Summer pasta is about imprecision.
It's about throwing flavors and textures together, and then eagerly slurping them out of a bowl while trying not to splatter sauce on your shirt.
In my case, summer pasta is also usually something I enjoy alone. Something along the lines of spouseless eating, I suppose. Maybe slightly more refined in that it doesn’t come completely from a can or a cardboard box, yet slightly more shameful because it’s mostly about a lustful encounter between you, a shapely bowl of steaming dough and maybe a few love apples. Not that I wouldn’t be willing to share my summer pasta. The craving simply tends to hit when no one else is around, and I find that I’m suddenly hungry for lunch, or maybe dinner.
When just such a craving hit today, I was challenged by the fact that currently, I’m clean out of fresh vegetables. A summertime crime, I know! And, since I’m about to head out of town for a few days, I didn’t want to buy anything new just yet. So I was left to rummage through the pantry and the fridge, and I ended up with this:
1 cup of uncooked rotini
1 can of diced tomatoes (sigh… I know...)
About 1/3 can of butter beans, leftover
About 1/8 of a white or sweet onion, diced from that time you prepared it for a couple of hot dogs
3 medium – large cloves of garlic
1 good glug of extra virgin olive oil
A few shy pours of heavy cream, maybe 1- 1 1/2 tbsp or so
A few generous shakes of parmesan cheese
A dash of “Italian seasoning” (also, sigh)
Salt/pepper to taste
A few basil leaves from the window-sill
The directions, are, not surprisingly... imprecise.
1. While the water for the pasta comes to a boil, pour out some of the liquid from the can of tomatoes and then begin heating them in a skillet over low-medium heat.
2. Press or mince garlic cloves and add to the tomatoes, along with some salt and pepper, your shameless dash of dried “Italian seasoning” and that generous glug of olive oil.
3. After a minute or three, add butter beans and onions.
4. Once the water has come to a boil, obviously, throw in your favorite pasta shape. At some point while it cooks, you may shyly add the heavy cream to the sauce that is now bubbling happily on the stovetop. (Or boldly, if you feel so moved.) Also, snip the basil leaves right into the mix, stirring a few more times. And you should probably throw in some of that parmesan, too. To taste, of course.
5. When the pasta’s done, drain it, and add it to the sauce. Toss it all together, slop some into your favorite eating-for-one bowl, and get to it. Feel free to top it off with a few final dashes of salt, pepper, and parmesan, and maybe a bit more basil.
(Note: in retrospect, I think I would have enjoyed this imprecise summer pasta even more if I had allowed it to cool to room temperature before eating. I would advocate for anyone else to do the same, unless you enjoy sweating while you eat.)
Happy sweat-free (and indulgence-full) eating!
