Pasta-ology

REVIEW: The Geometry of Pasta

by Drew Lazor

My lustiest envy is reserved for the organized. Clutter-free, devoid of dust and dog hair, with brightly labeled hooks and shelves and knobs and jars containing every molecule of cutesy bric-a-brac that makes up their lives. The people who have boxes containing boxes full of boxes full of chronologically annotated doodads. They wake up at 90-degree angles. Their pornography is Real Simple. They know where their keys are at all times. They know where your keys are, too.

If there is an official cookbook for this exclusive club I so long to be a part of (where the hell are my keys?), it is surely The Geometry of Pasta, set for a Sept. 15 release by Philly's Quirk Books ($24.95). A team effort from Brits Caz Hildebrand (a graphic designer) and Jacob Kenedy (chef at Bocca di Lupo in London's West End), the book burrows deep into Italy's most-exported tradition, providing a literal A-to-Z guide to every pasta shape imaginable. But instead of sunlit photos of flour-dusted hands working ribbons of tagliatelle in some stone-walled villa, the recipes are accompanied by Hildebrand's sexily symmetrical offerings, black-and-white diagrams with more clean lines than Kirk Cameron's wedding vows. It's so sleek that a glance at the tomato sauce section will make you want to clean out your garage. Plenty of people like to say that food is art, but The Geometry of Pasta provides empirical proof.

Of course, the book would be useless if it were all Op Art flash and no practical dash. That's why it's so wonderful that Kenedy's writing is as conversational as it is didactic — he's got a charming knack for weaving bits of history and cheffish tips into his recipes, which range from homey specialties like potato gnocchi ("These little dumplings are many people's favourite") to the elaborate preparation of pansotti ("big bellies"), a triangular Ligurian specialty that calls for fresh-foraged chicory, rampions and dandelion. "The startling diversity we wonder at in the natural world is mirrored in microcosm in pasta," writes Kenedy, an opinion bolstered by Hildebrand's full-page illustrations, which could be mistaken for microscope fodder if they didn't so strongly resemble eye charts personalized for Mario Batali.

Cookbook traditionalists accustomed to full-color spreads of chefs elbow-deep in dough might not like the categorical approach of The Geometry of Pasta, as it casts a nearly scientific eye on a food synonymous with familial contentment and stuffed-silly belt-loosening. But Kenedy and Hildebrand deserve praise for systematically stripping the marinara-splattered Sunday Gravy tradition down to reveal its beautiful and meticulous roots.

(drew.lazor@citypaper.net)