About Gizi

My friend Walter and his sister Margaret are first generation Americans. Their parents moved to New York from Budapest on April 19, 1939. - with a short foray in London, where they were married, in between. They were absolutely gorgeous. Walter, Sr., was 6 feet 3 inches tall and better looking than Errol Flynn. Giselle, nicknamed Gizi, was 5 foot 2, blond and beautiful - as pretty as any World War II pinup. She had been educated in a Swiss boarding school and was more exotic-looking than the suburban Westchester housewives who surrounded her. She kept a Victory Garden, worked outside the home, designed and crafted exquisite needlepoint,

Needlepoint Designed and Executed by Gizi Needlepoint Detail

and founded Modern Knitting magazine.

Margaret on the Cover of Modern Knitting Magazine wearing a Gizi Design Photo 

She was also a fantastic cook.

I didn’t meet Gizi until she was in her eighties, but I was lucky enough to spend two weekends upstate with her, learning how to cook some of her family’s favorite dishes. Together we made her chicken paprikas—which has more tomatoes than any recipe I’ve seen elsewhere—her goulash, a dish made with yellow summer squash and sour cream, and what she called nockerli, and what most everyone else calls spaetzle.

Fresh Pasta

Serves 4

I first made fresh pasta with Beverly Dana, at her house in Atlanta. I still use a Cuisinart to make the dough, only now I roll it out with the KitchenAid roller attachment rather than a manual machine like the one Beverly used. I never wash the cylinders with water—just brush them clean with a pastry brush as I turn the rollers by hand.

Beverly learned how to make pasta from her mother-in-law. She gave me a hand-written copy of the recipe, but I discovered later that it is essentially the same recipe you would find in Beard on Pasta, James A. Beard (Alfred A. Knopf, 1983), if you looked.

Fresh pasta is very different from dry pasta—and not automatically better for every dish. As a rule of thumb, dried pasta works well with heavier sauces, while fresh pasta shines with lighter ones. It’s like the wand choosing the wizard, as any Harry Potter reader will understand: the sauce chooses the pasta.

That said, with the exception of filled pasta shapes and lasagna noodles, I’m perfectly content with excellent-quality Italian dried pasta. I find it makes a real difference to use pasta made in Italy using bronze dies. I order Pasta Setaro from BuonItalia or Faella from Gustiamo.

These instructions are for making pasta with a food processor and a pasta roller attachment.

1½ cups all-purpose, unbleached flour
Pinch of salt
2 whole large eggs, at room temperature
1 tablespoon oil

Mixing

Put the flour and salt in a food processor fitted with the metal blade. Pulse briefly to combine. Add the eggs and oil through the feed tube and process until the dough begins to form a ball. If it’s too sticky, add a little flour. If it’s too dry, add a few drops of water. Stop as soon as a ball forms.

Turn the dough out onto a floured board. Dust your hands with flour and knead for about 5 minutes. Shape into a ball and flatten slightly.

Resting

Wrap the dough in plastic wrap or place it in a resealable plastic bag. Let it rest for at least 30 minutes—an hour is much better. You can refrigerate it overnight; just bring it back to room temperature before rolling.

Rolling

Cut the dough into four equal pieces. Roll each piece through a pasta roller attachment (such as the KitchenAid stand mixer or a hand-cranked Marcato Atlas). Start at the widest setting and roll through once or twice. Lightly dust with flour, then continue rolling down one setting at a time until the pasta is as thin as you like.

Holding sheets

Keep the rolled sheets covered with kitchen towels as you go.

Cutting

Use the sheets right away for lasagna or to make ravioli. If cutting into strands, use your pasta attachment: fettuccine is your best option (for any recipe that calls for tagliatelle). What the machine labels “spaghetti” will actually be square-edged tonnarelli, not round like classic spaghetti.

Drying

If you’re making ravioli or lasagna, time things so you can use the sheets immediately. If making strands, you can dry them for a few hours by forming nests on a towel, draping them over a kitchen chair, or using a pasta drying rack—though none of that is strictly necessary.

Cooking

Fresh pasta cooks almost instantly, whether or not you’ve dried it—don’t take your eyes off it for a second.

