone is still talking about Roman pasta dishes in their grandest purity, still. No butter in cacio e pepe, no cream in carbonara. Hell, even England’s crown jewel, Olivia Dean, declares no peas or cream in her signature recipe to swoon guests in a land where canned carbonara is a thing.

Why do we even care so much?

Now, listen, I am quite a purist at heart. But cool traditions are born when other traditions are bent, challenged, or simply broken.

Amatriciana is my fav to discuss because she isn’t even Roman.

She is an abruzzese bitch, total contadino shit that used to have 0 pomodoro, aka the real lowkey roman pasta star: gricia. We will talk about that ancient babe later.

Amatrice is in the heart of all glorious things cured - where do you think such sexy guanciale came from? The Amatriciani (those from Amatrice in Abruzzo) know their cured meat shit.

The amatriciana dish surely evolved in Rome, as abruzzesi flocked to the Eternal City for work and eventually opened up osterie to share their mighty recipes with Romans.

But the abruzzesi babes are contadini at heart. Meaning, if they got something good going to waste, that will elevate the dish - it’s going in the pot.

And that’s alliums, babe. onions, leeks, whatever.

***I must note I’m not speaking for all abruzzesi because some will 100% disagree with me lol.***

Still, to me, contadino shit is contadino shit. And onions do a miraculous job at complementing guanciale, tomatoes, and pecorino cheese. Especially if you do not have enough guanciale hanging around!

This dish can be easily made vegetarian by omitting guanciale. Extra blasphemous, but what do we hedonists care? Add more pecorino and its a party.

pasta all’amatriciana con i porri (amatriciana with leeks, or any alliums rather!)

For me, I find leeks are even better than a little sweet white onion or red onion. But any will work.

feeds 4 people (or 2 fattissima people)

ingredients:

• Roughly one box of pasta - mezze maniche or rigatoni ideally (you can also use long pasta, but I prefer short)

• roughly 5-6 oz (150g) of guanciale, sliced into chunks. Not too thin. (no pancetta/bacon, please, but if that’s all you got, fine, FINE.)

• 1 and a half 14 oz cans of whole tomatoes (roughly 500-600g)

• 1/2 large leek, chopped OR 1 small (half a large) sweet or red onion cut into half moons

• 1 cup of freshly grated pecorino romano cheese (save at least 2/3 for the recipe and the rest for garnish)

• a glass of white wine

• Black pepper, as needed

• optional: a little bit of pepperoncino (if you prefer things hot)

method:

• Boil that pasta water

• Pick your fav pan. Add the guanciale before turning on the heat.

• Turn the heat on to medium-low. Allow the guanciale to cook slowly and become crispy.

• Carefully remove guanciale once crispy. Set aside. NO SOFT GUANCIALE in the SAUCE. Yuck.

• Now, you can keep all the oil from the guanciale if you like a juicier, more unctuous sauce. But it is salty, so you will need to be extra mindful about the salt in your pasta water and the pecorino cheese later. I prefer to remove about half the oil.

• Place the pan back onto the heat, adding in leeks or onions (you can add some peperoncino here if you want.)

• Add a half glass of white wine to make a little allium broth.

• Cook everything until the alcohol evaporates, and everything is soft, right before caramelization

• Salt your pasta water gently. Then butta la pasta!

• Crush the tomatoes with your hands, adding them to the sauce

• Add in a good amount of pepper as you please (this isn’t like cacio e pepe - pepper is a little accessory, not the main diva here)

• Let the sauce simmer over the lowest heat setting for at least 5 minutes.

• Grate your pecorino now if you have yet to do so!

• Add the guanciale right before adding the pasta.

• When the pasta is ready, add it directly to the pan. Coat the pasta in the sauce.

• Remove the pan from the heat, and add at least 2/3 of the pecorino romano. Stir it all into sexy bliss.

• Serve with extra pecorino romano on top and a hint of black pepper if you like an extra kick.

e BUON APPETITO MY BABEz!

Let me know your thoughts on this recipe blasphemy.

Xx,

Victoria

That sad celery, its leaves, those leeks, the broccoli stems, and more are all waiting to be cindarella-fied into a juicy ragu to inspire a sexy pasta situation of your dreams.

This recipe will clean out your fridge, give you less stinky garbage, and add another fabulous thing to freeze for those days you can’t be bothered to touch the stove.

I know you have a nonna deep down inside you

My ingredients list is always a little rough, and the method is more of a map. Because when in doubt about where to go, channel that inner nonna inside of you. Whether that requires singing into a wooden spoon or chugging a glass of wine - trust me, she’s there.

That’s why this is more of a technique rather than a recipe, like all my recipes really - a guideline to getting you in the kitchen and making some contadino shit forever.

Zero waste over zero waist. You feel me?

THE WORLD NEEDS TO STOP TARGETING OUR BODIES. We want to eat pasta, and we want to eat it ALL.

BACK TO RAGU! LASAGNA! & PASTA!

I bippity-boppity-booed this delicious ragu into a crazy-good lasagna. I used fresh lasagna sheets I had previously frozen, and turned the remaining milk in my fridge into a luscious besciamelle (my recipe here!)

*highly advise reading the cooking notes at the bottom for some contadino secrets!*

GREEN GODDESS AF ZERO WASTE RAGÙ (plus LASAGNA RECIPE)

This post features precious slutti recipe and secrets that I usually gatekeep. A perk of my paid subscription is full access to every single recommendation and recipe I make. If you enjoy my work (e.a, you want all my secrets hehe), consider upgrading your subscription. No matter what you do, I am so happy that you’re here reading this funky little newsletter of mine. :)

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speaking of the devil…

BEWARE OF THE IDES

If there’s one reason I love March its because of the Ides, Julez Caesar’s death day. And Women’s History Month of course.

