How to Get Pasta Right

A few years ago I was feeling peckish at Catania airport. I wandered over to the main café and spotted — beyond the stacks of panini stuffed with wilting prosciutto — a sign promising pasta. I assumed they’d be doling it out ready-made from a hulking pot, school-canteen style. But no: they were carefully blanching each portion of rigatoni, then finishing it in the sauce (a humble pomodoro). Who cares about foot-tapping customers on the verge of missing their flights? There were more noble priorities.