Maverick Philosopher

1. Using too small of a pot. A capacious pot is essential for the proper cooking of pasta. For most purposes I use an 8 quart pot. When I make my famous lasagne, however, out comes the monster 16 quart job.

2. Insufficient water. Be sure the pot is filled three-quarters full. With a big pot, there is little chance of a boil-over. But in case of the latter, a little olive oil added to the water will quell any uprising.

3. Adding the pasta before the water is boiling. Wifey once broke this rule. I instructed her to add the pasta when the water boiled. She claims she did, and that led to a discussion of the meaning of ‘boiling.’ I hereby lay it down that water is not boiling unless it is ROILING and JUMPING. To put it a bit more scientifically, pure water at sea-level is not boiling until it is at 212 degrees Fahrenheit. Since our tap water is pretty good, I use it, not wanting to burden my reverse osmosis purification system.

4. Breaking the pasta before putting it in the pot. This criminal act is particularly repellent to the true connoiseur, and a sure sign of a pasta greenhorn. It defeats the whole purpose of the eating of (long) pasta, a tactile experience that requires the twirling of the strands around the fork, and, therefore, unbroken strands. Deadly sin #4 usually follows upon sin # 1, as drinking upon gambling.

5. Overcooking the pasta. Pasta must never be overcooked. It is to be prepared al dente. That’s Italian for to the tooth, meaning that the pasta should put up a bit of resistance to the tooth that bites into it. The pleasure of pasta consumption is largely tactile: the stuff by its lonesome does not have much taste.

6. Failing to properly drain the pasta before the addition of sauce. The result of this is a disgusting dilution of the sauce. Proper drainage requires the proper tool, the collander. Invest in a good one made of stainless steel. Plastic is for wimps. And if you try to drain pasta using the pot top, then you mark yourself as a bonehead of the first magnitude and may scald yourself in the process.

7. Chopping pasta on the plate. When I see people do this, I am tempted to make like al-Zarqawi and engage in an Islamo-fascist act. Let’s say you are eating capellini, ‘angel hair.’ (This is the quickest cooking of the long pastas.) There it is on the large white plate, richly sauced, anointed with a bit of extra virgin olive oil -- why buy any other kind? -- besprinkled with fresh hand-grated Romano, (not something out of a cardboard cylinder), artistically set off with a small amount of finely chopped parsley, and awaiting your attention. It is a thing of beauty. So what does a bonehad do? He starts chopping it up.

Learn how to do it right. Take some strands in the fork tines, twirl, and you should end up with a ball of pasta at the end of your fork. Practice makes perfect. Now enjoy the tactile delight along with a glass of Dago red.

You need at least one avocado, and it must be ripe. To ascertain ripeness, grip the avocado between thumb and forefinger and squeeze. If it gives, it's ripe. If it's hard, leave it on the countertop to ripen. Buy only very dark green, almost black, avocados. The brand available to me are called 'Hass.' They tend to be relatively small. There are larger, light green avocados -- shun them.

Now carefully slice the avocado lengthwise with a sharp knife all the way around the pit, which lies at the center. The avocado should now fall into two hemispheres -- or to be exact, two hemispheroids. One of them will have the pit in it. To remove the pit with panache and elegance, jab the sharp end of the knife into the pit, wiggle the knife, and the pit will pop out. To disengage the pit from the knife Maverick-style, whack the dull edge of the knife against the rim of your kitchen trash barrel. It will fly into the trash and you will not have gotten your fingers dirty.

Scoop out the meat of the avocado from the hemipsheroids using a tablespoon and deposit into a shallow bowl, taking care not to get any of the skin of the avocado into the bowl. Now add a righteous gob of good mayonnaise to the contents of the bowl. A good mayonnaise is Best Foods; East of the Rockies this flies under the flag of Hellman's. Don't use any such crap as pseudo-mayo sandwich spread. How much mayo to add? How much arterio-clogging action do you want? Seriously, add a heaping tablespoon, or a bit more.

Now grab a couple of cloves of garlic, peel them, load them one at a time into your garlic press, and squeeze the rascals into the bowl contents. Add Tabasco, Arizona Gunslinger, or any hot sauce of your choice. Tabasco's latest offering, Tabasco Chipotle, is interesting, but at the end of the day, nothing beats Tabasco original.

The final step is a simple mashing operation using a fork. Mash -- or if you are a Leftist, smash -- the bowl contents until they are smooth. Other stuff can be added, but this is Basic Guacamole.

Eat as a dip with tortilla (tor-TEE-ya) chips. Also excellent added to tacos in lieu of salsa, or with salsa. Also good as a sandwich spread. Or try it as an omelet topping. The possibilities are numerous, e.g., Monterey Jack scrambled egg tacos with guacamole, etc.

I begin by throwing a couple or three cloves of fresh garlic into the bottom of my blender. One can also add a small piece of a lemon, skin and all, and/or a bit of a jalapeno or habanero pepper. Habanero is the hotter of the two, and jalapeno (Ha-la-PAIN-yo) is seriously hot. Now dump in a 16 oz. can of garbanzo beans. But first drain off some of the liquid: what you are making is a dip, not a soup. Don't ask me how much to drain off; here as elsewhere the true culinary master nevers measures, he eyeballs, using to good effect his experientially-honed common sense.

Now add a righteous gob of sesame tahini. Again, don't ask me how much, but two heaping tablespoonfuls is in the ballpark. On top of this about a half lemon's worth of lemon juice, no more. Now put the top on the blender and fire it up at a high setting. I like my hummus smooth as a baby's ass and about the same color and consistency of what comes out of one. It may be necessary to add water, a little at a time, to achieve a thorough blend.

Pour/scoop the hummus out into a shallow bowl. Make a circular depression in the hummus and fill it with extra virgin olive oil. Now what you have is a lake of greenish olive oil atop the 'moraine' of hummus. To set it off aesthetically, sprinkle some cayenne pepper over the top. Chili powder or any red pepper will also do. A bit of finely chopped cilantro added around the edges will also contribute to the aesthetic appeal.

Hummus goes well with hot pita bread. One way to quickly heat the bread is by 'nuking' (i.e., microwaving) it, but I prefer to cut the pita bread in half and toast it. Add a salad and you have a meal. Left-over hummus can be made into sandwiches the next day.