My friend Jackie gets incensed by people who confuse broccolini and broccoli rabe. She’s from New York, but now lives in a part of Southern California where broccoli rabe is not widely available. At the local supermarkets, she often sees broccolini misidentified as broccoli rabe. “Which enrages me,” she says. “Broccoli rabe isn’t even in the cruciferous family. It’s in the turnip family.”

She is absolutely correct. In Italian, broccoli rabe is cime di rapa, or literally “turnip tops.”

Many of us from the northeastern corridor of the U.S., where broccoli rabe is common and treasured, feel the same way. Around Philadelphia, where I live, broccoli rabe is an essential ingredient in our great local sandwich: Philly-style roast pork with sharp provolone, peppers…and broccoli rabe. (The roast pork sandwich with provolone and broccoli rabe may be superior to the more famous, but overrated, Philly cheesesteak. Yes, I said it.)

Nutty, slightly bitter, pungent—broccoli rabe brings something unique to a dish that few greens can. And beyond elevating pork sandwiches, broccoli rabe is the key ingredient in the classic pasta dish of Puglia: orecchiette con cime di rapa.

Of all the Italian pasta shapes, I find the humble “little ears” to be among the most elegant and versatile. Orecchiette reach their apogee, though, when tossed with broccoli rabe, along with good olive oil, a handful of garlic, a generous shake of red pepper flakes, and grated pecorino. Simplicity and perfection.

I also want simplicity in my wine pairing with this dish, and with the big flavor of broccoli rabe, I steer toward a happy, bright Puglian red made from Primitivo.

Over the years, Primitivo has suffered from the same kind of name confusion as broccoli rabe. In fact, for years, no one really knew Primitivo’s origins. The earliest mention of the grape in Puglia was in 1799 by a local priest. Almost two centuries later, a DNA profiling confirmed that it was the same grape as Zinfandel grown in California. (The confusion surrounding Zinfandel is the subject of this extremely over-the-top, pro-American promo video for the Paso Robles Zinfandel Festival from a few years back, which you may find ironic or amusing.)

Zinfandel in California had always been a mystery. Some had a hunch that the grape had a Croatian origin, because it takes its name from a black grape was mistakenly identified as tzinifándli. In the 1820s, when the Habsburg Imperial nursery first shipped tzinifándli vines to a nursery in New York, it was wildly mislabeled as “Black Zinfardel (sic) of Hungary.” The mistaken name spread, and eventually became Zinfandel.

In 2001, through a University of California Davis research project called Zinquest, the true Croatian identity of Zinfandel/Primitivo was finally verified to be the hard-to-pronounce Crljenak Kaštelanski. It was also known long before that as Tribidrag.

Yes, grape names are confusing! Let’s just stick to Primitivo!

Primitivo from Puglia is very different from the big, jammy, high-alcohol, Zinfandel you often find in California. In fact, when it comes to Puglia, I have always preferred Primitivo over Negroamaro, which I often find to be dense and jammy. I especially love Primitivo that’s lighter bodied, without a lot of oak, and full of energy and verve.

I recently found a banger in 2021 Filippo Cassano "Calx" Puglia Primitivo—organically grown, native-yeast fermentation, no oak, and low alcohol. Calx is the best sort of Primitivo, fresh and lively, zingy cherry and juicy plum, taut structure, and just fun to drink. Similarly fresh, lively, and fruity is 2022 A Mano Primitivo Puglia, bursting with fresh, juicy blackberry and balanced by a savory backbone. You can usually find both of these wines for under $20, and they punch way above their weight. For me, Calx and A Mano are the perfect spring red wines to pair with a meatless dish such as orecchiette with broccoli rabe.

I also enjoyed 2021 Pasqua Desire Lush & Zin, which—though a little fruitier—still brought a lively, fresh vibe. On its label, Pasqua is obviously being cheeky about the Primitivo-Zinfandel connection. 2019 Miali Single Vineyard Primitivo Puglia, while a little riper, rounder, and aged, also fits the bill.

In any case, when you open one of these Puglian wines with your orecchiette con cime di rapa, just don’t call them Zinfandel. I won’t fly into a rage like my friend Jackie will over broccolini, but I still might curse you, sotto voce, in Italian.

Orecchiette con Cime de Rapa

• 3 pounds broccoli rabe, trimmed and rinsed
• 2-3 cloves garlic, minced
• ¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
• ½ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (or more)
• 16 ounces dry orecchiette
• Pecorino cheese

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Cook the broccoli rabe until tender, around 3 to 5 minutes. Remove broccoli rabe with slotted spoon or tongs, allowing the water to continue simmering. Place broccoli rabe in a colander and run under cold water, then squeeze out as much water as possible. Chop roughly, then set aside.

Return water to a boil, then add the orecchiette. Cook per instructions on the box, stirring occasionally.

As the pasta boils, heat 2 tablespoons oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the garlic and red pepper flakes, cook for a minute or two, taking care not to burn. Remove from heat until pasta is finished.

Drain pasta and add to skillet, along with the broccoli rabe, add salt and the rest of the oil, then toss. Serve immediately, sprinkling with grated pecorino and more red pepper flakes.