And SPRING! Because winter is too bitter for me babe. When…

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Yes, it is seen as quite flagrant to grate parmigiano on top of your side of spinaci at a restaurant. But have these bastards ever tried the beauty that is creamed spinach?

Fortunately, it seems like those who tend to prove these bastards wrong is pasta, and …

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It’s that easy.

the only photo of me and my sauce [its embarrasing]

Besciamella may be more principessa shit than contadino shit historically. Its original name is béchamel, though I can’t be bothered to pronounce things in French because I sound well stupid. Béchamel is the queen mother of sauces in France, born to please the fancy taste buds of the French court in the 17th century. The name was gifted in honor of King Louis XIV’s right-hand man, Louis de Béchamel.

He wasn’t even a chef.

Naturally, the Italians have proof that they did not get béchamel from the French. (The food nationalism runs deep, even if they share borders.) And funny enough, the grandmamma to besciamella was some real deal contadino shit.

Salsa colla, or ‘glue sauce’, is what Italians say is the precursor; a 15th-century sauce made of simmering any leftover collagen-filled parts of the animal (bone, cartilage, skin, and connective tissue) to make a thick sauce.

I am sure you’re thinking - I’ll take the French béchamel.

Don’t worry, today’s Italian cream sauce not only has no meat, but also has nearly the same name. Besciamella does sound oddly like béchamel…

Bringing us back to 2026…where we always have a carton of milk that we never finish in the fridge, especially after the holidays. And it’s screaming:

TURN ME INTO BESCIAMELLA BABY! PLEASEEEEE DON’T POUR ME DOWN THE DRAIN!!!

the besciamella technique

• A good ratio to keep in mind here is - 1 tablespoon milk: 1 tablespoon of flour, then 1 cup of milk. The result is usually around 1 cup of besciamella.

• Start with the roux: Melt the butter over med-low heat, and gently add flour, stirring. Don’t brown, just dissolve the flour. If its thickening too fast, lower the heat.

• Now for the besciamella: Carefully whisk in milk. If it’s cold milk, even slower.

• Keep stirring as it thickens; besciamella rewards patience, not high heat.

• Once all the milk is added and the sauce is thick, season with a little salt. Then let it cook, stirring until it coats the back of a spoon.

• Now the grated nutmeg question: Traditional? Sure. Mandatory? No. If you don’t have it, don’t panic. A tiny pinch of white pepper works. So does black pepper, used sparingly. A bay leaf steeped in the milk can also be sexy. Or, after the besciamella is cooked, you can add a hefty pinch of parmigiano.

A good lasagna needs about 2-3 cups of besciamella for a 9 x 13-inch pan. A slutti af american lasagna probably needs 4. At that point its just a mac n cheese, and you might as well throw a pound of cheddar in your besciamella while you’re at it.

On that note…

The slutti casseroles aka hibernation recipes are en route

Of course, that means more one-pot pastas, too!

This all includes my sexy (and GF) winter baked pasta recipe I recently posted on the gram, which relies heavily on this cream sauce technique. Full recipe to come in a few days, but in the meantime - don’t waste your milk and make some damn besciamella.

Besciamella lasts 2-3 days in the fridge, in an airtight container.

Gird your loins for the winter recipes to come, bitches.

Xx,

Victoria

I mean… super cool secret spice blends duh!!!…

a pasta recipe your mother-in-law won’t see coming

While exploring a random town outside of Rome, I discovered a spice mix I had never seen before.

The box was filled with something mostly red, peperoncino or dried red chili flakes with other mysterious ingredients. The box said: AMAZZASUOCERA in bold lettering.

“Mother-in-law killer.”

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Crostini are the core, the heart, and the soul of Italy. The real contadino shit.

We just love toasty old bread.

Yes, the real deal crostini are made with bread that’s a few days past its prime. That’s why these crostini recipes are no hassle, they require literally all the shit you probably already have in your pantry and fridge!

Many of you were extremely curious about the faux paté crostini I posted, and now I am sharing my secret, along with a recipe for the cheesiest, spiciest Christmas crostini that look like little decorations themselves.

Let’s get to some slutti crostini.

remember you have to get your bread a little wet first

(guidelines to good crostini)

Technically, crostini are literally just toasted old bread. Maybe a little olive oil or garlic. But really that’s it.

The key is knowing how to make old bread sexy again, because at the end of the day, that is all it is - toasted old bread.

So here’s how to prep your bread:

Making old bread great again requires getting a little wet. The water will help rehydrate and give your bread life again in the oven.

Once you cut the bread into slices, run each slice quickly under the faucet. The goal isn’t soaking wet - it’s just…moist. Then, throw the slices into a preheated oven (200c/400F) on a tray for a few minutes on both sides until nice and crisp.

cheesy ‘nduja crostini

makes at least 10-12 crostini

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there’s only one rule with these one-pot recipes:

don’t be afraid to break the spaghetti, bitch!

You know winter is coming when the little birds get chubby - specifically the sparrows. Oh, those baby things look so cute and round, waddling around full of nuts and stolen bread.

Here is my go-to recipe to feel like a happy little well-fed bird, just ready for hibernation.

double carbs baby

Pasta e patate is the best of both carb worlds. You get pasta and potatoes. What else is there to love?

