Author Notes

I used to make a yearly trip to Tuscany, where my husband and I would stay at an exquisite hotel called Borgo Pretale. One evening, Daniele Rizzardini, the brilliant and endearing manager of the hotel, joined us for dinner on the lavender-lined terrace. On the menu that night were trofie, handmade little pasta squiggles.



"Do you know about 'sexy pasta'?" Daniele said. I looked at him, incredulous, wondering if he was pulling my leg. "Let me tell you a story,"€ he went on. "€œIn the old days, the women of sea villages would get together in the afternoon. They would gather near the port, bringing with them a bowl of pasta dough and a chair, and casually roll trofie while waiting for their husbands to return from their fishing trips. The best part is that they rolled the pasta on the side of their knees - hence, 'Sexy pasta!'"€



I thought the story was enchanting. Suddenly my bowl of trofie had acquired a glow and I dove right in. Sexy or not, the pasta was sublime.



A few weeks later, I found myself in my own kitchen, with a beautiful pasta dough I'€™d just made, trying to roll trofie on the side of my knee and feeling more than a bit ridiculous. It took a few tries for me to figure out that you had to be a fisherman's wife for this to work.



Nowadays, I'm more inclined to buy my trofie already made, but every time I take a bite of the enticing squiggles, I can'€™t help but think of Daniele and of the sexy knees of the fishermen'€™s wives. —Viviane Bauquet Farre