Cappelletti Romagnoli

The first useful thing to know about Italian cooking is that, as such, it actually doesn't exist. What exists are the regional cuisines, and they guard their distinctions fiercely. In Bologna, they make tortellini filled with pork, prosciutto, and mortadella. Cross the border into Romagna, and you find cappelletti filled with cheese. To confuse the two is to misunderstand everything.

I grew up on the Adriatic coast, in Cesenatico, where cappelletti appeared on every Christmas table. My grandmother's filling was simple: fresh soft cheese, Parmigiano-Reggiano, egg, and a whisper of nutmeg. Nothing more. The filling should taste of cheese, not of meat. This is the fundamental difference that Americans never learn.

The broth matters as much as the pasta. Capon broth, golden and clear, made from an old rooster that has given its flavor to the pot. The cappelletti swim in this broth, absorbing it, releasing their cheese into the liquid. You eat them with a spoon, fishing for each little hat, drinking the broth between bites. This is how Christmas begins in Romagna.