Rachel Roddy's recipe for pasta con le zucchine – zucchini and basil pasta | A kitchen in Rome

This week's recipe is the last meal I made in Rome before we left for three weeks in Sicily. In the previous days, we had "eaten". I don't know where I got that expression, the long version of which is "eat the fridge" - that is, eat whatever comes before the holidays. But I picked it up, and now it pops up like a cold sore every time I look at the fridge as the holidays approach. Anyway, it was fine: there was just milk, cherry yogurt, already hard parmesan cheese, lettuce for the friend who came to feed the turtle, and there was a big zucchini left.< /p>

While a well-stocked fridge is full of possibilities, it also gives you choices and decisions. A near void, on the other hand, takes responsibility and tells you what to do. Fry the zucchini, says the fridge. How? The answer to that can be found in my as-yet-unpublished pamphlet, How to Turn Any Vegetable into Pasta Sauce, a six-section job: boiling (which is usually followed by dredging), roasting, beating, dicing, fry and steam braise. Steam braising is the best section, as it's a great approach: first fry the vegetable in oil (not to brown it, but to seal the surface), then add just enough water and salt so that the vegetable bubbles and evaporates on its own. juice. The liquid reduces as the zucchini softens and crumbles enough to become a sauce.

Steam braised works for most vegetables, and particularly for artichokes, peas (frozen or fresh), pumpkin and zucchini. Some also say broccoli, but I think it's best cooked according to the first section - i.e. boiled and dragged, or strascinati, a very Roman way, which I have already spoken. Letting the zucchini cook slowly, first frying them and then simmering them in their own juices, brings out their sweetness, which needs to be seasoned well with salt and grated cheese. Their texture is pasty, so if you're not a fan of that, skip to section five: frying.

Every time I make pasta with zucchini now , it reminds me of an essay in Rebecca May Johnson's wonderful new book, Small Fires: An Epic in the Kitchen, about making something a thousand times and how repetition turns recipes into the conversations we have with us ourselves, shaping both us and the recipe. Repetition teaches, maybe reassures, maybe bores – and is no guarantee against the unexpected. Which is hardly surprising, given all the knives, fire and appetites. I recommend the book for its beautiful, insightful, sweeping essays and all the cooking dances.

Serve this pasta with plenty of grated parmesan or pecorino. Alternatively, and for extra texture, fresh white breadcrumbs tossed with olive oil and salt, then toasted in a skillet until golden and crispy. And, for the pudding, this long cherry yoghurt you have to eat.

Preparation 15 minCooking 20 minServing 4

3 medium courgettes2 garlic cloves6 tbsp olive oilSalt1 handful of basil leaves400-500g pasta - fusilli, spaghetti, mezze maniche or casarecceGrated Parmesan cheese or pecorino, to serve (or a handful of breadcrumbs , tossed with olive oil and salt, and grilled in a skillet until golden brown)

Stalk the courgettes, then cut them cut them into 1 cm thick pieces. Crush the garlic cloves with the side of the knife, so that they split, but remain intact, and the skins come off.

Put the oil, the garlic, zucchini and a pinch of salt in a skillet over low-medium heat and gently sauté the zucchini, turning after a few minutes. Gently fry the other side for a few minutes, then add a few tablespoons of warm water to the pan and let it boil. Add more water and repeat until the zucchini is very tender and crumbles with just a little...