The index card of fatherly wisdom

Mom has so much advice to share with you all, the family joke is that she is compiling a thick tome for you to consult in every imaginable situation you may encounter in life. But after one of Mom's recent entries, Dylan opined that "the Book of Motherly Wisdom needs some serious editing." My own volume of fatherly wisdom would be much slimmer. In fact, all of the golden nuggets of information I've ever conveyed to any of you before you went off somewhere (college, Gov school, Brevard, etc.) can fit comfortably, in extremely large type, with plenty of room to spare, on a small index card:

A former colleague who now works with the Virginia Division of Legislative Services recently relayed to me a story one of her coworkers told her about a run-in she'd had with a particularly obnoxious member of the General Assembly. The GA member wanted her to do something that was against regulations, and when she told him she wouldn't do it, he told her she had no idea how to do her job and that she wasn't even fit to wash his car. So now if the GA member gets on the same elevator that my friend's coworker is on, she immediately steps off. And she's apparently not alone in this maneuver, as the GA member effectively clears elevators all over the capitol because he's made so many enemies. This struck me as such a perfect, tangible standard for evaluating whether you're being good that I developed the following corollary to Rule #1 (don't worry, it fits on the back of your index card):

[November 20, 2022 update: The new and improved Second Edition of the Index Card of Fatherly Wisdom™ is out!]

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This may be Mom's favorite pasta. Mom says she could eat the sauteed leeks even without the pasta, which she proved at dinner when, after finishing her own gluten-free pasta, she picked through our deliciously wheat-y pasta for more leek bits. I guess there's no entry concerning the etiquette of eating other people's food in the Book of Motherly Wisdom.

Pasta with Leeks Sauteed in White Wine

Adapted from Pasta e Verdura (1996) by Jack Bishop

Time: 29 minutes

4 medium leeks (~2 pounds)
¼ cup (53 grams) extra-virgin olive oil, plus a drizzle
½ cup (120 grams) dry white wine
1 teaspoon kosher salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon minced fresh parsley leaves, more to taste
1 to 2 tablespoons fine sea salt
1 pound penne or other short, tubular shape
⅓ cup (~20 grams) freshly grated Parmesan cheese, more for serving

    1. Bring 4 quarts of water to a roiling boil in a large stockpot.
    2. While the water is heating up, cut off the dark green tops of the leeks. Cut a thin slice from the root end, then halve each leek lengthwise. Wash the leeks very well (they're often filled with dirt and grit). Place the leeks cut side down on a cutting board, and slice them crosswise into very thin half moons.
    3. Heat the ¼ cup oil in a large skillet or saucier over medium heat. Add the leeks and sauté until wilted, about 10 minutes. Reduce the heat if the leeks start browning.
    4. Stir in the wine, kosher salt, and pepper, and simmer gently over moderate heat until the sauce thickens a bit, about 5 minutes. Don't let all of the liquid evaporate. Stir in the parsley.
    5. About 5 minutes before adding the wine to the sauce, add the 1 to 2 tablespoons fine sea salt to the boiling water and stir until dissolved. Add the pasta and stir a few times during the first minute or two to keep it from sticking. well. Cook until al dente, then drain the pasta, reserving a mugful of the cooking water.
    6. Stir ¼ cup (a 2-ounce ladleful) of the pasta water into the sauce. Toss the hot pasta with the sauce, ⅓ cup Parmesan, and a drizzle of fresh oil. Mix well, adjusting the consistency with more pasta water as needed. Taste. Serve promptly, passing additional Parmesan at the table. Serves 4.