Note

Michael Ruhlman has a lovely section on pasta in his book From Scratch (Abrams, 2019), which I often give as a bridal shower present. Twenty (Chronicle Books, 2010) is my go-to engagement gift. His ratio is easy to follow if you want to adjust the amount of pasta you are making.

Marcella's Miracle Tomato and Butter Sauce

Adapted from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan (Knopf, 1992)

Italians sauce pasta lightly, so — according to Marcella — this is enough for 1 pound of pasta, serving 6. However, we always end up eating all of it even when I’m making less pasta than that, which I usually am.

This is Marcella’s iconic, and arguably best, tomato sauce. It’s the sauce that made her famous, basically because it is a miracle — so much more than the sum of its very simple parts. If you use excellent butter and from-Italy Italian tomatoes, it’s so delicious you may find yourself wanting to eat it straight from the pan. I think putting the tomatoes through a food mill elevates the sauce from good to great, so that’s what I always do.

It is good on any shape. I like it on rigatoni and mezzi rigatoni,  but my favorite is Faella penne lisce, penne without ridges. It doesn’t hold the sauce as well as penne rigate, but it has a silky in the mouth, which works especially well with this elegant sauce.

1 400g can Italian peeled plum tomatoes
5 tablespoons butter (don’t skimp here)
1 medium onion, peeled and cut in half

Added at the end:

Salt to taste
Freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Put the tomatoes through the smallest holes of the food mill directly into a saucepan. I use a 3-quart saucier.

Add the butter — ALL 5 tablespoons — and the onion halves. Simmer uncovered over low heat for about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce has thickened slightly or the butter separates from the tomato.

Add salt right before serving; if you add it earlier, you may add more than you need because the sauce reduces as it cooks. Keep in mind that you will also be adding cheese, which is salty.

Discard the onion. Toss the sauce with the pasta, add Parmigiano-Reggiano, and toss again. I add the cheese before serving, but you can also pass it at the table.

Luisa's Pasta with Ricotta

Adapted from The Wednesday Chef 

In one of Luisa’s posts, there’s a hidden recipe—it’s like a little secret waiting to be discovered. Not only does she share her recommendation for Pasta Setaro (which I used to buy at BuonItalia when I lived in the City and now have shipped to me), but tucked into the post, almost as an aside, she slips in her favorite way to make pasta with tomato sauce and ricotta.

This, with a small arugula salad and a glass of chilled, minerally white wine, is a perfect—perfect—combination. And if it’s August, and the tomatoes are so ripe they’re about to burst through their skins, it’s ethereal.

Start with 1 cup of tomato purée made like this:

– If using fresh tomatoes, cook chopped ripe tomatoes in olive oil with Maldon salt for about 45 minutes, until thickened.

– If using canned tomatoes, cook them the same way for about 20 minutes.

Then pass the tomatoes through a food mill. (If you’re starting with already milled tomatoes, just simmer to reduce slightly.)

Slice 2 to 4 basil leaves into a chiffonade using kitchen shears. Set aside.

In a sauté pan, cook a sliced clove (or two) of garlic in a little olive oil until fragrant and just turning golden. Add the tomato purée.

– If using fresh tomatoes, cook only until just warmed through—they’ve already had a long simmer.

– If using canned, let the mixture cook for a few minutes more to thicken slightly.

Turn off the heat. Stir in the basil. Add 8 ounces of pasta, cooked al dente (enough for two as a main course, or four as a starter), and toss with the sauce.

Just before serving, stir in a couple of dollops of really good fresh ricotta. Add grated cheese if you like—Pecorino Romano is lovely here, and I’d suggest using it sparingly. It’s the ricotta that shines.

Luisa says it’s bliss—and I have to agree.

Pesto

Adapted from Make It Easy in Your Kitchen by Laurie Burrows Grad (HP Books, 1989)

I’m not in love with pesto on pasta.

In Italy, pesto is often tossed with pasta, potatoes, and green beans so everything melds. But even that doesn’t really do it for me. And yet—every summer, basil reappears. It smells so good. It sounds like something I should want to make. So every year, I find myself trying again.

What I like best is to stir a spoonful into soup—especially Marcella’s minestrone, served at room temperature in summer. Or into rice pilaf. It’s a nice condiment to have on hand, to use sparingly.

That’s why I keep a recipe for it.

