An intellectual and poet of the table, an anarchist of taste, a fierce defender of peasant labor and the genius loci against the homogenization of food, Veronelli perceived in pastasciutta the most intimate essence of Italian identity, and in that love which Italians, himself included, have ever harbored for it, a passion impossible to harness within any boundary, be it of measure or of reason. From Vetta d'Italia to Punta Pesce Spada, pasta is, indeed, almost a creed, an act of cultural affirmation and resistance that assumes the generous forms of maccheroni or paccheri, the sinuosity of spaghetti, vermicelli, and bucatini, and the voluptuousness of pappardelle, tagliatelle, and pizzoccheri. Celebrated in literature and art, as well as in folk traditions, Veronelli sublimates pastasciutta as the “quintessence of culinary irrationality,” a sentiment that finds no logical explanation yet manifests as a national frailty, rising to become a symbol of the country itself. The ineffable mystery of pasta begins with the frugality of its ingredients, and often of the sauces that accompany it, a simplicity that does not threaten its allure but, on the contrary, heightens the enchantment of simplicity transmuting into excellence. In the historic column Le Ricette del Mese (The Recipes of the Month), which Veronelli penned for the monthly magazine La Donna in the early 1960s, issue number 5 is entirely dedicated to pastasciutta; not a mere inventory of recipes, but rather a vibrant contribution exploring some facets of the most democratic and aristocratic dish of our kitchen. As a grand connoisseur of the product, Veronelli does not refrain from imparting certain sacred precepts: the water for boiling the pasta must be abundant, as must the salt, and the vessel wide, measures that keep the boil lively and prevent the pasta from sticking; it must be cooked al dente, judging the point of doneness with experience—no universal duration exists, for it depends strictly upon the quality of the pasta and the ingredients, especially the flours, employed to craft it; furthermore, he suggests that once drained, it should be lightly splashed with a little cool water to halt the cooking without chilling it, and then dressed. According to Veronelli, since pasta “abhors” direct and prolonged contact with fats, save for rarest exceptions, it should not be tossed in the pan with the sauce, but rather dressed “at the tip of the fork” and served immediately, strictly piping hot. He further reveals a grand little secret: the cheese should be scattered upon the pasta before the sauce, so that the latter, with its heat, may beautifully melt the cheese, perfecting an ideal fusion among the ingredients. Each preparation of pasta, the celebrated anarcho-enologist emphasizes, has its own wine to wed. The golden rule? It is the condiment that dictates the choice of wine—“if fish-based, dry white wines; if meat-based, light, dry red wines; if game-based, robust red wines.” Thus, starting from the sumptuous Maccheroncelli alla Pupa Ammiraglia, with a robust meat ragù and meatballs enriched with marrow and lemon, and then passing through the languorous dish of Spaghetti with clams, which in the Neapolitan realm of pastasciutta inspired the poète maudit Tristan Corbière for his “Sonnet to Naples,” the journey into the mitochondria of Italianness continues in Sicily, in a “garden shimmering with wrinkled, golden-yellow oranges beneath a wrinkled, golden-yellow sun,” in the presence of Solar spaghetti with cuttlefish and tomato, and then further into the world of egg pasta, prepared in this instance with the typical chitarra over which, Veronelli writes, the beautiful women of Abruzzo have inclined from time immemorial; here then, the Green fettuccine alla chitarra, with their dough of fresh spinach, eggs, and flour, yield the stage to the Tagliatelle of the curate, a first course that was prepared for the Master “in serene joy, by the housekeeper of a charming curate from Chioggia,” featuring a light red sauce with fresh mushrooms and flaked tuna. An irredeemable lover of pasta, Veronelli knew better than anyone else how to grasp and convey how it represents one of the cultural pillars around which gravitates our sense of national belonging, our traditions, and our history, between past, present, and future.