This dish is OG contadino shit. Originating in Napoli, pasta e patate evolved from making something out of leftover bits of pasta (pasta mista) along with anything else that would fill and warm bellies. Aka cheese. Smoked goey scamorza cheese. Then, with potatoes introduced after the 16th century, the dish got ridiculously carbilicious.

A guess what? It can also be gluten-free, babes. I got the king celiac Papà Cece’s approval. See cheesiness below.

My dad is always skeptical of the camera…

The special part of this recipe is that I most recently made it for my father who is a celiac. And can say that with the right gluten-free pasta, this dish comes out fabulously as well.

We used jovial brown rice pasta, which gave just the right starchiness.

contadino shit holiday hack!

I don’t want to say blood, sweat, and tears go into these recipes because that would be well - gross. Still, these recipes are curated with love to be a weekly gift to paid subscribers.

If you’d like to receive all my contadino shit business (aka every single one of my recipes), you can upgrade your subscription at anytime. Rumor has it that Santa is offering a slutti discount on memberships at the moment.

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it’s time to break the spaghetti…again! my one pot pasta recipe series is back. And as contadino shit as ever. This time we are talking about one of Rome’s most underrated dishes that I would pick over cacio e pepe anyday, especially with these humid temperatures hitting the bone.

Did you know my last name means ‘chickpea’ in Italian?

Yes, cece, one sing…

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I think this is my favorite contadino shit cooking series I have ever started. There is nothing a big pot of hot and steamy one-pot pasta can’t solve. No waiting for pasta water to boil, and no needing to buy a million ingredients at the store.

I call that a score.

You can find all the recipes in this one-pot series here on this slutti newsletter section!

Roveja is that pea

She’s beauty and she’s grace. She’s Miss without a trace.

Seriously, roveja is like the Queen of Sheba of the legumes. She is a wild diva, a survivor. The Chaka Khan ‘I am every woman’ of the legumes.

In fact, we don’t even know exactly when or where roveja was born. Her genetic makeup? Still unclear. Is she a pure-bred pea? Or a legume in camouflage? What we do know for sure is that roveja is an ancient legume lady, born in the Neolithic era, most likely somewhere in the Middle East.

Then, she vanished.

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WARNING: this newsletter series may cause rampant vegetarianism and pasta blasphemy

October means we are getting SPOOKY. Bubble bubble boil and trouble, babes!

For us aspiring nonnas, that means having some soup on deck. And we aren’t just talking any kind of soup…

One-pot pasta, baby!

No chicken noodle here. We are talking creamy, sexy pasta e fagioli, pasta e lenticchie, pasta e patate… pasta with ALL the good carb diversity mother nature gives us, resulting in a belly full of love to last through this upcoming hibernation season.

With a LOT less dishes to clean…and pasta wasted.

Let the blasphemy begin!

break that spaghetti

What makes Italian one-pot pasta recipes fabulous is that they don’t want your pasta pretty. Spaghetti included. They want you to break that bitch, so she can cook with her friends rigatoni, farfalle, etc, etc.

Say hello to pasta mista: the most contadino shit pasta, and the greatest way to clean out your pasta pantry. Pasta mista is essentially whatever pasta you have around. Of course, you must take into account their different cook times. A big ole pacchero will need a little more TLC than tagliatelle. Besides that, as long as it fits in the pot, we are in good hands!

Today’s recipe, the OG: pasta e fagioli

Whether you’re Italian or Italian American, you know that pasta e fagioli means business… thick business.

Pasta e fagioli (pasta with beans) is something between a pasta and a soup, a sly chameleon that has kept the people in the Italian peninsula alive for centuries. It morphs into different personas depending on where it’s made and what bean it’s made with.

…introducing already a sub-series to this recipe series altogether that brings you:

all the SEXY ITALIAN BEANS BABE!

Want to make Mother Nature happy? Eat more beans and less meat.

The bean versatility she gives us is ridiculous, and we are just sleeping on them… only eating those sad little cannellini beans from a can in our cupboard. It’s time to break out the pot and heirloom spells, babe!

Aka the heirloom beans all around us, which are not only shockingly affordable, but also one of the easiest ways to boost biodiversity, soil health, and support farmers.

Aka Christmas morning for Mother Nature!

This series will feature beans, both Italian and North American, both accessible to all through the mighty World Wide Web.

So, let’s get into this witchy contadino series with our first victim:

pasta e fagioli della stoppia

A velvety hug of bean bliss, this dish with a very special bean leaves you with fewer soup stains and a much meaner scarpetta. Plus, a pasta e fagioli method for all the beans to come.

Fagioli della stoppia hail from the mountains of Abruzzo, specifically around Aquila. These beans are also grown in La Tuscia, a mighty bean paradise in northern Lazio.

This beans got a few names. They also are known as fagioli secondo, fagioli ristoppia, or - on my bean bag - fagioli restoppia. I picked these beans up from a store in the cute town of Santo Stefano di Sessanio in Abruzzo.

This fagioli is ancient and has quite a cute name. It comes from the stoppia or the stubble/’haulm’ of the wheat, where the bean is sown right after the wheat harvest. So, it’s like the second wheat harvest, but surprise - it’s beans, babe!

Fagioli della stoppia are earthy, meaty, and sweet - creating the creamiest bowl of pasta e fagioli that I could ever ask for. The beans require an overnight soak before cooking in just under an hour in salted water with bay leaf and rosemary.

the slutti pasta e fagioli method/recipe

We want our pasta a fagioli thick. Creamy bliss. This is how we do it. No matter the bean!

serves 3-4

ingredients:

• 250 grams of freshly cooked beans with cooking liquid (pictured: our pretty fagioli della stoppia)

• a little soffrito situation** (one carrot, half a small onion, and one celery stick, finely chopped). If you sense a few vampires hanging around, you can also add a clove of chopped garlic, too.

