I’m back in Roma, which is strange in so many ways, the weirdest and most wonderful being that I know now that my Italian has improved infinitely since I was here last. They understand me! And dining alone is less boring when you can understand what the ragazzi at the next table are complaining about.

I landed finally at my little bed and breakfast in the Jewish Ghetto , and after a nice chat with Simone (”my inglese is horribile!”) killed some of the jet lag with a nap and long shower, then first real order of business: coffee. Pronto.

At the bar I met clearly retired and bored Enzo, who was terribly excited by the fact that I was not only traveling da sola but could also chat (sort of with him) and his handsome young barista friend. No one seems to understand why on earth I’d learn Italian, but they love it. Good start.

On to food: a late-evening snack of some thin pizza from Forno di Campo de’Fiori, hacked from a counter-wide slab, folded, and delivered into my grateful hands in about 4 seconds and 2 euros.

Restored, I wandered over to the Forum for a short evening visit (in the waning light, devoid of people, it looks like a stage set – completely unreal), realizing along the way that I was thinking in Italian. Short phrases, but still.

For dinner I headed near Piazza Farnese, landing at Da Sergio, on a quiet back street, with an outside table. Success: some solid cacio e pepe (why are Italian basics always so much better than anything I can do at home?), beef with rucola, un quarto di vino rosso, and an espresso – cheap, easy, and all I needed to get on with a late-evening stroll along the river. And now I collapse.

Not that I have any idea, but this seems like a reasonable question. Besides worrying about backne, awkward conversation, which shoes to wear, and how you greet someone you’ve only “met” electronically (do you shake hands? hug? I’m not kidding), one definitely needs to take comfort in the pre-date food. So rule #2: comfort food.

And yes, you need to eat, particularly if you’re going out for drinks. That’s rule #1.

So what to eat? Don’t want to eat anything too heavy, in case you veer off for snacks at some point, and to ensure you don’t nod off. Anything stinky or gassy, out…for obvious reasons. Rules #3 and 4. Starch might be good, so you don’t get hammered as you nervously burn through your first drink in 5 minutes flat. Well, just don’t do that anyway. Rule #5.

And rule #6: Whatever it is, it shouldn’t require a lot of cleanup, so you can get out of the house and show up on time. (I don’t know about you, but my date would lose points showing up late to a first meeting.) But frankly, you’re probably too distracted to get complicated anyway.

So I’m going with simple and delicious and comforting and aromatic.

A pal brought me a basket of Meyer lemons last week (the first crop from her tree), and I actually have some greens in the house, so I’m making the pasta with lemon, creme fraiche, and arugula from Amanda Hesser’s Cooking for Mr. Latte.

The dish couldn’t be easier: Cook some linguine, toss it in a bowl with a handful of grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, the zest of a couple of the lemons, and a few handfuls of torn arugula. Add a half cup of creme fraiche, some juice from the lemons, and freshly ground pepper. Sprinkle with a few tablespoons of the pasta cooking water, if it’s too thick. That’s it.

I don’t have creme fraiche today, so I’m using my new favorite ingredient: thick and creamy Greek-style Fage yogurt. I’ve been using that stuff lately wherever I’d use sour cream, and sometimes even to thicken a sauce when I’m out of cream…it’s awesome. I suspect the tang here will be lovely.

The date, we’ll see. But don’t forget rule #7: Brush your teeth before you leave.

I’ve been going a little hog-wild on the summer vegetables.

Well, not quite as much as I’d like — I still can’t choke down $5.99 a pound tomatoes, beautiful as they may be. Just a hint of mealy and I’ll feel guilty even looking at my wallet.

But fava beans, totally different story. I’ve enjoyed fava beans for ages partly as one of those delicacies you rarely toy with at home but love to order in little locavore-oriented restaurants along with your farm-raised whatever and a much-deserved glass of wine.

Anyway, I got over the precious factor and fell madly, deeply in love the day we arrived with Erminio for our annual visit to Davide’s fattoria in Panzano, in the Chianti. Yeah, I know, and it gets better. It was a beautiful day, and quiet, with only a few wine tourists arriving for lunch, a light mist over the vineyard (I am not kidding), and I was hungry, nearly salivating in anticipation of Davide’s mom’s grigliata or pappardelle con cinghiale. Or both. God.

Then here comes Mom herself, strolling out of the garden with a cheery ciao! and a basket full of fave, just picked, young, pert, so, so fresh.

Needless to say, we ate them all.

The second time I fell madly in love occurred only a few days later. (You can fall madly in love twice. It was in Italy, for god’s sake!) Dinner at Lino’s, always brilliant. Lino is a joker, but he does not fuck around with the food. I spoke bad Italian with Noriko, who’s been hiding out in Lino’s restaurant for years, learning Italian and very little English, cooking and serving, and refusing to return to her family in Japan.

We finished dinner and were relaxing with the rest of our wine as the last real customers trickled out when Lino sat down with a huge bowl of shelled but unpeeled fresh fava beans, chunks of crystally pecorino (a rare pleasure, as Erminio prefers the fresh and far milder cheeses), and a bottle of unmarked, weeks-old olive oil.

There is no better finish to a meal. I nearly cried.

So the fava beans are sort of near to my heart, and with their short, short season, I can’t help myself when I pass the bean and artichoke people at the market. Yes, they’re still $4.99 a pound, and yep, a pound of favas in their pods equals about four tablespoons of shelled and peeled beans (and yes, preparing them does take an ungodly 20 minutes or so), but I love them.

