Tag Archives: Cooking

Penne Rosa

I had Penne Rosa at Noodles and Company once, and it was then I realized I had to make something similar as quickly as possible. Two months later (yes, that was “as quickly as possible”), I stormed into the grocery store, demanded their entire stock of basil, and made a delicious dish. How similar it is to Noodles and Company, well, I just can’t say: let me remind you that I only had it once, didn’t take notes, and then let two months pass me by. But regardless, it’s fresh and perfect and I loved every bite. I mean, white wine and cream? As I’ve said before and I’ll say again until I draw my final breath, you can’t go wrong with those two things. Oh, and there’s garlic. I’m sorry, excuse me while I step to the side and faint dead away. I love that stuff.

Ingredients

1 lb penne pasta

4 TBS oil, divided

6 cloves garlic, minced

1 bunch asparagus, chopped

8 oz sliced mushrooms

1 c heavy whipping cream

1-28 oz can diced tomatoes

1/2 tsp red pepper flakes

3/4 c white wine

1 tsp brown sugar

3 cups fresh basil leaves, torn

Salt and pepper to taste

Parmesan, for sprinkling

Put your pasta water on to boil. I used mini penne, which boasted a super quick cooking time. I bought it mostly because it was cute, but I also thought it would mingle with the sauce better than its larger counterpart. Here’s the whole happy group together:

Roughly chop your asparagus on the diagonal (after removing the tough ends). This way of cutting it adds surface area to the pieces, which means more spots hit the pan/oil, which in turn adds flavor. Or maybe I’m just making that up.

Heat 2 TBS oil in a pan or pot. When hot, add the asparagus and fry for about 3 minutes. Add salt and pepper.

The asparagus will be bright green and crunchy after those 3 minutes–it’s the right time to remove it.

You don’t want to keep cooking it since it will later rejoin the sauce. If you cook it for too long up front, we’re talking a green mushy mess later.

You’d better have your garlic chopped by now–in this dish, I like it slivered instead of minced. The cooking time takes the edge off of the garlicky flavor, so encountering a larger chunk or slice is actually quite a pleasant experience.

Heat the remaining oil in the same pot over medium high heat. Add the garlic and mushrooms, and cook for 5 minutes, stirring often so that the garlic doesn’t burn. 

Add salt, pepper, and the red pepper flakes while it’s cooking.

The brown bits. Oh, the brown bits. I would lick them out of the pot if it didn’t mean cooking my own tongue in the process.

Add the wine, and cook for about 3 minutes, scraping the bottom to make sure all those brown bits get incorporated, loved, and assimilated.

Now, add the tomatoes.

Cook over high heat for 15 minutes, until reduced by half. You don’t want a watery sauce, so let it boil away aggressively. Add the brown sugar somewhere along the line.

Your (salted) pasta water should boil somewhere along the way . . . so get that goin’. Just look at those precious little noodles!

Now, add the cream to your sauce. Cook for another 5 minutes over medium high, letting the sauce thicken.

Please try to avoid drinking the whole concoction at this point. My mamma taught me that patience is a virtue . . . but one little spoonful can’t hurt, right? Mamma?

During the last minute of cooking, add the asparagus back in. A couple of my basil leaves snuck in too, but for the rest of you, hold those back for one more minute.

Now, take the sauce off the heat–trust me–and add the basil. I added half the basil at this point, and half after it was served into individual bowls. You don’t want to basil to cook and wilt–it’s best in this dish when it’s fresh, green, and as crunchy as it can be.

Once your pasta is cooked and drained, dump it into the pot with the sauce and mix it all together. You know what’s happening in that pot? One big lovefest.

Serve and sprinkle with parmesan, or parmesan shavings if you want to feel fancy. 

Click here for printer-friendly version: Penne Rosa

The chicken and the axe resume their fall schedule

As we enter into the fall, one of the things I’m most excited about is cooking. I have seriously neglected the kitchen this summer–what with weddings, more weddings, family vacation, and weekends away, I just haven’t had enough of a routine to do my usual meal planning. I’ve cooked a few things here and there, but nothing like last fall and spring when I was making 3-4 new dishes per week.

When our schedule is more “normal” (which it will be starting Monday, with yoga, Bible study, and school for my husband all starting back up), about once a week I sit down with a stack of cookbooks and printed out PW and TK recipes, and float away on the wings on foodie daydreaming. I persue, salivate, and fantasize to my heart’s content as I sip my coffee. I think the last time I did that was maybe early June? I can’t wait to start again–it’s one of my favorite parts of the week.

