Puttanesca. I've done a load of things I've called puttanesca before. Basically if it's pasta with all the usual plus black olives, it's puttanesca. Have procured a tin of anchovies and a jar of a capers for the particular purpose of making a relatively authentic one. Recipes abound. Which one to follow? Nominate @peds.
While I'm on the subject, a story about puttanesca and life. At uni, the least popular lecturer teaching the least popular module demanded a bit of coursework be completed in groups. I'd kicked off about this with other lecturers and done all mine solo but this time I was for some reason amenable to a joint venture. I forget exactly how it came to pass but I approached a girl who had fallen back a year to do the work with me. She was a bit of an outsider, a bit goth, all her mates moving on and her held back but she had something about her. It wasn't pity but I felt some compulsion.
She came over to my digs to do the work. She told me about the various troubles she was having with life: long commute in, working nights on the front desk of a lapdancing club, trouble with the rent, scum neighbours, difficult family etc etc. The poor girl was not having a great time. I whipped us up a spaghetti puttanesca (because I always had olives in) and listened to her woes. She was living on toast and supernoodles so a decent meal was a revelation I think. We had the nicest couple of evenings writing some shit about whatever but most of all bonding and making her feel human.
Anyway. Assignment went in, did fine, move on. Spoke every now and then but we both had things to get on with. Roll on the end of uni. We've all graduated and are out on the piss. She came up to me in some bar and poured her heart out. She was at the time feeling totally shit about life, about to ditch the course etc and it was basically a restorative feed and a few hours of shared time that pulled her round. Man, I've never felt so good. The little things you can do for someone that can make such a big difference. I have tears in my eyes thinking about it. I felt like a father.
She's doing fine now. Married, professional job and all that. We talk occasionally. We're not bezzies because that would be weird. I'm a fair bit older and we have very different lifestyles. But we've got this lovely little bond, just from cooking her dinner.