Pasta with pesto makes unceremonious appearances in so many "Italian" restaurants that I didn't expect any culinary revelations when I tried this dish on a recent trip to Liguria. All our friends who've been to this coastal region in the Northern part of Italy had only one advice when it came to food: "their pasta with pesto is amazing." I didn't take it seriously. After all, most Americans are so infatuated with Italian food, that as long as they can imagine a cheerful farmer harvesting his crops and a grandma toiling in the kitchen, they'll confuse even the most mediocre fare for gastronomic greatness.

I was, however, very keen on trying Ligurian seafood, and since we only had one dinner in that region, I was not going to leave the choice of restaurant to chance. As we were walking through the narrow streets of Levanto lined with pastel houses, I was racking my brain for a plan. Based on unremarkable breakfast at our B&B, I thought that asking our hostess for a recommendation would be dicey. But who else could we ask? We didn't know anyone in Liguria and tourist office was unlikely to be of any help.

As we passed a bakery, the smell of rosemary focaccia made me hungry and reminded me of the picnic we had last night on the beach with focaccia and some goodies we picked up at a local Gastronomia. By the time we realize that utensils might come in handy, the stores already closed, so we ate our marinated eggplant, pickled mushrooms, and a huge ball of buffalo mozzarella with our hands while watching the copper sun melt into the sea. It suddenly dawned on me - we could ask the owner of the Gastronomia for a recommendation. Fumbling through my phrase book I formed a sentence inquiring about a great seafood restaurant. He didn't hesitate for a moment and wrote down "l'Oasi" on a brown paper bag.

L'Oasi looked a bit fancier than I expected. I could sense that Jason would rather have another picnic on the beach, but I was hoping that the tantalizing smells coming from the open kitchen would distract him from the white tablecloths and black-tuxedo-clad waiters. As we tasted the paper thin smoked tuna, plump packets of stuffed squid, and a salad of tender octopus, we felt right at home. From the seafood appetizers to whole grilled fish, every dish exceeded even my already high expectations. But the most delicious and memorable part of the meal was a Ligurian pasta, called trofie al pesto. I'll never forget the heady perfume that filled the room as the waiter brought out a large steaming bowl. We waited impatiently as he spooned the squiggly little bits coated with jade elixir of basil into two bowls and placed them before us. The toothsome little bits were so intoxicating that they disappeared all too quickly, and we sat over our bowls, barely resisting the urge to lick them, trying to inhale the last breaths of this herbal aromatherapy.

Like so many great Italian dishes, trofie al pesto is much more than the sum of its parts. How could such a simple dish be so wonderful still puzzles me. I don't buy the traditional explanation that it's all about the ingredients - that's just our excuse for not putting in the effort real Italian dishes require. Great ingredients are only the beginning; it's up to the cook to make them into a great dish.

Pesto
Trofie al Pesto

Note: While making your own pasta might be more than you want to tackle, the pesto is a five minute undertaking. Serve it with any type of pasta, as a dip for bread, or topping for grilled fish and chicken.