 At some point, of course, I have to make decisions and commit to only a few recipes out of the thousand mouth-watering options, so I make a list by days of the week and hit myself repeatedly in the side of the head with a cookbook (it’s the only way I can be forced to pick my favorites). The list goes something like this:

M- Angel hair pasta with bacon and zucchini

T- Thai spicy noodles

W- leftovers/forage

Th- n/a (Bible study)

F- Sausage and peppers with rice

Sat- Lentil stew and rice

Sun- leftovers/forage

After I’ve decided what I want to make, I grab a pen and paper, go through each recipe and make a grocery list of what I need. The meal plan gets posted on the fridge so that I can reference it. I would undoubtedly forget what I was doing otherwise and end up wandering around the kitchen with a dazed expression saying “What . . . ? . . . what . . . ? . . . um, what? . . . ?” I need a plan, Stan. I need a diagram, Stanislam. I need a list, Stromquist.

It’s so satisfying.

Plus, if I plan carefully that means I only have to grocery shop once per week. And though I don’t loathe the grocery shopping experience, it’s definitely not something I want to engage in every other day. 

I usually have at least one or two days designated “leftovers/forage.” This is where our leftovers tracking device comes into play, which lets us know at a glance what’s in the fridge–I’ll be talking about that soon, in a separate post. If there are no leftovers to be had, this can end up being an Arroz a la Cubana night, or an eggs-in-a-basket night. Or I may, um, occasionally you understand, get involved in a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Every so often, I still experience relapse from my childhood addiction to it–I wonder if they offer programs for this sort of problem? Thursday, being community group night, we won’t have time to go home between work/school and the Bible study, so we will probably just grab a sandwich at Potbelly’s on Belmont Ave like we did last year . . . or some Panang Curry from Siam Noodle and Rice, the best Thai restaurant in Chicago (sayeth I).

One thing that I love about this season of our lives (with my husband in school and me at work all day) is that unfailingly, though I’m the head chef, my husband is in the kitchen with me during the whole cooking process. He washes dishes as I go, chops garlic, picks up the onion skins that floated off the counter, etc. We call this arrangement “the chicken and the axe.” See, I’m the axe: the master executor of the project. The one wielding the power. The one in charge. He is the chicken, whose head is cut off: brainlessly running around. Dashing here, dashing there, getting things done, but not thinking too much. It’s all about swift, automatic obedience in the kitchen when you’re the chicken. It’s a great arrangement–like having a sous-chef, I imagine, but one who you can occasionally swat on the butt as you cross each other going from sink to fridge to stove. Someone who will laugh as you do that goofy dance in your house slippers and sing opera at the top of your lungs instead of shunning you for being such a ridiculous human being.

Now the caveat to this whole thing weekly meal-planning thing is, of course, the dreaded grocery budget. Because sometimes, when I end up making scallops, steak, and salmon in one week, the weekly grocery financial guideline gets shot up all to heck. Sometimes I just neeeeed salmon and scallops. I don’t waaaannna pick between the two! Once, as my shocked eyes examined the receipt the lovely cashier had just handed me, I realized I had accidentally spent double the allotted amount. To this day I don’t quite understand how that happened, though I blame the temptations of rampant food photography, which in case you haven’t noticed is splayed all over the internet (not that I have anything to do with that den of decadence). Once we realize we have grossly overspent, if we are feeling like good citizens (which we usually are), we will agree to make it stretch for two weeks. That can be quite a fun challenge. Really, I’m not being sarcastic–it’s like a little game. We go into the stash of cans and frozen meat my grandfather likes to send our way about once a year, and figure out how to make it work. This can involve rice, a can of corn, and a frozen pork shoulder. Or pancakes from a box, a can of lima beans, and a duck. You never know what wild combinations can come forth from the storehouses that Big Jake has lovingly provided. And you can always slap an egg on something and call it a meal–that’s one of my favorite tricks. I’m gearing myself up for this since the evil meal plan I devised on Wednesday will undoubtedly cause many surprises at the cash register this weekend. Many, many surprises.

Dang cyberspace and its temptations.

Are there any other meal planners out there? Or are you more creative–can you look at a random assortment of ingredients in the fridge and whip up something amazing with no forethought?