noodle shapes

what is your favourite pasta noodle shape?

seemingly simple, yet the answer may give way to insights that go beyond what one wants alongside their puttanesca.

i must preface by saying that this question is solely about the noodles, and not about the sauce. i am well aware of the pasta politics surrounding which shapes are allowed with which sauces, but for the sake of time, let’s save the follow-up questions for a later date.

let’s start with bucatini — how i tend to answer the question at hand.

with more confidence than angel hair, yet not as boastful as a pappardelle, i would argue that bucatini is the Audrey Hepburn of noodle shapes— elegant not by choice, but by condition.

not only that, but like all good things in life, bucatini has a surprise up its sleeve: a hollow centre running throughout its length — unsurprisingly modest, but still a surprise nonetheless.

i rest my case.

i’ve had (maybe a little too much) fun pondering the archetypes associated with various noodle shapes. to the point where i’ve conjured up a handful of backstories that spawn from my own experiences with the shapes and the people behind them. i also possess a tendency to derive pleasure from reading into mundane things a little too deeply, so so i encourage you to read on with a heavy hand of (flakey) salt.

penne: like a rigatoni but with training wheels. i’d like to treat this person to dinner with the hopes of broadening their horizons of what pasta can be.

linguine: this is the equivalent to telling me that your favourite colour is blue (which it most likely is).

fusilli: when in los angeles, this person is calling an uber straight to fairfax — probably between beverly boulevard and the supreme store to be more specific. there’s this low-key italian spot a friend told me about, and apparently, it scratches that itch pretty well.

rigatoni: chances are, this person has, or would like a blue checkmark in their instagram bio (can you tell i’ve lived in la?)

angel hair: my eyebrows are raised.

orecchiette: with a shape as suggestive as this one, your evening is off to a great start.

;)

anything that sounds a little too italian: my response goes one of two ways: either the person in question is italian (or has spent a significant amount of time in italy). or they are trying a little too hard to be from everyone’s favourite boot-shaped nation. either way, i’m just happy to add a new noodle shape to my rolodex.

i always get a kick out of asking preferential questions. it’s an easy route to get to know someone because our likes and dislikes tend to dictate the course of the way we live our lives on a day-to-day basis. when flexed, this muscle instates our autonomy in whatever dimension the situation may present itself in.

some doze off on their backs while others choose to belly-flop their way into their first REM cycle.

some floss their teeth before they brush their teeth, while others opt to do so the other way around.*

some like their drinks to come crowned with a single ice cube, while others prefer pebbles (more on this later).

thank goodness we don’t all share the same preferences. if that were the case, life would be a little too bland for my taste.

like my colleagues lunch today

there is nothing wrong with agreeing with someone. there are many situations in which such a conclusion is beneficial, but sometimes i long for a disagreement because it opens the door to a conversation that is frankly, a bit more fun.

unfolding the layers behind the preference at hand can be like stepping into the drivers seat of someone else’s car — giving you a glimpse at what life may look like through someone else’s eyes. although we may never get the full story, a change of scenery may encourage us to make some edits on our own.

with all that being said, i do wish we can all agree on one thing: whether you prefer radiatori, ravioli, or rigatoni — it’s gotta be al dente.

*i’ve engaged in some discourse on this topic with a handful of industry experts, and the verdict remains clear: floss before brushing. you’re welcome :)