And for what it’s worth, Paula Wolfert, in Mediterranean Cooking (Alfred A. Knopf, 1977), adds a touch of light cream to her pesto, as they do in Nervi, south of Genoa. That always sounded like cheating to me. But then again, so does adding cream to carbonara or aioli—and it sometimes makes things better. So you decide.

Pesto

1 cup tightly packed fresh basil leaves, stems removed, washed, and dried
½ cup best-quality extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan (or a mix of Parmesan and Pecorino Romano, if you like it sharper)
2 tablespoons pine nuts
3 small garlic cloves, peeled
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
½ teaspoon salt, or to taste (the cheese adds saltiness)
¼ teaspoon white pepper (the original recipe calls for white—I use it, but black would be fine too)

Place everything in the bowl of a food processor and process—pulsing on and off—until smooth and fully blended.

If not using right away, store with a thin film of olive oil on top to prevent discoloration and refrigerate.

To freeze, leave out the cheese and add it after thawing.

The Store Pasta Salad

The Store Pasta Salad, adapted from The Store Cookbook: Recipes and Recollection from "The Store in Amagansett" by Bert Greene and Denis Vaughan (Vintage, 1986)

Serves 6 to 8

The original recipe calls for ziti, but I now use penne with ridges because it holds the dressing so well. It also called for 2 packets of G. Washington Brown Bouillon Powder, but I use a dab of Better Than Bouillon Vegetable Base instead. It's more easily available, and I always have it in the house. 

1½ teaspoons salt
8 ounces penne rigate 
1/4 cup milk
1 red onion
A handful of grape or cherry tomatoes—the equivalent of 2 whole tomatoes
6 sweet pickles (size depends on how much you love sweet pickles)
2 small green peppers, or 1 small green and 1 small red
1 large shallot
½ cup sour cream
1½ cups mayonnaise
A little "dot" of Better Than Bouillon Vegetable Base 
3 grinds fresh pepper (black or white)
Dash of wine vinegar—red or white, your choice (I usually use white)
1 tablespoon sweet pickle juice (from the jar)
A handful of roughly chopped fresh dill (don’t leave this out—it’s important)

Cook the pasta in plenty of boiling salted water. When it’s done, drain and place in a bowl. Add 1/4 cup milk to moisten and toss well.

Chop the onion, pickles, and peppers into ¼-inch cubes. Mince the shallot. Cut the tomatoes in halves or quarters. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, beat together the sour cream and mayonnaise until smooth. Whisk in the vinegar and pickle juice. Add the bouillon, pepper, and salt to taste (remember the bouillon is salty). Whisk again, thinning with a little milk if needed. Reserving some dressing, pour the rest over the pasta. Add the shallot, pickles, and peppers. Mix well.

Chill until serving time. Just before serving, toss again with the reserved dressing and stir in the tomatoes. Snip fresh dill over the top with kitchen shears.

Note: This is a recipe I got from my friend Lee Friedman. She used to buy this pasta salad from The Store in Amagansett when she spent summers in East Hampton. She and her friends did everything they could to reproduce it without success—until The Store Cookbook was published. There was the recipe, with its secret ingredient—G. Washington Brown Bouillon Powder (2 little packets, not 2 boxes)—published for all to see. I can't get that bouillon powder in my grocery store now, so I use a dab of Better Than Bouillon Vegetable Base instead, and it’s actually an improvement.

Herb and Lee Friedman

Green Beans with Tomatoes

Adapted from Marcella’s Italian Kitchen by Marcella Hazan (Alfred A. Knopf, 1986)

Serves 4

This can be served either as a vegetable or as a pasta sauce. It is perfect in summer, when the basil is fresh, the green beans are young, and the tomatoes are beautifully ripe. Having said that, I make it in the dead of winter with canned tomatoes, and it is still delicious. This should make enough for four servings of pasta, although that depends on how much pasta you serve per person. It will definitely make enough for four 2-ounce portions, measured dry before cooking. A 2-ounce portion is apparently considered a starter portion in Italy; around here, it is a dinner portion with vegetables or a large salad.

1 400g can Italian peeled plum tomatoes, cut up, with their juice
1 pound fresh green beans
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus 2 tablespoons if using as a pasta sauce
2 teaspoons garlic, cut into thin slivers, or up to 1 tablespoon if using as a pasta sauce
Salt
¼ cup fresh basil leaves

Trim the stem ends from the green beans, leaving the pointed ends intact, and wash the beans in cold water. If using this as a pasta sauce, cut the beans into 2-inch pieces and use penne.

