David Bowie: Pasta Puttanesca Recipe

I was on Twitter yesterday and found this gem from the incomparable Bowie-fan account @CrayonToCrayon.  Immediately, I had to go research if this was actually "a thing", and apparently, in the 80s, it was.

He donated his recipe to be part of the Philly-based radio station's (93.3 WMMR) promotional/charity "celebrity cookbook" in the 1980s.  Of course, as "Philly Mag" wrote, "In the late eighties, Bowie contributed a Penne Puttanesca recipe to the WMMR Rock N Roll Celebrity Cookbook. Well he did, though he wasn’t that precise with the measurements."

Indeed, I myself wanted to try to copy his recipe (despite the typo in the title), but when I looked at the instructions he was far from precise.  Much like the artist himself, it seems like even his cooking methods go on more on intuition and feeling rather than exact science and analysis (which, to someone like me who prefers to be precise in everything I do, this is somewhat exasperating at best and frustrating at worst).

Although, I can't help but wonder if Bowie, being Bowie, picked this recipe exactly because of its rather salacious (and supposed) origins.  According to "Serious Eats", "'Puttanesca' literally translates to "in the style of prostitutes," supposedly because the pungent aromas of garlic, anchovies, capers, and olives tossed with pasta were how Neapolitan prostitutes would lead customers to their doors."

That aside, Bowie's love of Italy and all things Italian in his private life are further cemented by the fact that he picked this particular recipe.  Considering that he married his wife Iman in Florence, he was a huge fan of Italian art, and some of his favourite places to shop in New York were distinctly influenced by Italian immigrants of the past (Dean & Deluca is advertised for its Italian groceries and Bottega Falai is a quaint Italian-style cafe).

I, for one, can't help but agree with Bowie's love of Italian art, culture, and food (indeed, Italy was the only place I've ever travelled to where the food alone made me consider converting citizenship).  Although I can't help but wonder at the use of so many anchovies.