• extra virgin olive oil (a few glugs for cooking and a nice drizzle for garnish)

• pasta (whatever leftover bags you have lying around. Quantity around half a bag)

• aromi: aromatic herbs. I love rosemary. And sometimes a little parsley for a colorful garnish.

• parmigiano rind (optional but highly recommended)

• A DEEP CAULDRON THAT YOU CAN SAFELY (IMMERSION) BLEND IN!

• …and an immersion blender (a regular blender can be substituted, but then it’s no longer a one-pot recipe, so don’t blame me… hehe)

method:

• Finely chop your soffrito ingredients.

• Put your cauldron over medium heat with a few good glugs of oil.

• Add in your soffritto, cooking until just softened. A splash of white wine here is never a bad idea.

• Add in 3/4 of your beans with two good ladles of bean cooking liquid (if you are using a can/jar, fill it with room temp or hot water to get out all the rest of the bean goodness). Everything should look a little soupy - that is what we can do as the next step is blending!

• If your beans aren’t already salted from cooking or the can/jar, add some salt. Stir and let everything cook for just a minute.

• Remove the pot from the heat. With your immersion blender, blend everything.

• Put the pot back over medium heat with a ladle of water and a ladle of bean cooking liquid.

• Bring it all to a boil and add your pasta**, then your parmigiano rind, and rosemary (aromatics).

• Allow pasta to cook according to its cook time, stirring often over medium heat to ensure no pasta or parmigiano rind gets stuck on the bottom of your cauldron.

• If the pasta isn’t ready yet, but the pasta has absorbed most of the liquid, add more hot water.

• Your pasta e fagioli is done when the pasta is cooked to al dente in a thick creamy sauce.

• When the pasta is just about done, add in the remaining whole beans.

• Give everything a good stir. You can also add some chopped parsley if you please, for color.

• Serve with a little rosemary garnish and a drizzle of zesty extra virgin olive oil. Or, a little olio piccante, spicy oil on top.

**Note:

• if you do not have everything for soffrito, do not worry. This is contadino shit, just use what you got! It will taste good, trust me.

• if you are using different pasta shapes, add them in accordance with their cook time. E.a. if the spaghetti takes 10 minutes and the rigatoni 12, add the rigatoni first.

I am so excited for this strega newsletter series, are you?

Let me know - there are all the beans and one-pot pasta recipes to come!!! I promise I will do better at getting photos of the dishes… I am the worst food photographer.

a dopo,

Victoria

Italians may make it seem like we only eat frittata in the spring or summer, but frittata is in fashion year-round, babe. Because if you got the goods and you don’t want to waste, you could gift yourself a seriously slutti lunch situation.

Frittata makes your belly happy, your pockets less empty, and ABOVE ALL, keeps Mother…

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Did you know that old pasta might just be better for your belly?

Apparently, when pasta cools for at least 24 hours, it turns into something called resistant starch. This different kind of gluten digests more slowly, almost like fiber, filling you up and making all your little gut bacteria babies happy.

So, not only will pasta al forno save you money by feeding you for days, it will also save your stomach from any gluten aches, psychosomatic or not.

Pasta al forno is a cornerstone of the Italian kitchen

…one of the few dishes that unifies all the regions in its contadino-ness. Everywhere has a form of past al forno, whether it’s fancy lasagna or it’s slutti contadino marchigiano cousin vincisgrassi.

If you haven’t had vincisgrassi, honestly, you haven’t lived. But that’s a whole other discussion to save for a rainy day.

The best part is you can have a good pasta al forno no matter where you are in the world. It only requires a few ingredients and a strong method. And, most importantly, utilizing whatever you have leftover in your fridge.

Cuz trust me, Mother Nature will reward you in flavor for that.

pasta al forno is the answer to:

• not wasting the cheese you are neglecting in your fridge because some TikTok told you cheese made you break out

• your impending seasonal depression

• not wasting the almost-expired milk in your fridge that you bought for just one recipe

• making use of all canned tomatoes or jarred sauces you stored away in case of rapture

• upgrading the leftover pasta you were thinking about microwaving, but are secretly afraid of radiation

In other words, there’s always a good excuse to make pasta al forno

So here is the slutti pasta al forno method

So you get a sexy meal every time

pasta

Naturally and arguably, the most important ingredient in this. A short pasta, ideally. Rigatoni, mezze maniche, penne, hell, even farfalle can work. Already leftover is best, but fresh is never bad. Especially if you mix the shapes, aka pasta mista, making use of the random pasta bags you got around. Just be mindful of their different cook times.

The real contadino shit is to reuse leftover pasta. If you don’t have a lot leftover, just make a monoporzione (individual portion) of pasta al forno. You can also mix it with more fresh pasta, though the pasta texture may vary throughout the dish.

sauce

Pasta al forno needs lots of sauce. The pasta needs to be hydrated to stay yummy in the oven. A good amount of tomato sauce (either premade/jarred or even just a passata with salt and basil). I say the saucier the better, but if you want a ratio:

1.5 cups of sauce for every 1 lb box of pasta

besciamella (bechamel)

Now, if you want to make this a whole lot sluttier, bechamel will do the trick, especially if you don’t have enough tomato or any at all. Bechamel just adds that little fancy yet slutti touch. Though optional, it will complement the tomato’s acidity. It is also the best way to make use of the milk carton you definitely won’t finish in your fridge. I love adding in some parmigiano to the bechamel to make a nice parmigiano cream.

