A Tribute to Via Carota's Tortelli
My love for Via Carota's tortelli is as frantic as the thank-yous in Jen Coolidge's Emmy speech. A proper tribute was necessary.
In my twenties, it was so easy to flit from one fixation to another.
One day, I rode out a surfing phase, Blue Crush buzzing in my soul and nipples burning from board chafe. The next, I sported mopey bi vibes and a bright red windbreaker, caught in a whirlwind James Dean obsession.
As I am now fully gay and can’t spend a day at the beach without getting antsy, neither obviously stuck.
The stuff of my thirties, though, feels a little more rooted. A couple things have remained favorites: my affinity for the movie Call Me By Your Name and my allegiance to Via Carota, an Italian restaurant in New York’s West Village.
Not even Armie Hammer’s cannibalistic cravings or the new spots sprouting on Eater NY’s Heatmap have swayed me. To the love of Elio and Oliver, I remain steadfast. To the culinary lovechild of Jody Williams and Rita Sodi, I remain true.
Within these favorites are deeper thrills too. At Via Carota, ordering the tortelli is akin to toggling CMBYN’s video playback straight to Elio and Oliver’s first kiss.
When I turned 38 last month, dinner at Via Carota was no question. And though it was just me and my best gal pal Sabrina sharing a meal, one order of tortelli was barely enough. Before I could say “I love this, Oliver,” my companion, a virgin to Via’s tortelli, breathlessly gulped down most of it.
I don’t blame her. This is pasta indulgence that takes you by surprise. The kind of food porn antics Instagram’s algorithm loves, such as a downpour of shaved truffle or gush of egg yolk wrapped in ravioli? You can feel Via Carota side-eye that sort of thing.
Even the restaurant’s menu downplays the splendor of its own pasta. All that’s used to describe Via Carota’s tortelli is its simple filling: “smoked ricotta.” And while its butter sauce is memorable—the kind of detail you appreciate like the string of saliva hanging between Elio and Oliver’s lips, post-kiss—it is hardly the main event.
Most of my shock and awe stems from the egg dough itself. How each crest-shaped parcel becomes so delicate that the mere warmth of my mouth causes it to melt upon contact. Then, the nuttiness of the butter; that lomi-lomi massage stroke of sweet and subtly smoky ricotta across your tongue—each bite seems biochemically engineered to lead your soul up a stepstool towards nirvana. Your jaw slackens, your every motor function shuts down, you begin to wonder why something like an “opium bed” exists when a “tortelli chaise longue” feels very necessary at that moment.
Almost a month has passed and I’ve thought about that bowl of pasta so much, I had to do something about it. The next best thing to buying a MNL-JFK ticket, braving the restaurant waitlist, and paying 25 bucks for a serving was to try making the tortelli myself.
I know, I know. I’m well aware you can’t play God. But you know what? You can paint a pretty exquisite picture of his likeness, Sistine-style. And I’m certain this is a recipe I’ll cherish beyond my 30s—and possibly, as an epitaph on my grave.
TORTELLI WITH SMOKED RICOTTA
The egg dough recipe used here is my go-to for many of the recipes I’ve posted on social media—a mix involving much more yolk than whole egg. Still, there are two other factors that produce the kind of tortelli comparable to a tender smooch from Timothée.
One, that all edges of your filled pasta are pressed as thinly and uniformly as possible. This ensures more even cooking. Next, that your pasta cooks long enough to yield a dumpling with more give. It’s the difference between a goose down pillow and a firm Tempur. The point here isn’t the flavorful chew of an al dente noodle but for a bite from each medallion to burst pure bliss into your mouth.
INGREDIENTS
Serves 2-3 (or 1 on a particularly chaotic day in this time of retrograde)
For the Smoked Ricotta
150g Wood Chips of your choice
2 cups Ricotta
1/2 Cup Grated Parmesan
1/2 Tsp Grated Lemon Zest
Pinch of Freshly Grated Nutmeg
Salt & Pepper to Taste
*A note on Ricotta: fresh is best and can easily be made as I demonstrate here, but store-bought is contessa-approved too!
But, full disclosure! Because I was having a bad morning documenting this post, I didn’t want to be hassled to toss it into a food processor for a blitz with other add-ons. So I used a 250g tub of a spreadable Lemnos variant because instead. Still, if you’d rather buy than make, I’d rather you get the best possible texture with a tub of Galbani Ricotta. (Usually, it’s available at Santis.)
For the Rich Egg Dough
151g 00 Flour
54g Egg Yolk
47g Whole Egg
For the Sage Brown Butter
6 Tbsp Unsalted Butter
4-6 Fresh Sage Leaves
Freshly Cracked Black Pepper, to taste
Sea Salt, to taste
Parmesan for grating, to taste
Cold-Smoked Ricotta on the Stove
Prep Note: The most convenient setup would be a stockpot with a built-in colander as its top layer. But you can simply use a large pot with a lid so long as you can fit a metal rack inside it.
Cover the bottom of your pot with two sheets of aluminum foil large enough to come up the sides of the vessel. Use another sheet of foil to wrap around the bottom of your pot lid.
