Pasta al Finocchio — The Fennel That Brought Amma’s Potato Roast Back to Me

My birthday — the actual one, April 17th. Amma insists on celebrating twice: once on the Tamil calendar date and once on the "English date." I've explained that they're the same birthday observed in two different calendars, not two separate birthdays, but Amma considers this an opportunity for two meals and is unmoved by logic. Birthday dinner at Amma and Appa's. Just family. Amma made my favorites from childhood: sambar rice (sambar mixed directly into rice, which sounds simple but is actually the pinnacle of South Indian comfort food), her potato roast (small potatoes fried with chili powder and fennel until crispy and dark), and rasam — not any rasam, but the pepper rasam that she made when I was sick as a child, so peppery it cleared your sinuses and your doubts simultaneously. I haven't told Amma about trying to conceive. But she knows something. Mothers know. She looked at me across the table and said, "You look different." "Different how?" "Softer." I don't know what she sees. Maybe the prenatal vitamins are improving my skin. Maybe the trying has changed something in how I carry myself — a readiness, an openness, a looking-forward that wasn't there before. Or maybe Amma just sees what she wants to see, which is a daughter ready to become a mother. Appa gave me a card. Appa has given me a birthday card every year since I was born — always a Hallmark card, always signed with just his name, no message, because Venkatesh Krishnamurthy expresses love through consistency rather than words. Thirty cards in thirty years. I keep them all in a shoebox in the closet. One day I'll count them and confirm what I already know: he has never missed a year. Arvind gave me a gift card to Williams Sonoma, which is the only store he associates with me, and it's not wrong. "For your spice cabinet," he said. "Or whatever weird kitchen thing you want." "It's not weird. It's curated." "Akka, you alphabetize your spices." "That's organization, not weirdness." "It's weirdly organized." I love him. I love all of them. This table, this food, these people who drive me crazy and hold me up. Thirty years of this. Thirty years of sambar and birthday cards and brothers who don't understand spice cabinets. The potato roast was perfect. Crispy, spicy, golden. I ate seven pieces and felt five years old and thirty years old at the same time.

I came home from that birthday dinner still tasting the fennel from Amma’s potato roast — that warm, anise-edged spice that somehow makes fried things feel intentional rather than indulgent. I wasn’t ready to let go of it, so a few nights later I made this Pasta al Finocchio, which leans into fennel the same way Amma does: unabashedly, as the whole point. It won’t replicate her kitchen — nothing will — but it gave me a quiet Tuesday version of that same feeling: simple, aromatic, and just enough.

Pasta al Finocchio

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 12 oz linguine or spaghetti
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 large fennel bulb, halved, cored, and thinly sliced (fronds reserved)
• 1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
• 1/2 teaspoon fennel seeds
• 1/2 cup dry white wine
• 1/2 cup pasta cooking water, reserved
• 1/4 cup freshly grated Pecorino Romano or Parmesan, plus more for serving
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley

Instructions

1. Salt the pasta water. Bring a large pot of generously salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Before draining, reserve 1/2 cup of the starchy cooking water. Drain and set aside.
2. Soften the fennel and onion. While the pasta cooks, heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the sliced fennel, onion, and a pinch of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 12–15 minutes until softened and lightly golden at the edges.
3. Bloom the aromatics. Add the garlic, red pepper flakes, and fennel seeds to the skillet. Stir and cook for 1–2 minutes until fragrant.
4. Deglaze with wine. Pour in the white wine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Let it simmer for 3–4 minutes until mostly reduced.
5. Bring it together. Add the drained pasta to the skillet along with the reserved pasta cooking water, starting with 1/4 cup and adding more as needed to loosen the sauce. Toss well over medium-low heat for 1–2 minutes until the pasta is coated and glossy.
6. Finish and serve. Remove from heat. Stir in the grated cheese and parsley. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. Plate immediately, garnished with reserved fennel fronds and extra cheese.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 13g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 68g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 310mg