The Case of the Disappearing Spaghetti Style

Last night we tried Pasta Joy Spaghetti Style with Rice Bran (Brown Rice Pasta), which I had earlier selected (for pantry-replenishment purposes) from the gluten-free shelf at Wegmans. Printed right on the label, for everyone to see, was the promise of excellent results and al dente perfection every time. 'How can I go wrong?' I thought optimistically, as later I prepared copious amounts of salted water for boilage. The packet instructions indicated the product should be cooked in the usual pasta-like manner, although with a slightly longer bubbling time than might generally be considered prudent.

As luck would have it, I had a built-in point of comparison for the new noodles. The Kid Squid, perhaps not as supportive as a loyal son ought to be, expressed a preference for his favorite Barilla spaghetti. Sir, on the other hand, agreed to try Spaghetti Style - a demonstration of solidarity that will not soon be forgotten. A simple tomato sauce was concocted (with a few added meatballs for certain members of the party) and pasta preparation commenced.

Three four-ounce dry rations of spaghetti and Spaghetti Style were duly apportioned. Even before cooking, there were a few marked differences between the traditional and brown rice varieties in terms of color, texture, and aroma. Instead of the rich golden hue of the Italian product, so reminiscent of Puglia and its rolling fields of durum wheat, the Canadian pasta (did I mention it was from Canada?) had a muddy brown sepia tone more appropriate for the slushy puddles found, one imagines, during late winter in Toronto. The outside surface was a bit raspy, like sandpaper, which caused it to snag on the cutting board rather than roll impishly off the countertop as the Italian stuff is wont to do.  Finally, the aroma of the rice version was notably nutty - fine for financiers, but a bit too earnest for pasta, in my opinion.

Into the pots for their allotted cooking times! Sure enough, the rice pasta took longer, as promised by the good folks at the manufacturer. About eight minutes longer, as it happened, during which I accidentally ingested gluten when I unthinkingly tested the Kid Squid's pasta for doneness  (a task for which he himself is responsible thenceforward). I must have missed the rice pasta's very narrow window for 'al dente perfection', because by the time the chalky interior of the Spaghetti Style was deemed ready for consumption, the outside was mushy and gelatinous. I will spend some time refining cooking times and report the results to breathless readers in a future posting.

All this was as nothing, however, compared to the disaster that followed. I dumped the Kid Squid's Barilla into the colander with predictably satisfactory results. When I decanted the Spaghetti Style, however, I was shocked - shocked! - to discover a measly pile of pasta barely sufficient to feed one hungry adult. A quick calculation confirmed that eight ounces had indeed gone into the pot twenty minutes before, yet the finished bowlful looked barely larger than Kid Squid's (which supposedly contained only half the pasta in dry weight). A frenzied consultation ensued. I maintained that some of the Spaghetti Style had inexplicably disappeared during cooking, while Sir argued contrary-wise that the Barilla had somehow increased in volume. Whose hypothesis was correct? The tension level in the kitchen mounted as I considered the joylessness of nothing but spaghetti sauce for dinner.

After Sir and I had finished competing for the remaining rice pasta we reached a sort of detente by devising an experimental test plan, the execution of which should provide sufficient empirical data to unravel the mystery. My previously anticipated weekend project, the development of a gluten-free madeleine recipe, will have to be postponed until this more urgent business is concluded. 

The guilty party

Next up: the exciting results of my g/f spaghetti experiments