I find the combination of pasta and seafood so irresistible that I spend way more time than can possibly be good for me — or that I can justify as professionally enriching — gazing at screens showing creamy linguine with mussels and scallops, or spaghetti with shrimp in one tomatoey sauce or another. Just try the hashtag #seafoodpasta on Instagram, and you’ll know what I mean.
Beyond the images, though, what makes these dishes so compelling are the deep flavors generated by seafood as it cooks, creating a virtually instant stock that emulsifies with the pasta’s starches. The ability of these sauces to coat, and the layers of seaside aromas they generate, are what make me — and many thousands like me, I’ll say in my defense — salivate over a bowl of spaghetti alle vongole peering at me from a bright display.
A more complex seafood couscous starts with shrimp stock. CreditAndrew Scrivani for The New York Times. Food Stylist: Martha Tinkler.
Vongole is the most straightforward take on this theme. The version you choose to cook, however, can be as simple or as complex as you need it to be. My emphasis is on need.
In my cookbook, “Ottolenghi Simple,” which was published in the United States last week, I have made a conscious effort to create dishes that do everything I love to do with my food — it must be surprising and multilayered, yet comforting and simply good — while giving people the opportunity to easily fit cooking into their busy lives. You can cook for an occasion from it, but you can also cook occasionally, with far less commitment or effort.
Writing the book, I was surprised to discover how a set of flavors that I love and constantly cook with can be harnessed for totally different purposes and for varying degrees of effort or skill.
The pearl couscous is cooked in the shrimp stock and topped with clams and shrimp. CreditAndrew Scrivani for The New York Times. Food Stylist: Martha Tinkler
Take the classic combination of seafood, fennel and tomato.
My pearl couscous with shrimp, clams and tarragon is a reflection of my cheffy instincts. It involves making stock using the shrimp shells. It also calls for cooking the fennel, prawns and tomatoes separately and placing the last two on top of the pasta, like a Spanish paella, displaying them in their unadulterated glory.
It’s delicious and impressive — and likely to win you lots of Instagram likes — but there’s a certain commitment involved that makes it a special occasion kind of dish.
My shrimp Bolognese is quite the opposite. It does what pasta does so well, offering a quick solution with little fuss. It looks and sounds homemade, which makes it reassuringly accessible — but it also captures the allure that makes me so hopelessly infatuated with pasta and seafood.
Recipes: Pearl Couscous With Shrimp and Clams | Shrimp Bolognese
