Mostly Plants in a Hurry: One-Pot Pasta with Arugula and Lemon

Lately, work has been similar in sensation to a whirpool caught inside a vortex trapped beneath a swamp. Cooking, let alone cleaning up afterward, starts to seem like an insurmountably effortful undertaking when viewed from the tail end of a 14-hour day.

Enter the one-pot, quick-and-easy dinner menu. It may not result the sort of a swooning state of culinary bliss or eye-catching aesthetic that you would seek when planning a dinner party. But it's tempting enough to remind you that you're hungry, envegetabled* enough to keep you healthy, and most importantly, barely more work than nuking a pre-made, over-processed microwave meal.

Here's one, for next time you're feeling underwater.

 

Ingredients
1 - 1 1/2 cups whole wheat corkscrew pasta
1/3 can chickpeas (optional, but a good way to sneak in a bit more protein)
2-3 handfuls baby arugula
Good quality olive oil
A little Stilton, crumbled (or sub your favorite blue cheese or grated Parmesan)
Meyer lemon
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Boil the pasta in salted water per package directions, until al dente. If you have a smaller pot with a lid that drains, it will boil faster and make draining the pasta that much easier.

Add the chickpeas, then drain with the pasta. Return to pot. Drizzle with olive oil, toss with the arugula, and wait a minute for the arugula to wilt. Stir in the cheese (enough to impart a hint of flavor to each bite). Squeeze lemon liberally, and top with freshly ground black pepper.

Re-energizes 1.

*is too a word.

Pasta with Braised Broccolini and Bacon

This is an easy and delicious dinner for one, or double it for 2-3 people (keep in mind that the time it takes something to brown in a pan will increase when you double a recipe because the ingredients crowd together more...using a wider pan will help with this).

Ingredients (per person)

1 1/2 cups whole wheat fusilli

Olive oil

1 strip Niman Ranch applewood smoked bacon, diced

1 bunch broccolini, cut into bite-sized pieces (or sub broccoli)

2-3 cloves garlic, slivered

1/4 cup chicken or veggie broth

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 oz. Stilton, crumbled

Bring a pot of water to boil for the pasta. Salt the water, then follow package directions to cook the pasta. Drain when al dente, reserving a ladleful of pasta water in case it's needed.

Meanwhile (this part takes about 10-15 minutes), heat a wide pan over medium heat. Saute the bacon for 2-3 minutes and then pour off the excess grease. Add a glug of olive oil and the broccolini, and saute for 1-2 minutes more. Stir in the garlic and a pinch of salt, cover the pan, and cook for 1-2 minutes. Stir, add the broth, and replace the cover, turning the heat down to medium-low. Let simmer for 5 minutes or until the broccolini is tender, stirring once or twice.

Toss everything together, adjusting salt and olive oil to taste, and adding a little pasta water if the mixture is too dry. Sprinkle liberally with black pepper, crumble just a bit of blue cheese over the top, and serve immediately.

Serves 1.

One-Pot Pasta with Fresh Basil

If you're anything like me, there's nothing less motivating than the prospect of cooking lunch for one.

Here's what happens. Somewhere around midday, if I'm working from home, I think of something I'd like to eat. And then I think about the number of pots involved, and the fact that I will be the only one eating...and perhaps most significantly, the only one cleaning up afterward...and that dinner comes after lunch, which will mean even more cleaning. Then, in response to this disheartening realization, one part of my mind earnestly tries to convince the other part that a spoonful of peanut butter is really a very well-balanced meal, if you think about it, because it contains protein and um and uh protein and well anyway there would only be a single utensil to wash afterward. (Inevitably, five minutes after I implement this idea, I'm both hungry and glaring at the stupid spoon sitting expectantly in the sink.)

So the other day, I am in exactly this situation—post-peanut butter, pre-spoon-cleaning—and thinking guiltily of the rampant African blue basil on the balcony that has grown to the size of a small elephant in the moist summer heat. A gangly, adolescent elephant. It was gazing reprovingly at me through the balcony door window.

I thought about how I should prune it, and how I was hungry, and how I needed to stop anthropomorphizing plants. (This last part I may have said aloud to our houseplants, Ellie and Beatrix, who nodded knowingly in the circulating air from the ceiling fan.)

And then, less than twenty minutes later, I was sitting down to this. The ingredients can be prepared while the pasta water is coming to a boil. The water boils quickly, because you can use a small pot. And most magically of all, everything happens in that one small pot—leaving you just one thing to clean up afterward.*

Plus it's like mac and cheese comfort meets homemade pesto gourmet deliciousness.