And I’m worth it.

So tonight, in honor of me, a play (courtesy of Biba Caggiano) on bucatini alla gricia, with bacon in lieu of guanciale, spaghetti in favor of the very difficult to eat gracefully bucatini.

How to make it? Put your water on and shell the beans (a couple of pounds). When you’re done shelling, the water will have boiled, so you can blanch the beans quickly, which will make peeling easier. Pop them out of their skins while the water returns to a boil. Now chop up an onion and a few strips of bacon, then cook ‘em up in that order in some olive oil. At the same time, start cooking your spaghetti.

When your onion is sweet and soft, and your bacon is near-crisp, add the peeled beans, the zest of a lemon (my addition), and lots of black pepper and stir it around for a minute. Add the cooked pasta with a little of its cooking water, toss with a large pile of freshly grated Parmigiano or Pecorino Romano, and you’re done. It doesn’t quite take me back to the farm, but it’ll do for now.

I may not be good for much, but I can still make a sweet pasta dinner while rather drunk.

It’s delicious, and good for you, too — you just have to be lucky enough to find all these goods in your fridge.

Sauté some chopped prosciutto or pancetta in a little olive oil until sort of crisp. Take it out. Add some chopped garlic, a bit of sliced onion, and when that’s soft, some half-moons of zucchini. When less than crisp, add a half cup or so of chicken stock, some pepper, and some salt, depending on how salty your meat is to begin with. Add a small head of radicchio, sliced thin.

Cook up your pasta, and when it’s done, add the pasta with some of its cooking water and a big splash (or three) of balsamic vinegar to your pan. Stir, add freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. (Avoid what I did and keep the cheese over the plate or pan, not countertop.) Eat and go to bed happier than before.

I found this one in Cooking Light years ago. It’s a perfect dinner for spring, or when you’re just really dying for the creamy comfort of mac ‘n’ cheese but feel too much self-loathing to ingest that much fat for dinner. Even better: It requires almost zero effort.

Note: I actually loathe cottage cheese, but it functions brilliantly here.

Pasta with Creamy Basil Sauce and Peas
(adapted from Cooking Light)

2 cloves garlic
1 cup lowfat cottage cheese
2 tbsp plain yogurt or light sour cream
1 tbsp nice olive oil
1 cup basil leaves (or if you do as I do and freeze it in ice trays, 2 or 3 cubes of basil puree)
large handful of freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
salt and pepper
several large handfuls of sugar snap peas (the best!), snow peas, frozen peas, or a mix, trimmed
1 pound short pasta

Set a pot of well-salted water to boil. In a food processor, combine the garlic and cottage cheese and blend until smooth. Add the yogurt, oil, basil, cheese, and salt and pepper to taste, and blend again until smooth. Scrape the mixture into a large bowl.

When your water is boiling, cook the pasta until it’s nearly al dente. Toss in your peas, allow them to cook about a minute, then drain. Add your hot pasta with the peas to your serving bowl, mix well, and eat.

If you don’t make pasta for dinner at least a couple of times a week, you’re an idiot. Or you don’t have a day job.

It’s the only food that can take so many variations, so many sauces, pairs so brilliantly with nearly every food (meat or veg, and that includes potatoes), and can be prepared so quickly.

Nearly every cuisine has an equivalent of a starch with some delicious topping, but pasta is simply my favorite. And since I’m taking Italian classes on Mondays now, and I arrive home late and starving to death, it’s the ideal Monday dinner: fast, easy, Italian, delicious.

You’ve read that you can make a pasta sauce in the time it takes to boil the water. Well, that’s absolutely accurate. Here’s a good one to try when you need something quick and punchy. Vary at will.

Linguine with Sun-Dried Tomatoes

large handful of sun-dried tomatoes (dried, not the ones packed in oil)
2 large cloves of garlic, thinly sliced
a shake or two of chile flakes, or a crushed dried chile
3 medium slicer tomatoes (or a few more plum tomatoes)
olive oil (quarter cup or so)
handful of parsley, chopped
1 lb dried linguine
freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (fresh only)

Set a large pot of water to boil. Now we steal an idea from the brilliant Mark Bittman: Mince half of your sun-dried tomatoes, and cut the others in half so they’re more or less bite-sized but not too hard to fish out of some boiling water.

Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat, then toss in your minced tomatoes, garlic, and chile. Turn the heat to low so the garlic starts to soften but won’t burn. While that’s cooking, dice your fresh tomatoes. When the garlic has turned golden, add the fresh tomatoes to the pan — juice, seeds, and all — and a pinch or two of salt.

When your water comes to a boil, drop in the large pieces of tomato. Let the tomato pieces float around for a couple of minutes, then fish them out and add them to the skillet (that’s the other part of the Bittman technique).

When the water comes back to a boil, salt it heavily, then cook your linguine. When it’s nearly done, save some of the cooking water (in case your fresh tomatoes were dry), then drain the pasta and add it to the skillet, tossing with your now insanely delicious-smelling sauce and a little of the cooking water, if needed, plus the parsley and some Parmigiano-Reggiano.

(I used to forego parsley in many recipes, since I didn’t always have it on hand, but the parsley is really a beautiful touch here, adding both freshness and some lovely contrasting color. Try not to skip it.)

Serves 2–4, depending on how hungry you are.

PS: I would have included a picture, but I decimated the dish almost immediately.