Bechamel can also stand alone without tomato, especially by adding a dash of…

veggies

Yes, I said it. Vegetables. They are slutti too. Throwing some cooked chopped asparagus, broccoli, or something green in there is never a crime. I personally suggest veggies in a pasta al forno in bianco (sans tomato).

cheese

Pasta al forno without cheese is just not pasta al forno. That’s just a fact. Now, if you use dairy or vegan cheese, that’s totally your business. You do you, boo.

A good pasta al forno has two specific kinds of cheese:

• a soft cheese (ideally stretched curd or pasta filata): think mozzarella, provola (not sharp provolone!!!), scamorza, gorgonzola, god even Polly-O sticks…

If you ain’t wasting it, it’s contadino shit no matter the quality folks

• a hard, aged cheese with a crumbly texture and mega flavor; aka parmigiano reggiano or pecorino romano. Parmesan can work too. Again, no waste is the priority!

Always, always finish your pasta al forno with tons of cheese on top. Layers of mozz and parm just do magic in the oven.

extra virgin olive oil

This is what you need for that flawless skin and above all a crispy croccante AF past al forno crust. A good EVOO drizzle on top will do just a trick. The EVOO will also help with hydration, so be sure to add a good amount to your pasta and tomato.

the oven

Pasta al forno is simple. Bake covered for 25-30 minutes. Then, uncovered for about 10 minutes, with a little 3-5 minute broil at the end. Depends on how powerful your oven is, of course. Just make sure your pasta al forno is uber bubbly before taking off the aluminum foil. When it finishes, it should be pretty with cheesy, crisp pasta that you just can’t wait to put in your mouth.

Pro tip: Add some more mozzarella and parm on top after you bake it covered for extra cheesy juicyness.

the hardest part

The best pasta al forno is one that you wait for, that you let sit for a few hours as the flavors inside become alive.

I know, patience goes out the window with one whiff of hot pasta al forno. That’s why we make a lot, so you can have a little bit while you wait.

And that’s it, folks! I am sure many of you are like ‘duh this is so obvious.’ Still, it’s just me poking you to think about what is lying around in your fridge and what could make you some seriously sexy pasta tonight.

Until the next slutti newsletter!

xx,

Victoria

I’ve clearly been on a zucchini kick lately. Between their flavor and luminous flowers, which seem too pretty to eat, I can’t get enough of these squash babies.

Yes, a reminder that zucchini is a type of squash, and botanically speaking, a fruit. But it’s green, so it essentially is a vegetable. Right? Right.

The zucchine season is ending any moment now. So instead of crying, I made my latest addiction the Neapolitan zucchine alla scapece, aka the sexiest side dish.

Thin medallions of fried zucchini marinated in white wine vinegar, mint, garlic, and extra virgin olive oil. Some even throw a little peperoncino in there to keep things spicy.

Or shall I say caliente!

Yes, these zucchini have Spanish roots, a telenovela past that apparently some Italians don’t want to acknowledge.

Apparently, the ancient Roman cookbook Apicius recorded marinating things in vinegar (aka old wine) about 2000 years ago, and therefore, multiple Italians believe zucchini alla scapece came from that. The name ‘scapece’ is also believed to be rooted in the Latin ex Apicio or ‘from Apicius.’

Let’s put the food nationalism aside for a second to talk about the more probable history behind this dish.

Once upon a time, Southern Italy (from around Gaeta/Napoli area, and south) was under the control of Aragon, a kingdom that makes up modern-day Northeastern Spain. Alfonso V of Aragon took control of Napoli in 1442 and set up a direct link between the city and the Iberian Peninsula.

That wasn’t the end of the Spanish dance in Napoli. In 1502, Spanish General Gonzalo Fernández de Córdoba arrived and won the Battle of Garigliano in 1503 to officially commence the 2-century-long Spanish reign over the city.

Hence why there are the quartieri spagnoli or the Spanish Quarters in Napoli.

So where does zucchini fit into all of this? Now, the other side of history tells us that the Spanish brought escabeche to Napoli (sounds a little like scapece, doesn’t it?)

Where it gets interesting is that escabeche does not come from Latin, as many people would jump to assume. It actually comes from Arabic and Persian.

plot twist!!!!

800 years prior, the Moors occupied part of the Iberian peninsula, bringing with them sikbāj, a practice of marinating meats in vinegar and honey to create a sweet and sour stew. The word comes from sikbā, a Persian word for the same cooking method. Many believe this cooking method has roots in the first Persian Empire, bringing us back to 550-330 BC.

Now it’s up to you to decide whether zucchini alla scapece comes from Apicius or from the Middle East. In this Made in Italy world, people want to push the former. But the reality is - food isn’t linear, it’s layered. And that’s truly what makes Neapolitan food so great.

So, here is my slutti recipe for zucchini alla scapece, best served alone with a big fork, on a bruschetta/toasted bread for maximum carboliciousness…or….

as a sexy caprese alternative

If you wanna get wild, with a giant mozzarella di bufala for a sexy caprese alternative (an excellent choice for those who suffer from GERD like me, and can’t handle the tomatoes all the time).

Zucchini alla scapece is also an excellent beach snack, as the vinegar keeps it fresh for a while. And it’s gluten free, dairy free, nut free, and overall allergy-free FANTASTIC!!!!!

slutti zucchine alla scapece recipe

ingredients:

• 3 medium-sized zucchini (ideally romanesche)

• 3 tablespoons of white wine vinegar

• 2 cloves of garlic

• 5 mint leaves (if you don’t have mint, parsley, or basil can be substitutes)

• 4 good glugs of extra virgin olive oil or olive oil for frying (some say to use sunflower or peanut oil, but it’s not necessary…and too industrial to be contadino shit!)

method:

• Wash your zucchini and cut them to a 3-4 mm thickness*. I suggest using a mandolin.