Ingredients (per person):

1 small to medium clove garlic, unpeeled

A bit more than 1 cup whole wheat fusilli pasta**

A big bunch of fresh basil (say, 2 generous handfuls...you'll want about 1/2 cup chopped)

1-2 oz grated extra sharp cheddar (or sub Parmesan, Asiago, or any full-flavored cheese)

Olive oil

Any other pasta-y ingredients that happen to be languishing in your fridge (optional)***

A scattering of pine nuts (optional)

Salt & freshly ground black pepper 

Bring a pot of water to a boil for the pasta (a 2 quart pot is fine for a single serving). Toss in a 1/2 tsp salt.

While you're waiting for it to boil, wash, dry, and chop up the basil (you want enough for about 1/2 cup chopped), grate the cheese, and assemble any other ingredients.

When the water boils, add the garlic clove and the pasta. Boil for 7 1/2 minutes or follow package directions, until al dente. 1 minute before the pasta is done, fish out the garlic clove, rinse briefly under cold water, peel, and smash or chop.

Drain the pasta (directly from the pot if you can, using the lid, to save yourself the bother of cleaning something else), and replace the pot full of pasta back on the stove. Drizzle with olive oil, stir in the garlic and basil and any other pasta-y ingredients you've decided to add, and let sit one minute to warm through. Add the cheese and pine nuts and stir gently until the cheese melts. Sprinkle with black pepper, and serve.


*And the fork, technically. And a plate, if you're being all formal.

**If you're looking for the best store-bought whole wheat pasta by far, ever, look no further than
Eden Organic Kamut spirals.

***e.g., a spoonful or two of roasted red pepper tapenade, a chopped artichoke heart, a little diced tomato, and/or a scattering of chopped parsley.

Tales of a Noodle Extruder

I'm not going to say for certain one way or the other, but it's a distinct possibility that one sunny day in mid-October, I asked Santa if I could have a noodle extruder for my husband's birthday.

I realize that at this juncture—despite your best intentions to hear me out—certain pressing questions may occur to you, including but not limited to:

(a) Don't people usually ask Santa for presents for Christmas, not birthdays? and
(b) Aren't these people usually under the age of 10? and
(c) Aren't you not under the age of 10? and
(d) Don't we usually focus on gifts for the person actually having the birthday rather than associated household members? and
(e) What on earth is a noodle extruder?

 

Fortunately for you, Santa proceeded to actually get me a noodle extruder for my husband's birthday, which means I can answer (e) with pictures. It doesn't really shed light on (a) through (d), except to point out that my request wasn't nearly as futile as you (and, frankly, I) originally assumed. I'm thinking Santa might be a closet foodie.

According to various online dictionary sources, a noodle extruder is: "Not Found," which is in direct contrast to my own personal experience and suggests that the authors of said dictionaries may not be in particularly good North Pole standing.


Which leaves defining a noodle extruder to me. And, technically, Google. Which would probably do a much better job. But you're here now, so why not stay?





Perhaps unsurprisingly, a noodle extruder's main business is to extrude noodles. You put the pasta dough in the top, turn a crank, bounce up and down once or twice before noticing that you're right in front of the kitchen window and several neighbors are passing by looking in curiously, rearrange your facial features into a solemn and nonchalant "whatever, I'm just here extruding some noodles" expression, and then forget yourself in the next instant as you catch a glimpse of the first homemade fusilli you've ever made just starting to peek out (see bounce-inspiring photo above).

Then you cut the noodles, turn the crank some more, stop suddenly as if struck by a brilliant idea, pull down the shade so you can bounce in peace, and continue on your merry way accumulating an entire cutting board full of endearingly misshapen fusilli. Or macaroni. Or bucatini. Or whatever your favorite shaped pasta happens to be.

Of course, there are still a few tricks to iron out. The multigrain pasta dough recipe we use for our pasta machine ended up a little too tacky to make perfect noodles, which need a bit more structure to stand up without folding in on themselves. And perhaps each noodle shape needs its own tailored dough recipe. We clearly won't know until we've tried every one. And because we are selfless, generous cooks who care first and foremost for the welfare of our readers, we are going to do this. For you. And for Santa. Because we care. Also because the kitchen shade is still down, so no one can see if we're bouncing.

Bucatini, anyone?