Choose a pan with a lid that will hold all the green beans. I use a 3-quart saucier.

Add the ¼ cup olive oil and the garlic to the pan and turn the heat to medium. Cook until the garlic is pale gold; do not let it brown.

Add the tomatoes, raise the heat, and cook for about 5 minutes.

Add the green beans, lower the heat to medium, season with salt, and cover the pan. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the beans are tender but not mushy, 15 to 20 minutes.

If the juices in the pan are watery when the beans are done, remove the beans with a slotted spoon, raise the heat, and cook until the excess liquid has evaporated.

If serving as a vegetable, return the beans to the pan, mix in the basil leaves, and serve.

If using this as a pasta sauce, do not add the basil to the pan. When the pasta is cooked and drained, toss it with the beans and all the contents of the pan. Add the basil leaves, toss again, drizzle with the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil, and serve immediately.

Variation Using Fresh Tomatoes

In summer, when the tomatoes are glorious, substitute 1 pound very ripe fresh tomatoes for the canned tomatoes. If using this as a pasta sauce, increase the tomatoes to 1½ pounds.

Add the tomatoes to a pot of boiling water. When the water returns to a boil, cook for about 1 minute. Drain and, when cool enough to handle, peel the tomatoes and cut them into large pieces. Proceed with the recipe, substituting the fresh tomatoes for the canned.

Pasta Amatriciana

Adapted from Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan

Serves 4

This is one of my favorite meals - tomato sauce with pancetta and chili pepper served over pasta. The perfect pasta is bucatini (perciatelli), but penne, rigatoni, and mezzi rigatoni are also good. Get your pancetta from a reliable source because the strength of this dish depends upon the quality of the pancetta. The best I've gotten in New York City is at DiPalo's on Grand Street in Little Italy (now very little Italy) and Eli's on Third Avenue.





2 tablespoons light vegetable oil
1 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, chopped
2 slices of pancetta (fat and lean), ¼-inch-thick, diced
1½ to 2 cups of Italian plum tomatoes, diced, with their juice (a 14½ oz. can is fine)
Dried crushed red pepper to taste
Salt
3 tablespoons freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano cheese
2 tablespoons freshly grated pecorino-romano cheese
Freshly ground black pepper
1 pound pasta

Put the oil, butter, and onion in a saucepan, and turn on the heat to medium. Sauté the onion until it becomes colored a pale gold. Add the pancetta, and cook for about 2 minutes, stirring once or twice. Add the crushed dried red pepper, and cook for 20 to 30 seconds. do not let it burn. Add the tomatoes and a good pinch of salt, and cook in the uncovered pan at a gentle simmer for about 25 minutes. Taste and correct for salt and freshly ground black pepper. Remember, the pancetta and the cheeses are likely to be salty, and the sauce will have reduced a little by now, so be sparing with the salt.

Toss the pasta with the sauce, then add both cheeses, and toss again.

Pasta Shells with Sausage

Adapted from Marcella's Italian Kitchen by Marcella Hazan

Marcella recommends shell shaped pasta here, and she's right about this - the bits of sausage nestle inside the shells perfectly. I use the shell shape of Faella pasta called Tofe, and I get it online from Gustiamo.

The first time I ever ate this, Tracey and I cooked dinner together at what was then her new house. We sat in her kitchen, which was surrounded by windows on three sides, and it was like sitting in a little treehouse. When we started to eat this pasta , we literally did not say one word. It was so good we were speechless!

Sausage Removed from Casing and Flattened

Pasta Shells with Sausage

½ pound mild pork sausage 
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon chopped garlic
⅔ cup canned Italian peeled plum tomatoes, cut coarse, with their juice
¼ cup or a little less of heavy cream
Salt
Black pepper
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
Enough for 1 pound of pasta shells
Freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano

If the sausage is in a casing, squeeze it out onto a plate. Break the sausage meat into pieces about the size of a walnut and flatten them a little.

Heat a sauté pan or saucier, and two tablespoons of olive oil. Let the oil get hot, and add the nuggets of sausage meat. (If you add the sausage to oil that is already hot, it won't stick.)

