Volume CCXXXII, Number
26 October, 2002
Page 4
Stylized Life Page
Say cheerio to our posh new
food writer, Sybella Superior
The Spy, having decided that Bella Whiner's recipes did not sufficiently buff the veneer of effortless sophistication that the Stylized Life Page aspires to has procured the services of the world-famous (in Kensington) food writer, whose every gravy boat drips good taste, England's own Sybella Superior.
I often ask myself: "Sybella, you have everything; a house in Belgravia, a cottage with 78 guest bedrooms (2 with central heating), a staff of flunkies, a rich, aristocratic husband confined to his room since his tragic stroke in 1978, and two or three children off at school somewhere. What more could you want?"
And then it occurs to me: what I want is a great big bowl of spaghetti to serve my fashionable and photogenic friends at a dinner paid for by the Spy (including the drinks tab) [No one told me about this – Pub.]. And the thought was father to the deed, as Dante once said, and Dante was an Italian who knew his spaghetti!
So I instructed my scullery maid to purchase only the freshest, finest ingredients for my Spaghetti alla Reynaldo. At this point, I am sure that an attentive reader like yourself will ask, "Sybella, who is Reynaldo?" And so I shall tell you. It was just a few years ago [Our records say 25 – Fact Checking Dep't] when I was just a young sprite hitchhiking up and down Italy on holiday from Oxford. I had spent the summer taking in all the glories of bellisima Italia – the wine, the sun, the food, the art (as I had taken an A-level in fine arts), and of course the men.
Ah, those Italian men! Who could forget Guido in Venezia and Giovanni in Verona, or was it Giovanni in Venezia and Guido in Verona? No it was Guido in Napoli and Alberto in Roma! Bright college days! And then of course it was Reynaldo in the train station in Maestre (or perhaps Mantua) who taught me so many things, including the glories of dining at the railroad tavola caldas that dot the countryside. Many times there was a charming old hotel conveniently located above the restaurant. At any rate, Reynaldo would always say, "Eat the spaghetti. It's only 700 lira."
Ever since then, I've tried to recreate the special taste of that spaghetti, not to mention Reynaldo. Today I can share it with you – the pasta, not the boyfriend. To re-create the intense flavors and aromas of an Italian steam table I cook the pasta for thirty minutes and leave it in the pan with just a pat of oleomargarine. Then I stir in my special sauce, but you can use Ragu, or for that matter, Tesco's Pride. Cook the sauce for three hours over high heat, and then pour over the spaghetti.
At this point I like to take one of those very clever silvery green parmesan cheese pourers your Mr. Kraft sells and sprinkle the cheese over the spaghetti. I let it stand for another three hours. This gives me plenty of time to chat up my fascinating luncheon guests and crack open a bottle of a rough yet intense red (like Reynaldo) from the Abruzzi. Later I serve the spaghetti with a cake slicer and drink in the comments from the astonished diners.
For a truly over-the-top meal that turns spaghetti into a once-in-a-lifetime treat (like Reynaldo, well maybe not quite once), I serve canned baked beans on the side to add a piquant English note to the arpeggio of Italian flavors. Did I mention I play the pianoforte as well?
Sybella greets her guests in front of her Berks cottage, which dates to
the reign of Ethelred the Drunken Bulvon
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HAVE YOU CHECKED YOUR EDITORIAL PAGE LATELY? |
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Where Are Today's Jerks?
– Headline in The Wall Street Journal, September 24, 2002 at B8 |