The Pasta Revolution in Italy:From Family Kitchens to Factory Mills

From Latin durum, neuter of durus "hard," and suffixed variant form of root deru- "be firm, solid, steadfast."

Steadfast in their traditional ways, the townswomen commanded the family kitchens. Making pasta was a highly specialized form of labor; it was tedious, difficult, and physically taxing work. The women kneaded the dough with their feet—exactly like mashing grapes. It often took 2‒3 hours to stomp a batch of durum wheat flour—called, semola or semolina—with cold water. The dough was then transferred onto a rolling pin—called a schianaturo or laganaturo. From there, the women sculpted various shapes of fusilli, tufoli, vermicelli, and the like with hardy hands. Every day, these pastas were hung to dry, packed into large baskets, and carried by mules down remote mountain paths to the nearest city.

Italy is one of the largest agricultural producers in the EU—an achievement largely owed to the country’s year-round temperate climate. The northern part of Italy produces grains, soybeans, meat, and dairy products, while the south specializes in fruits, vegetables, olive oil, wine, and durum wheat. In Naples and Sicily, the hot, dry volcanic air mixes harmoniously with the cool sea breeze to cultivate golden fields of grano duro (triticum durum). The resulting flour yields varying degrees of “graininess”: semola, semolato, semola, semola integrale, and semolina. Semolina has a distinctive yellow color and coarse texture, comparable to cornmeal. It is high in protein—averaging between 12-15%—and when massaged with water, activates its gluten content. It’s the gluten that makes the dough malleable enough to be stretched into different shapes without cracking, and strong enough to stand up to boiling. The word, gluten derives from the Latin term for “glue,” after all. When the semolina pasta is dry and hard, it can last for years in storage. 

The long shelf life was a benefit exercised as early as the 13th century by the Genoese. Genoa was renowned for its pasta makers and mariners. They were well accustomed to living life at sea, with voyages that took them far from fresh food for many months at a time. Dried pasta and pesto alla Genovese quickly expanded from cabin culture to coveted cuisine in no time. In the 14th and 15th centuries, explorers of the New World capitalized on the very same qualities. Among the supplies Europeans brought to establish colonies in America, were shipments of pasta. 

The English cooked pasta for at least half an hour, then smothered it with cream sauce and cheese. If you are imagining the early makings of “mac n’ cheese,” you’d be correct! Inspired by his travels through northern Italy, Thomas Jefferson—the third President of the United States—drew up a blueprint to build the first maccheroni machine in America in 1789. The first industrial pasta factory in America was built in Brooklyn, New York in 1848 by a French immigrant. Then in 1867, a German immigrant named Christian Mueller, sold pasta door-to-door in New Jersey, growing the pasta market even more.

The mechanical production of pasta in the south of Italy was well on its way in the sixteenth century. The breakthrough in working methods came with the appearance of the first ingegni. These were simple machines that made the process faster and easier, and the increased production made pasta more accessible to different economic groups. The ’ngegno da maccaruni consisted of a wooden cylinder made from a single piece of oak, lined with copper and secured with bolts. A screw piston pushed dough through a “die” (a perforated metal plate that cut and shaped the pasta), from which emerged the first maccheroni, with a perfectly centered hole. Neapolitans became known as mangia-maccheroni—“macaroni eaters”—who famously shoveled handfuls of pasta from plate to mouth. From 1700 to 1785, pasta shops grew from 60 to 280 in Naples, alone. In the early 20th century, the city of Gragnano was crowned queen of dry pasta, with nearly 120 factories at work. European nobles would visit the Campania region and bring back pasta as proof they had eaten their fair share of Gragnano’s delicacy. 

The advent of industry introduced names that reflected the evolving technology. For example: ruote (wheels), and the smaller rotelle, rotelline, eliche (propellers), and even dischi volanti (flying saucers) became part of the vernacular. Dies, which had originally been made with bronze, were revamped with nickel and other noncorrosive materials. Italian scholars estimated the number of pasta shapes grew from about 150 to more than 800, as a result. New folding and cutting machines produced long pastas that were diverse in length, width, and thickness—formats that were in high demand in the south. L’Esposizione Nazionale Del 1891-92 presented an illustrated catalog of more than 100 pasta formats to Sicilian producers and Palermo’s residents. 

Though pasta access and exports increased with the industrial revolution, the prevalence of pasta on the tables of ordinary Italian folk is a relatively modern luxury. Just before and after World War II, four-fifths of the countryside’s population had a diet comprising plants. Pasta was reserved for special occasions, such as feast days, and was often served in a legume soup. The 1960s economic boom popularized the daily consumption of pasta in rural communities; however, social commentary was still ingrained in every dish. From the pasta ingredients alone, people could deduce how prosperous a village was. In Tuscany, frascarelli contained eggs; in Piedmont, old money was visible in the tajarin—sometimes made only with yolks; and in Bologna, pasta all’uovo was commonplace. 

The next time you cook up a home-made batch of macaroni and cheese, or empty the contents of boxed cheddar pasta, you have the Italian matriarchs to thank! And, I guess Thomas Jefferson, too…

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