After the sausage meat is lightly browned, add the garlic, and cook briefly - for about 30 seconds. You want the garlic to color a little but not brown. Add the tomatoes, stir, and cook at a gentle simmer.

After about 20 minutes, when the fat separates from the other juices and floats free, add the cream, and turn up the heat. If you don't like to use cream, you can add just a tiny amount or leave it out, but a tiny amount does improve the dish. Cook for 1 or 2 minutes, stirring frequently until the cream is incorporated and reduced. Add salt. Turn off the heat, and stir in the chopped parsley.

While the sauce is simmering, cook the pasta to the al dente stage. Drain the pasta, add it to the pan the sauce is in, and toss with the sauce. Turn off the heat, and add the freshly grated cheese; toss again, and serve immediately. Let everyone add freshly ground pepper to taste at table, if desired.

Spaghetti with Olive Oil and Garlic

Adapted from An A–Z of Pasta by Rachel Roddy (Knopf, 2023)

Serves 4

Regarding the amount of pasta to make, Rachel Roddy says “we need a rule of thumb.” Her advice is to make 2 to 3½ ounces of dried pasta per person, keeping in mind that in Italy pasta is often served as a first course. Walter and I eat 2 ounces each as a dinner serving—the smaller amount.

For long pasta, I boil water in a 6-quart All-Clad pot that is 11 inches wide by 4 inches deep. I can drop the long pasta flat into it all at once. For unfilled shapes, I boil water in a 4-quart All-Clad pot that is 8 inches wide by 5 inches deep.

14 ounces spaghetti (I use Pasta Setaro spaghetti chitarra or Faella spaghetti)
½ cup olive oil (I agree this is generous)
Crushed red pepper flakes, to taste
2 to 4 cloves garlic, peeled and sliced very thinly
Salt
A handful of fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Bring a large pot of water to a boil and salt the water generously. Add the spaghetti and stir. Set a timer for 2 minutes before you expect the pasta to be done.

Warm the olive oil in a skillet or saucier. Add the garlic and crushed red pepper flakes. You can let the garlic sizzle gently, but be careful not to let it color at all. Add a pinch of salt and stir.

When the timer goes off, put a ladleful of the cooking water into the pan with the garlic and stir. Lift the spaghetti from the water with tongs and put it in the sauce. Sprinkle with the parsley and cook, stirring it around, for a minute more.

Serve immediately without cheese.

Guiliano Hazan's Tomato & Onion Sauce

Adapted from Every Night Italian by Giuliano Hazan (Scribner, 2000)

This adaptation of his mother Marcella’s famous Tomato and Onion Sauce is better than the sum of its parts. The difference between this and Marcella’s version is that her son thinly slices the onion instead of halving it. A simple change, yes, but one that alters the sauce’s texture and flavor. You’ll probably want both in your repertoire.

Because Italians sauce their pasta very lightly, this is enough for 1 pound of pasta. I like it with spaghetti or rigatoni.

1 cup very thin yellow onion slices
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
One 400g can Italian whole peeled tomatoes, with their juice, crushed with your hands
Salt
⅓ cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (or half Parmigiano and half Pecorino Romano, if you like its sharpness)
Freshly ground black pepper, optional

Put the onion and butter in a sauté pan or saucier over medium-low heat. Sauté the onion slowly—very slowly—until it turns a light caramel color. This will take about 10 to 12 minutes.

Add the tomatoes and season lightly with salt, keeping in mind that you’ll add cheese at the end. Raise the heat slightly so the sauce simmers gently. Cook until the butter begins to separate from the sauce and small pools form on the surface, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, bring at least 6 quarts of well-salted water to a boil. Cook the pasta until al dente, then drain and immediately toss with the sauce. Mix in the grated cheese and season with pepper, if using. Serve at once.

"Macarini "& Cheese

Adapted from The South’s Legendary Frances Virginia Tearoom Cookbook by Mildred Huff Coleman (second edition, 1996; printed by Standard Press, Inc.).

Serves 4 to 6

This is a custard-based macaroni and cheese. It does not have four cheeses or a secret ingredient. You do not make a cheese sauce. It is baked and custardy, not creamy.

