RECORD STORE TAILS #1189: Aglio e Olio

Growing up in an Italian family, we ate a lot of pasta.  Usually it was the tried and true spaghetti and meatballs.  Even though she’s not Italian, my mom makes a mean lasagna.  These were always treats and delights to have for dinner, but as far as pasta went, nothing topped my Aunt Maria’s aglio e olio.

It’s very simple yet requires knowledge and the perfect touch.  Aglio e olio is simply spaghetti in olive oil and garlic.  It’s usually served with chili flakes and parsley or other herbs.  As simple as it gets; no red sauce and no meat.  If you do add meat, I recommend medium rare steak or garlic shrimp.  It’s up to you; my sister Dr. Kathryn likes hers with mushrooms.

We looked forward to aglio with Aunt every time there was a special occasion.  My aunt would often make a meal for the rest of the family, such as a ham, but also make a batch of aglio special for me.  We had it for birthdays and we had it for visits.  Try as we might, we never could quite get the recipe right at home.  The recipe had been passed down from her mother, and she made it better than most restaurants.  There were tricks to it, as it turns out, that I had completely missed.

Aunt never added meat to her aglio.  She never had to.  The garlic was always soft and golden, and the overall gestault of the pasta gave an aura of umami even without meat.  You could add kalamata olives if you wanted to keep it vegan but add even more saltiness.

I attempted many variations of this at home, all failures.  I tried cheating and using garlic olive oil, or enhancing the pasta with garlic powder.  Awful!  I added vegetables and cheeses in the effort to bring in more flavour, never matching my aunt’s perfection.  I would phone them at their home in Stratford and ask for tips.  Obviously something was getting lost in translation, because it always came out bland.

And they said it was the simplest one!  Indeed, look at an Italian restaurant’s menu and aglio e olio is always the cheapest of the spaghettis.  There’s hardly anything to it.

I thought the secret was to make sure you added some hot, starchy pasta water to the oily mixture of garlic and extra virgin olive oil.  Simple enough.  What I didn’t really understand until Saturday, May 18 2025 was that I was doing everything right, just not enough.

I was determined to get it right this time.  I asked Jen to pick up a nice steak and some spaghetti and I was going to get aglio e olio right for a change.  For the first time.

Dutifully she came home with a beautiful strip loin with a nice cap of fat, at 50% off because she knows exactly when during the week the meat goes on sale.  I rubbed it with olive coil, sea salt, ground pepper, and a little Montreal steak spice for Jen.  She likes it; I can do without except in light moderation.  I chopped up a whole bulb of garlic into different sized chunks, for a variety of flavours and textures as you found them on your fork.  I smooshed some.  It varied.

Using my cast iron pan, I seared that steak on medium high on all four sides, and then let it cook a little longer after turning the heat down.  I chopped some parsley and let the steak rest.  It was a perfect medium rare, as I’d discover at the end when I finally sliced it.  It was also perfectly seasoned.

I set a pot to boil, adding a little olive oil to the water (I understand this helps keep the spaghetti from sticking), and a lot of table salt.  Not sea salt; table salt.  I didn’t measure, but it was a lot.

“Aglio can’t be too salty;” I reasoned.  Every time I made it in the past, I sought ways to up the saltiness, be it with meat or olives.  Salting it at the table didn’t work.  What I learned was, you have to salt the pasta by salting the water, generously.  This is what will give the aglio its flavour later on, enhancing the garlic and finally making its presence known.

Once the water is at a vigorous boil, I throw in a whole package of spaghetti.  I cracked the noodles in half and dumped them in the water.  I put the lid on and they cooked quickly.

I already had a saucepan full of olive oil going at medium heat.  Exactly three minutes after I put the spaghetti in the water, I dumped all my garlic in the olive oil, stirring frequently and ensuring it didn’t burn.

Always taste your spaghetti frequently to make sure it’s not going to be overcooked.  That’s the worst.  Instead, take the spaghetti out of the water about a minute before it’ll be at the perfect done-ness for you.  As soon as I took my first taste of the not-yet-cooked noodles, I knew I was close.  I hadn’t tasted that since my aunt made aglio at the cottage.  It was so familiar.  When the spaghetti was done, I drained it immediately.  Key here is to save at least 1/2 cup of that salty, starchy pasta water, because you’re going to immediately transfer all the pasta into the saucepan with the garlic oil.  Pour in the 1/2 cup of water and mix everything together in the saucepan, ensuring you coat every strand of spaghetti with that starchy garlic oil.  Throw in some chili flakes and parsley.  Add Parmesan cheese at the table to taste.

I threw some beautiful steak slices on top and served.  My aunt’s recipe had been saved.

You see, my aunt has been suffering from Alzheimer’s for many years now.  She can’t cook and wouldn’t be able to tell us the recipe anymore.  It would have been lost.  I saved it today.  Let it be known, that on May 18 2025, I saved the Maria Ladano (Festoso) recipe for aglio e olio.  It lives again.

I know that my aunt doesn’t understand what is happening to her right now, but I hope that her spirit would be gladdened to know that I have saved this classic recipe for all time.  Here it is.  I just wrote it down.  It can never go away now.

Thank you Aunt Maria.  For all the toy trucks, GI Joes and Transformers and CDs and tapes, the spaghetti was the best gift.