• Prepare your marinade: mix white wine vinegar, chopped 5 mint leaves, and garlic cloves (halved)* in a bowl with a hefty pinch of salt. Let it sit.

• Salt your zucchini to remove excess water that will make frying more difficult.*

• Heat your oil in a wide frying pan (if you want to be precise, it should be around 340 F/170).

• Add in your zucchine carefully. Do not add all of them at once - add them in batches. Put enough zucchini in to cover the base of the pan.

• Fry until golden.

• Place cooked zucchine on a paper towel-lined plate to remove excess oil.

• If you want to be really contadino about it, let the zucchine sit outside in the sun for two hours. If you don’t have time, just let them cool off inside.

*notes:

• My mandolin has 3 settings (1-3) and I use the number 2 thinness.

• If you prefer more garlic flavor, you can also slice your garlic thinly.

• You don’t need to salt your zucchini, apart from popular opinion. But it does help!

Hope you saved those lonely zucchini babies in your fridge with this one.

Xx,

Victoria

contadino shit • noun

the true heart of the italian kitchen; recipes and dishes created by the farmers (contadini) and other working class folks that showcase Italy’s brilliant biodiversity, but more - how you can make a lot of something outta whole lotta nothing. That means saving money and making mother nature happy, zero waste baby!

Our girl eggplant parm has to watch out - there’s a new b!tch in town.

Well, she’s always in town. Just now, she’s finally getting a little more spotlight she deserves.

Zucchini parmigiana or parmigiana di zucchine is a staple summer dish, especially in the region of Campania. Countless times I’ve eaten this lusciousness at beach bars, where it’s a staple. It’s so simple to make, cleans out your fridge, and above all, will make you cry with the last bite.

Cuz who wants a good parm to ever end?

Something seriously delicious happens when you combine smoked scamorza and prosciutto cotto (ham). The third flavor sensation is a real high that keeps you always coming back for more.

The best part? It’s legal!

Ok, I lied, that isn’t the best part. The best part is:

no frying necessary!

You hear that? No sweating over a stove in the middle of summer. No dangerous hot oil. And no greasy ass kitchen to clean up.

No one talks about how annoying it is to really clean up after frying eggplant, or anything. The oil gets everywhere - on the floors, cabinets, tiles… Sometimes I feel like frying at home is made for those Food Network chefs who have people clean up after them…

All you need is to slice nice zucchini ribbons with a vegetable peeler. Then the hard work is done. No, no need to salt them; in my opinion, the excess moisture keeps things nice and juicy in the oven, as well as the fridge, because baby, you are in for the best leftovers of your life.

Duh, this contadino shit, honey. We are trying to fuel ourselves for days!

There’s no need to add any salt in this recipe! The ham and cheese do all the work, making it some extra real contadino shit because - back in the day - salt was being taxed every other day.

a zero tomato parmigiana

And no eggplanet either. Listen, I will never try to take away the title of queen from our regina parmigiana. However, the truth is I suffer greatly from GERD, and tomatoes really trigger it. Eggplant can too. It’s really sad.

But, I will not surrender! This gorgeous - and did I mention gluten-free - baked zucchini parmigiana gives me all the love and flavor I need.

It’s some serious slutti business.

There’s a bit of a misconception that poor man’s food or cleaning out your fridge can’t result in something fabulously indulgent, or how I like to say slutti. That is not true at all. You will be straight-up surprised at the incredibly abundant things these contadini came up with by getting creative with what you have sitting around.

That’s true contadino sh!t. Mastering the method and saying effff you to food waste. Honestly, cleaning out your fridge never looked so sexy.

zucchini parmigiana recipe

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Except this damn zucchini salad.

One day, while living in Florence 8 years ago, I decided to try a new appetizer. I’d see a shaved zucchine salad appetizer sometimes on menus, usually served with truffle oil.

I always avoided the dish because I think truffle oil is a scam that ruins everything.

I’ll rant about this later.

One day, I finally gave the dish a try, because I didn’t feel like eating another crostino with fegato or coccole with prosciutto toscano—two awesome things that become a little less tolerable in Florence’s summer heat with 90% humidity.

Sure, the truffle oil was unnecessary. Still, the combination of raw, crunchy zucchini ribbons with thinly shaved pecorino toscano took my taste buds on a joy ride I didn’t expect.

And, what were they screaming?

CONTADINO SHIT BABY!

Florentine cuisine is heavy, contadino shit, or shall I formally say cucina povera (peasant’s cuisine). One very fabulous thing to come out of it is their damn sheep’s milk cheese (pecorino toscano).

Then combine it with summer’s pop star zucchine? Sliced into pretty ribbons? With a squeeze of lemon? Crack of black pepper?

Baby, we are in business.

Who even needs any of that fake fancy truffle oil crap? I am sure the restaurant owners just added it to get tourists to give the appetizer a chance, when in reality this salad shines on its own with its shimmery, contadino simplicity.

That is why I love this salad: its ingredients are so wildly simple. It also shows you how zucchini - preferably the seasonal ones full of flavor - taste fabulous even raw.

That means no oven on in this forno-like weather!

During a little trip to Umbria, I felt inspired to make this salad. Umbria is also home to stellar pecorino cheese. It is also a main supplier of sheep milk to Tuscany, for making - you guessed it - pecorino toscano DOP cheese.

