[Here’s an earlier version of this dish on NYT Cooking.]
Now add your bread crumbs, either homemade or store-bought. (Panko is a good choice here.) If you like, you can also add a big pinch or two of red-pepper flakes and some grated lemon zest. Lower the heat to medium so the crumbs don’t burn, and toss them around in the pan until they turn one or two shades darker, about 5 minutes more. Scrape them onto a plate, and, after they are cool enough not to burn your tongue, taste and season generously with salt and pepper.
You can fry them as the pasta water is coming to a boil but also earlier in the day or even a week ahead. Keep a jar of them in the fridge, then heat them up in a skillet until you smell the garlic.
Cook a pound of pasta, any shape, in salted water until al dente (usually a minute or two less than the package says). I love to use short, curly noodles, so the nooks catch the crumbs. But long strands like bucatini work, too.
Before draining, dip a mug into the pasta water and save some. Drain the pasta and put it back in the pot. Add a lump of butter, a splash of pasta water, about half a cup of chopped herbs (parsley, chives, dill, mint, basil, or a combination of whatever you’ve got) and the crumbs, tossing well. If the pasta seems unpleasantly dry, splash in some more pasta water or butter or both. Sometimes I’ll also add sautéed onions, mushrooms, peppers or fresh chopped tomato to the pot. But they’re not at all necessary.
Top each serving with a good squeeze of lemon, a drizzle of your best olive oil, a sprinkle of flaky sea salt, and a lot of freshly ground black pepper. And be grateful that stale bread can yield such riches as this.