Why This Shape, These Vegetables, and Two Cured Meats Make Perfect Sense

This is a pasta I return to often. It’s quick to prepare, and the flavour is layered yet satisfying. You’ve got the sweetness of peas and zucchine, a bit of salt and fat from pancetta, the gentle richness of mortadella and some fresh mint zing. The balance comes from heat, freshness, and restraint — especially with cured meats.

Using both pancetta and mortadella isn’t overdoing it. They do different jobs. Pancetta gives you a base — savoury and crisp. Mortadella brings in softness and a mild, nutty aroma that works especially well with vegetables and mint.

I use Rombi n°121 here because the shape holds this kind of sauce perfectly. The wide surface grips the peas, catches the pancetta, and gives every bite texture. Other pasta shapes slip too much or get lost. This one gets it right.

It’s a clean, spring-friendly dish that comes together in one pan while the water boils. Nothing wasted, everything used properly.

Ingredients (for 4 to 5 hungry people, or 3 who eat like I do)

• Extra virgin olive oil — enough to coat the pan like a silk shirt
• 80g pancetta, diced small (this is your flavour anchor)
• 1 large red onion, chopped fine
• 2 medium zucchine, sliced into coins, doused in a tiny drizzle of fresh lemon juice.
• 250g peas (fresh or frozen)
• Salt and freshly cracked black pepper
• Splash of hot water (if needed, for the peas)
• 100g mortadella, cubed (with pistachio? Even better)
• 300–400g Rombi pasta (De Cecco n°121 — trust me, this shape makes the dish)
• Fresh mint leaves, torn by hand, not chopped
• Grated Pecorino or Parmigiano (optional — go easy)

How I Make It (with care, not clock-watching)

1. I put on a big pot of water and salt it like I mean it — like the Adriatic on a calm day.
2. In a wide pan, I heat the olive oil and start with the pancetta. Let it sizzle gently. No rushing. I want it golden and giving off that scent that says, “Someone here knows how to eat.”
3. I add the chopped red onion, cook it low and slow until it softens, turns sweet, and catches a little colour. This is the base — don’t mess it up.
4. Then in go the zucchini with a few drops of lemon juice. I let them kiss the bottom of the pan until they’re just golden. After that, the peas — straight in. Frozen? No problem. A splash of hot water helps them bloom.
5. Now the mortadella — I fold it in gently. No frying. Just enough heat to wake it up and let the perfume rise. It’s like velvet in your mouth if you treat it right.
6. Meanwhile, I cook the rombi pasta — 10 minutes al dente. Stir once or twice to keep them from sticking together like nosy cousins.
7. I drain the pasta (saving a bit of the water, always), and toss it into the pan with everything. I stir gently, adding a spoon or two of that pasta water to make everything come together like a smooth conversation.
8. Last thing — I tear in the fresh mint, grind some black pepper, and — maybe — a little grated pecorino. But not too much. I want the vegetables and meats to have their moment.

What I Pour With This (and Why)

This dish needs wine with freshness, lift, and enough backbone to balance the pancetta. Nothing heavy, nothing oaky. We’re making spring, not stew.

• Falanghina del Sannio (Campania)
  Light, citrusy, with white flowers and minerality. Matches mortadella like old friends.
  Tip: Look for unoaked, slightly mineral versions with a touch of oily body.
• Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi
  Bright, almondy, a little saline. It grabs onto the peas and mint like magic.
  Avoid riserva or oak-aged ones — too serious for this playful dish.
• Dry frizzante from Emilia-Romagna
  Something bubbly and honest, like a dry Lambrusco bianco or Pignoletto Frizzante.
  Cleans the palate, flatters the mortadella.
  Just make sure it says “secco” — no sweet stuff here.