Spread your wood chips across the bottom of your foil-lined pot in a single layer. I used a combination of acacia and santol chips to infuse the cheese with the fragrance of a lola lounging in her ancestral home. But feel free to opt for more traditional hardwood such as hickory, cherry, etc. Most are available on Shopee or Lazada.
Prepare your ricotta by spreading it across a heat-safe container. I used a small rectangular Pyrex. Set this aside.
Now cover your pot and place it on medium heat. Once your chips combust and give off smoke (you’ll hear a crackle or two within 15 minutes), you can place your container of ricotta on the metal rack you’ve inserted above your wood chips.
Place the lid back on and let this smoke circulate for a minute, then shut off the heat and leave your pot covered and undisturbed for at least an hour.
Afterwards, your ricotta should be lightly singed and taste subtly smoky. Once cool, you can fold the rest of your ingredients into the cheese. For a smoother texture, you can toss the cheese into a food processor along with the rest of your add-ons but don’t run it too long or you can risk breakage.
Ready your ricotta for filling by spooning it into a pastry bag snipped at the bottom to create a half-inch hole. Set aside in the fridge until ready to fill.
Your Dough
Make your dough as demonstrated here. If using a pasta machine, roll out to setting 6. Otherwise, strive to get it thin enough with a rolling pin until your hand becomes visible through the pasta sheet.
Another Take on Tortelli
Tortelli mutates as rampantly as Tilda Swinton does. No matter which form she takes, however, she exudes the same otherworldly fabulousness.
So think of this shape as you would ravioli—a catch-all for filled pasta, albeit one usually distinguished by its tendency to tent.
If it wasn’t already clear in my too-long intro, the tortelli I’m infatuated with is Via Carota’s. Each serving is comprised by about half a dozen dumplings—possibly even a a couple more? Like a baggy of coke, working through a bowl of tortelli makes you feel like there’s never enough! Each tortelli at Via Carota is about the size and shape of the Heart of the Ocean diamond in Titanic, and is just as precious; a mouthful you’ll want to relish in two bites.
I’ve tweaked mine to serve as a prayer to the most sacred of pastas in my memory. Mafalda’s Tortelli resembles elongated and ruffled cappelletti. Essentially, papal hats.
Shaping Tortelli
Once your egg dough has been rolled into sheets, cut each sheet into 2.5-inch squares, leaning slightly larger if precision is an issue. I used a fluted pastry cutter to get a soft, serrated edge.
Prep Note: To avoid drying out the squares too much, work with one row of squares at a time. Cover the ones you aren’t about to fill with a dish towel.
Fill each square by piping a Hershey’s Kiss-sized dollop onto the center.
Work quickly to shape. Orient each square like a diamond and fold the bottom corner to the top corner, joining the bottom end just below the top to create the thinnest border. Pinch the edges of this triangle to properly seal it and let out any air.
Lightly press the bulging center of your triangle to create a dimple. Then, join the bottom corners of this parcel together, crossing one end over the other in self-embrace. Pinch this link evenly to seal.
Place your tortelli on a sheet pan and dust with semolina to prevent sticking.
Storage
Let your finished pasta dry slightly by placing your sheet pan uncovered in the fridge (about 45 minutes to an hour before) before cooking. If you plan to serve your pasta hours later, you may cover your sheet pan loosely with plastic wrap and keep it in the fridge for up to 8 hours.
Or ready your finished pasta for another day by blanching and then freezing them. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil and cook your tortelli just until they begin to float. Then, immediately fish them out of the water and let the pieces dry on a dish towel for 40 minutes, turning them every five minutes to dry each nook and cranny evenly. A fan directed at your pasta cuts this drying time in half.
Cooking
For 1 Serving
Once your pasta has been filled and dried, bring a pot of salted water to a rolling boil.
Set aside 6 to 8 parcels and gently drop them into the water, lowering the heat slightly to a steady boil.
Cook your tortelli for three to five minutes depending on your preference of chewiness. For me, a little over four minutes is just enough to make even the thicker edges delicate.
As soon as you start cooking your pasta, swirl about 2 tablespoons of butter in a small saucepan and heat until it begins to turn golden brown—about three minutes. Add a couple of sage leaves, tipping the pan and spooning the butter over them to infuse their flavor. Immediately shut off the heat and set aside. This is your finishing sauce.
When you’re midway through cooking your pasta, prepare a separate saucepan (large enough to toss your cooked pasta later on). Place this saucepan over low heat. Pour about 1/8 cup or half a ladleful of pasta water into the saucepan and another two tablespoons of butter. Swirl the pan, mixing water and butter to create a cohesive sauce.
Just when your tortelli has finished cooking, remove from the pot with a spider or slotted spoon and toss them into your large saucepan. Coat all pieces in the sauce, adding a dribble of water if too thick, or swirling longer over the heat if too thin.
Plating
Once your pasta is slicked in butter sauce, slide it onto your serving bowl and finish with a drizzle of sage brown butter. Finally, shower it with grated parmesan, a scratch of whole nutmeg, and a crack of pepper.
Proceed to transcend retrograde with each bite.