I know, it’s confusing. What Italy doesn’t want to tell you is that geographical indications (DOP, IGP, etc) are often more marketing than maintaining actual ‘territorial’ integrity. Sure, they hold up quality, but at the end of the day - it’s all business, babe.

Not to say Umbria produces lesser quality milk or cheese. Honestly, it’s all just as great, and who knows, maybe even better. Umbria is much less touristic than Tuscany, hiding in its shadow with its equally gorgeous landscape, churches, and food culture.

I hope it stays that way for a little while.

One day, we took a ride to Perugia’s wonderful little Coldiretti Campagna Amica farmer’s market. It’s open weekly from Monday to Saturday. The best part? It’s indoors with central air. So you can shop with a breeze.

We got a lot of stuff, including many pretty zucchine romanesche, those gorgeous little summer zucchine from Lazio with distinct green-white ridges and luminous flowers.

Then, we got ourselves a sexy hunk of pecorino umbro, aged around 3-4 months. Creamy with a sweet nutty finish. Don’t forget that iconic sheep’s milk barnyard kick.

Let me tell you - I made the sexiest little salad with this, adding in some fresh basil from the garden that just hypes up zucchine’s flavor. I should mention I did another secret kitchen weapon…

Umbrian extra virgin olive oil

Do not sleep on Umbrian olive oil. It’s zesty and peppery, a condiment of its own. Especially those made mostly with moraiolo, Umbria’s spicy king olive cultivar. It has this distinct Mediterranean earthiness with a banging antioxidant-powered bitter finish.

Yes, this shit makes you hot, inside and out.

Of course, you must always make sure it’s cold pressed, from the most recent harvest and (if you can) a small producer! The same goes even if it isn’t from Umbria.

IMPORTANT ZUCCHINI NOTE

When eating zucchine flowers, you always MUST remove the pistil inside the zucchini flower before cooking or eating. It’s that little funky-looking thing inside that sort of looks like a mushroom.

It’s technically the female zucchini flower’s reproductive organs. But let’s not think about plant sex and all that…

It’s edible but very bitter. So leaving it will ruin your zucchine experience.

Now, let’s move on to the recipe!

Italian summer zucchine salad with shaved pecorino cheese recipe

ingredients:

• 4 small to medium-sized zucchine (romanesco variety if possible, and/or the freshest you can get.)

• 4 glugs of good extra virgin olive oil

• 4 basil leaves

• Few good cracks of black pepper (to taste)

• salt (to taste)

• Half of a medium to large-sized lemon (or apple cider vinegar if you don’t have lemon)

• 100 grams/ quarter pound-ish of pecorino toscano or umbro cheese (3 months aged ideal)

method:

• With a vegetable peeler (or if you’re fancy, a spiralizer), shave your zucchine into thin, pretty ribbons

• If using zucchini flowers, remove the pistil, and tear the remaining flowers.

• Add in torn flowers along with the basil, chopped or hand torn (up to you!)

• Squeeze the lemon juice in and toss everything together

• Add salt and pepper to taste

• With a cheese slicer, peel nice, long shavings of pecorino on top of your salad, covering it abundantly until your heart’s content.

• Garnish with a little basil bud, and you are set!

Best paired with a hunk of good bread and a glass of zesty trebbiano spoletino.

Buon appettito, babes!

Xx,

Victoria

IT’S TOO DAMN HOT TO COOK or EAT CARBONARA IN THE SUMMER

Heavy egg, sweaty guanciale, and cheese pasta isn’t going to make 100 degrees feel any less like 100 degrees. But swapping guanciale for some seasonal zucchini and their oh so pretty flowers will not only make carbonara more weather-appropriate but also more earth-lovingly delicious.

I said what I said.

Not too long ago, I sent out my first slutti round table, an opportunity for you to voice your thoughts on anything and everything Italian food, along with sharing your feedback on this newsletter.

Thank you for all your responses. Each lit a light of creativity in me, and I am so excited to respond to your thoughts in funky, ridiculous newsletters that I hope you find useful. Or at least just comical!

One of you brilliant people mentioned zucchini carbonara. And god bless you for it.

Don’t be shy to comment who you are, because apparently my survey was anonymous by Substack’s decision…

You know me - I’m all for the contadino shit, and that’s exactly what zucchini carbonara is: a new-age version of it. Guanciale? Expensive, historically. Today it’s on the cheaper side. But still, if you want a) a good quality guanciale and/or b) to use the amount that your favorite Roman restaurant does…it’s gonna cost you, especially if you don’t live in Rome or Italy.

Remember, my fellow Americans, those tariffs are coming babes!

The carbonara we know today is not exactly affordable, nor historically Italian. In fact, carbonara has a bit of an American history, and the amount of guanciale people be putting in carbonara (and amatriciana) these days is leaning more American abundance than classic Italian simplicity.

*mic drop*

Now, the same goes for the amount of pecorino romano cheese in the recipe. BUT, pecorino romano is a more affordable cheese. It also symbolizes the history of Rome and its shepherds who shaped its food culture in their need to survive, even if most pecorino romano is made in Sardinia, anyway.

Those Sardinian sheep must be up to some witchy sh*t because their milk makes magic…

I started making zucchine carbonara back when I lived in Florence for a year during college. Yes, I was that American student. But not like that American student: I was a bore and chose to work in community gardens and eat at my aunt’s house rather than party.

Sometimes I wonder if I should have embraced my American side back then… I guess my liver thanks me for taking a different path.

I remember falling across a post by Rachel Roddy on Instagram, whom I really admired as I tested new recipes in my tiny Florentine kitchen. My dream was to join her cooking class in Rome and share thoughts, but gosh, I was such a shy thing those days (can you imagine?)

