Pass The Pepper, Please!
- andreasachs1
- Nov 13
- 6 min read
By Bonnie Fishman / San Francisco Bay Area


If there is one spice that I can’t live without, it’s black pepper. Fresh ground black pepper. Fresh ground coarse black pepper. None of that wimpy stuff that comes out of a shaker at your local restaurant. Truth be told, (and this is rather embarrassing), I carry a small pepper mill in my purse when I go out to eat, coarse ground, of course! When I travel abroad and rent an Airbnb, I pack a spice kit because most dwellings don’t have a stocked pantry. The first thing to go into my suitcase is my pepper mill.
My earliest memory of really tasting fresh ground black pepper was during my years in the mid-‘70s as kitchen manager of [Win] Schuler’s Restaurant in Marshall, Mich. It was fine dining, good basic food with an English bent: Slow-roasted prime rib, steaks, chops, Dover sole. You get the idea.
One day, the general manager, a buttoned-up Southern gentleman, showed me a very simple dessert. He took a martini glass, filled it with ripe blueberries, a pinch of sugar, and sprinkled on some Grand Marnier (a French orange liqueur). Then he shocked me: he took out a pepper mill and topped it with cracked black peppercorns. Peppercorns on fruit? Was he crazy? No, he was not because it was delicious!

I had a telling experience when I was just beginning my culinary training in 1975 at the Cordon Bleu in London. Ten students would make the same recipe in the same kitchen, yet we would end up with ten different results. One day, we made a minestrone soup. The instructors went from student to student, making the same comment: “Not enough salt and pepper.” When they approached my bowl, I began to palpitate. These teachers were NOT above humiliating you if something wasn’t executed properly.
(I learned this the hard way when my mayonnaise separated (the oil broke away from the eggs), and they shouted to everyone: “Look at Bonnie’s curdled mess!” I’ll never forget the shame of it all.) No reason to fret, though, when they tried my soup. The seasoning was “spot on!”
When I later taught cooking classes for 30 years back in Michigan, it always amazed me when many of my students watched me put black pepper in a dish. They would say “Oh, so much!” or “I don’t like spicy!” Actually, the addition of pepper doesn’t mean the food is going to be hot. Pepper enhances the flavor of your dish, as does salt. Certainly, an overdose of the spice will make it hot. Leaving it out completely is a mistake, in my opinion.
There are records that peppercorns were consumed by humans as far back as 1500 BC. In fact, black pepper is mentioned in the Bible many times. It was first grown in India and spread to Southeast Asia. Green, white, and black peppercorns are from the same plant, Piper nigrum. Surprisingly, pink peppercorns are not from this species at all. They grow on large trees from the Schinus molle species. Cashews are also a member of this family.
The most common black peppercorns, Tellicherry and Malabar. are grown in India. Some Tellicherry is left on the vine longer, hence, becoming larger and more earthy. These are prized for their flavor. Vietnam, however, is the leading producer of peppercorns based on sheer volume. The plants love a hot, humid climate. Sichuan peppercorns are not from the pepper plant. They are the outer husks of the fruit of the prickly ash tree, a member of the citrus family. Sichuan sometimes cause your mouth to tingle. I personally find them too weird because of that.
A few days ago, I invited my friend, Jessy Irwin, over because she is very well-schooled in all things peppercorn. She has traveled extensively around the world (six continents), collecting food ideas and spices along the way.

She brought over a tasting for us. All of the peppercorns were whole. I used my Italian meat pounder to crush them on a cutting board. You could, of course, use your own pepper mill or a mortar and pestle. We had a bowl of great quality Moroccan olive oil, bread, and crackers. First, we dipped the bread into the oil, then into the crushed peppers, one at a time. Try it. It made me appreciate pepper all the more.
We began with the green peppercorns. They were the easiest to crush. Their flavor was almost grassy and citrus-like. Next were the white ones. These are actually black peppercorns with the outer husk removed. The taste was almost smoky. You get a true sense of the flavor of pepper, not just spiciness. They crush fairly easily too.



Then to the black ones. These were the hottest and hardest to crush. Mixed peppercorns–green, white, and black with the addition of pink–had the most diverse character. I could see them as a finishing seasoning on a mixed green salad.
Choosing a recipe this time was quite easy. What better way to celebrate black pepper than the classic Roman Cacio e Pepe (translation: cheese and pepper.) When my family traveled to Italy in June 2011, we stopped a few days in Rome. One cannot leave that city without trying Cacio e Pepe. How could a dish be so delicious with just three ingredients: pasta, grated cheese, and crushed black peppercorns? It was, indeed, heavenly.
Notes about the recipe: First, use a fine quality bucatini pasta from Italy. Bucatini is a thick spaghetti with a hole running through the center. If you can’t find it, use regular spaghetti. Second, use a block of high quality Pecorino Romano cheese. Grate it on the small star side of a box grater. The smaller the better, otherwise it won’t melt into the pasta well. Have heated bowls available.
One of the tricks in making Cacio e Pepe is to make sure that the cheese is blended into the pasta. If the pasta water is too hot, it can cause it to clump together. If the water is too cool, the whole dish will not be quite hot enough to serve. It’s a delicate balance; hence, the whole recipe should be made as quickly as possible.
Don’t be afraid to go off script and add different ingredients. One obvious option is chopped garlic. I would sauté it in a little olive oil before adding the hot pasta to the pan. Other possibilities are defrosted frozen peas or fresh chopped herbs of your choosing. If you use either peas or herbs, add them to the pasta when you begin adding hot water.
Cacio e Pepe
Yield: 6 servings

1 lb. bucatini pasta or thick spaghetti
4 oz. high quality grated Pecorino Romano cheese, very finely grated
1 Tbs. whole black peppercorns, fresh ground coarse
In a 4-quart saucepan or Dutch oven, bring 3 quarts of water to a boil, adding 1 Tbs. of salt. Cook the pasta according to the box instructions. (Note: I break the pasta in half for easy mixing). Have the grated cheese and cracked black pepper ready.
Drain the pasta through a strainer over a bowl. Reserve 1 1/2 cups pasta water. Return the pasta to the pot, turning off the heat. Add about 1/3 cup of pasta water into the pot. While stirring, add 1/3 of the cheese, 2 tsp. of black pepper and a splash of cooking water. Stir vigorously.
Add another splash of the water and another 1/3 of the cheese. Continue stirring. Add more water to achieve desired consistency. You want the pasta to look satiny and creamy. Season with salt and additional black pepper if needed.
Mound the pasta into each of 6 heated bowls. Pass the remaining grated cheese and cracked pepper separately.







Bonnie Fishman attended the Cordon Bleu Cookery School in London. Later, she owned and operated Bonnie’s Patisserie in Southfield, Mich. and Bonnie’s Kitchen and Catering in Bloomfield Hills, Mich. She has taught cooking for over 35 years and created hundreds of recipes. She is now living in Northern California.
I love pasta, cheese and pepper so this recipe sounds devine!! Also your "simple" dessert from the wonderful Win Schulers restaurant!! Thanks friend!
It's great to get such superb food history along with recipes. Unfortunately for me, although I love peppers, I'm not a cheese-lover. I'll have to await the next essay for a recipe to follow..