Around here, we call it macarini and cheese because one summer, when I asked someone in my office to send me a copy of the recipe, she put “Macarini” in the Re: line of the email. It seemed funny at the time, and it stuck.

I once had Sunday supper in Cleveland at the home of my friend Polly’s mother. She had people over in the late afternoon after they had all been to the symphony. It was a warm, sunny day in early summer. The women wore cool cotton dresses; the men, linen blazers. Ruth was a good cook. Now, almost forty years later, I still have a number of her favorite recipes in the loose-leaf book of things I cook most.

That day the menu was plain: classic chicken salad, macaroni and cheese, a huge tossed Caesar-like salad, and triangles of toasted buttered pita bread, which I had never seen before, since bags of pita chips were not yet available at the market. Dinner was served buffet-style, and people found chairs to perch on—or not—but no one sat at a table. Everyone had a great time, drinking chilled white wine and eating everything in sight. The macaroni and cheese, in particular, disappeared in the blink of an eye. It was then I realized that simple, even humble, food can make a great party.

4 ounces uncooked elbow macaroni (If measured, this is a generous cup.)
2 cups whole milk
1 egg, lightly beaten
⅛ to ¼ teaspoon salt
8 ounces sharp cheddar cheese, cut into small cubes
A little butter to coat the casserole
2 tablespoons butter, optional, for dotting the top

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter a 1½-quart casserole. The one I use is Pyrex, rounded on the bottom.

Cook the macaroni in boiling salted water until slightly underdone. Drain, and set aside.

Mix the beaten egg, milk, and salt together in a medium bowl. Add the cooked macaroni and the cubes of cheese, and stir. Pour the mixture into the buttered casserole. Dot the top with slivers of butter, if you are using them.

Bake until firm and lightly brown, about 30 minutes. Let stand for a few minutes before serving.

Note: I have never had this work properly with anything other than elbow macaroni. I mostly use De Cecco, since I can usually find it.

Linguine All'Alfredo

Adapted from The Classic Pasta Cookbook by Giuliano Hazan

The first time I ate  pasta with an All'Alfredo sauce was in the late 1960's at Giambelli 50th Ristorante in NYC. It was Paglia e Fieno (straw and hay), green and gold fettuccine, prepared at table by a waiter, and I tried to replicate it at home, but there was something ineffable in Giambelli's sauce that I could never quite put my finger on - a certain umami quality that added depth and flavor. I now realize it must have had a dot of veal demi-glace, which I reproduce by adding a wee amount of Better Than Bouillon Vegetable Base, which I always have in the refrigerator. I start with just a smidge of it and then taste to make sure it's enough. I suggest you try it here because it's the way I like it, but you can just leave it out.

Although fettuccine is the traditional pasta to serve with this sauce, I prefer Faella linguine for the taste and texture. This recipe coats one pound of pasta and can easily be adjusted down if you are making less than that, which in this house is essentially always. It's very rich so I serve 2 ounces of pasta per person. I've made it so often, I don't measure the ingredients per se, I just add them by instinct, and you will too after you've made it once.

Linguine All'Alfredo
From The Classic Pasta Cookbook by Giuliano Hazan

For 1 pound of pasta 

1 pound dried linguine
3 tablespoons butter
1 cup heavy cream
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
Salt and black pepper 
Smidge of Better Than Bouillon Vegetable Base
½ cup freshly grated parmesan cheese (The really good stuff makes this shine.)

Put put a large pot of water on the stove, and bring to a boil while you start to make the sauce in a pan large enough to hold all the pasta when it's done - a skillet, saucier, or sauté pan. While the water is heating, put the butter and cream in the pan  you are using to make the sauce in over medium-high heat. Let it come to a boil, stirring frequently until the cream thickens and has reduced almost by half. If you are using the vegetable base, add a tiny amount now, and stir to incorporate it into the sauce. Taste to make sure it's enough, then add the nutmeg, salt, and pepper. Turn the  heat off.  

Add salt to the boiling water, then add the pasta, and cook until al dente. If the sauce has cooled down, heat it up gently but not enough to thicken the sauce further, then remove it from the heat. Drain the pasta, and add to the pan with the sauce in it. Toss the pasta to coat it well with the sauce, then add  grated cheese and toss again. Taste and add more salt and pepper if desired. Serve immediately.