Rachel shared her zucchine carbonara recipe for The Guardian, and I was so impressed. Not long after, a friend had me over for lunch during a hot day in Rome. And guess what I found on my plate? Zucchine carbonara.

While I adore Rachel’s recipe, I prefer my zucchine carbonara more on the contadino side, with more pecorino romano, less egg, and lots of black pepper. It’s the same for carbonara in general. I like a good and thick pecorino-egg cream, not a silky sauce.

To each is one’s own!

The best part about this dish, though…

…is that it’s great for cleaning out your kitchen cabinet/ fridge: you can add in onions, scallions, basil, garlic, or any green things really to it. It’s real contadino sh*t in that way. Or, if you want to play the purist, stick to zucchine and see these summer babies shine as guanciale’s understudy.

No matter what side of the coin you are on, my recipe below can be adapted as necessary.

***In imperial metrics, because I am American. In Italy, I eyeball things, aka nonna measure, with my gut. :)***

zucchine carbonara recipe

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I can imagine myself as a Roman empress now, undercover in the countryside as a simple farmer, shucking fava beans and sipping homemade wine. Maybe playing the harp or having an affair with the sexy town blacksmith.

I say empress because who wouldn’t want to have a palace in Rome? And dress in a gorgeous silk stola decorated in jewels and gold? A dream, until you smell what a city without a modern-day public sanitation system is like. Precisely why you need a palace with cute Corinthian columns, preferably on top of Rome’s many hills.

I digress.

When primavera rolls around in Rome, we don’t want any greasy suppli or a carbonara coma - we want all things fresh and green that comes with Spring.

And that means fava beans.

No, not those sad, limp, frozen fava beans that’ve been in your mom’s freezer since you were five.

We are talking fresh and big green beans filled with nature’s more fertile spring fruit.

in Italian, fava bean is simply fava (singular) or fave (plural)

Fava beans are my favorite double entendre. Because it’s one of the randomest things you’d think would also mean male genitalia in Italian.

The writers of Silence of the Lambs totally didn’t consider that one, did they?

Is it because of fava’s funny, long shape? Or the male organ-like shape of its beans?

Or maybe it’s because it was once an ancient symbol of fertility? What is it with these Ancient Romans and only eating vegetables that they thought were baby-making aphrodisiacs?

I can see the springtime ancient Rome food ads now. Time to get shucked!

Ancient Romans also apparently held parties where they would throw fava beans and drunkenly bang pots and pans to fend off evil spirits every May during the festival of Lemuria.*

Gosh, ancient Rome sounds like such a time.

Dirty vegetables aside, fava beans are god’s gift to Spring in Rome. And when you know just how to eat these earthy, nutty, vegan-friendly, gluten-free (and the food marketing list goes on) babies, you will be in heaven on earth.

two slutti ways to eat fava beans

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Welcome to contadino shit! a newsletter series that will save you money and make mother earth happy by exploring Italian veggies and learning simple recipes straight from the contadini - Italian farmers who hold the real secrets of Italian cuisine (aka all the sexy veggies and plants that make the Italian peninsula the glorious place that it is!)

How is the world not obsessed with agretti? Of course, I wouldn’t want that because then we’d have a bunch of sad, conventional agretti on shelves, begging for a home.

Well, that would never be the case because agretti is just too sexy for that.

Agretti - the seaweed without the sea taste

The land greens that, if I were to assume, were once a prehistoric underwater treat of some bizarre-looking dinosaur. Thank god we don’t have to fight those creatures to have these greens. I’d lose a limb for agretti.

In fact agretti is often confused with the Japanese okahijiki, known as land seaweed. Not the same plant, but you get the picture.

Agretti has about a million names. But the best one might be barba di frate - friar or monks’ beard (with the worst name being saltwort. Ew.)

These straggly, funny-looking greens look like they were modeled after some hobbit guarding a creek in Monty Python. Also, there’s no doubt these greens are blessed. Whatever monk gave them their name was definitely sipping some good blood of Christ.

Like all good things, agretti was once forgotten

It’s crazy that this sexy vitamin-rich veggie was once BURNED to become soda ash, aka sodium carbonate. No, not baking soda (sodium bicarbonate) - soda ash is a compound that was in high demand back in the 18th century to make soap or glass. There are now more efficient ways to produce soda ash instead of burning delicious veggies. Sadly though, the switch to more industrial production methods left agretti in the dark, appreciated only by farmers and peasants in the Italian regions of Lazio and Tuscany.

And that is why agretti is 100% contadino sh*t. They kept this green alive, reaping the vitamin B, vitamin A, fiber, and all the goodness to keep their families living long and strong.

Agretti is one of the first signs that Spring has arrived, with bunches of the beard-looking greens are falling off market shelves in Rome and Florence. You better catch them - because today agretti goes fast, and it ain’t here for long. Plus you can really only find it in Tuscany and Lazio, though some farms do produce it and ship it elsewhere.

In the States, some California farmers produce it and Campo Rosso Farms sells it at Union Square Market in NY. Will report back to confirm availabilty.

people like it raw

But I don’t, really. Blame my IBS, but I fully believe these greens are more belly-friendly and taste best lightly boiled or sautéed. That’s how the contadini would do it. Who could risk dying from some random bacteria on a leaf? There was no pepcid or amoxiccilin at the time. That’s why the raw diet is bullshit, especially for the fact that it gives you raging gas.

Pardon my honesty. Let’s move on to the agretti recipes!

Agretti recipes: two ways

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