Cold Garlicky Pasta with Capers and Salsa Verde by Alison Roman

I used to hate leftover pasta. I hated the way the noodles felt mildly rubbery after I reheated them. I didn’t like how they lost some of their flavor, especially when they had sauce on them and the noodles sort of absorbed the sauce. 

And then I became an adult, responsible for cooking my own meals. Which meant I started loving leftovers — even leftover pasta. Make pasta once, eat it two, maybe three times? Sounds good to me. I typically combine my noodles with sauce before storing them in the fridge, but this recipe might change that. 

I confess I didn’t have any plain leftover pasta on hand, so I cooked TJ’s brown rice spaghetti and rinsed it in cold water and a bit of olive oil to give it that *leftovers* effect. While the pasta boiled, I prepared Another Salsa Verde, which includes finely chopped shallot, finely chopped cilantro, lemon juice, olive oil, salt, and black pepper. I threw in some Aleppo pepper as well for good measure. If you have a sharp knife, there’s truly no need to use a food processor here. The time it takes to finely chop the herbs is the same amount of time it takes to clean and put away the food processor, so why not just use your knife. This “salsa verde,” as I mentioned before when I made Alison’s Turmeric Roasted Lamb, is shockingly delicious for how simple the ingredients are. And though there’s no tomatillo or jalapeño to be found, like a real salsa verde, my first instinct was to dip a tortilla chip in it. Somehow, it just works. 

After the pasta had cooled, I heated the sliced garlic in olive oil, and quickly added chopped capers as well. The goal is not to let the garlic get too toasty, but just a hint of brown. Finally, I placed chopped kale in the skillet to let it barely wilt before pouring the entire mixture over the cold pasta. I used up all the salsa verde I made, topping the pasta and tossing it all together with tongs. A squeeze of lemon juice and sprinkle of flaky salt, and we were set. A smattering of flavors perfectly suited for my palate. 

I will say that this pasta alone wasn’t quite enough to leave Jordan and I feeling full, so we cooked two Italian chicken sausages to go on the side. This dish is a little more involved than a typical leftover meal night, but boy is it worth it. 

208 recipes cooked, 17 to go.

Ricotta-Stuffed Shells with Burrata, Mushrooms, and Herbs & Perfect Herby Salad

I put this recipe off for as long as possible. Not because it didn’t sound good, but because it has more dairy than anyone should eat in a single meal. I’m talking heavy cream, ricotta, parmesan, and mozzarella all filling every imaginable nook and cranny of a 2 quart dish. A delicious stomach ache just begging to happen. 

Well I certainly wasn’t going to eat this one alone. We invited two dear friends over, Elli and Christian, to help us eat it and make it. Why not make the Great Dairy Assembly, as I’m now going to call it, a communal activity? 

Before our friends arrived, I went ahead and started the mushrooms roasting in the oven as well as bringing a pot of salted water to a boil for the pasta. Alison recommends a variety of mushrooms, but I just went for the straightforward pre-sliced baby Bella mushroom cartons at TJ’s. I’ve cooked a lot of her mushroom recipes lately, and I was honestly over spending $7 for 5oz. of little shiitakes. 

I scored some gluten free shells on Amazon, Tinkyada Brown Rice Grand Shells. The packaging says to boil the shells for 15-16 minutes for al dente, so that’s what I did. The edges of the shells were very cooked by that point, but the centers were a little tougher, harder. I definitely didn’t cook them perfectly, but once you’ve poured out the pasta water, it’s hard to go back. Oh well. I did as Alison instructed and poured the newly cooked shells onto an oiled baking sheet to help them cool and not stick together. This mostly worked. 

Now for the Great Dairy Assembly. Elli took each shell and filled it with the Great Dairy Mixture, consisting of ricotta, heavy cream, shaved parmesan, salt and pepper. One by one, she placed them in the baking dish while I desperately tried to arrange them without letting them tip over and spill their filling. Which turned out to be very difficult. Despite the rather al dente state of the pasta, the shells wanted desperately to let the cheese run out. We made a valiant effort to keep them all intact, but it sure was messy. With the shells filled and haphazardly arranged, we stuffed torn pieces of a mozzarella ball into whatever crevices we could find. Next, we poured heavy cream over the dish, followed by the roasted mushrooms. We baked the dish as instructed, about 35 minutes in total. 

Meanwhile, Elli and I prepared the herbs and lemon zest for topping the pasta, as well as Alison’s Perfect Herby Salad. We used lots of parsley, tarragon, and chives. For the salad, I threw in a bag of mixed greens. Alison’s perfect salad dressing is exactly how I dress my salads 90% of the time anyway: olive oil, lemon juice, salt, and pepper. It’s truly all I need to enjoy a salad. 

The shells came out bubbling hot and the mushrooms had turned an even richer brown. We topped them with the fresh herb mixture, and yes, more parmesan. The four of us finished off every shell but one, which wasn’t a Minnesota-nice move, I swear — we were just too full to fathom eating one more shell.

206 and 207 recipes cooked, 18 to go.

Whole-Wheat Pasta with Brown-Buttered Mushrooms, Buckwheat, and Egg Yolk by Alison Roman

I don’t have a whole lot to say about this recipe. Pasta with buttery mushrooms and parmesan is a nice, mildly flavored dinner. It’s filling, pairs well with red wine, and makes for nice leftovers. Egg yolk adds a creamy element, balanced by the nutty flavor of buckwheat groats (Alison’s mark on this classic recipe). Gluten free noodles work just as well here. 

In lieu of a full essay, here’s a haiku: 

Sometimes I don’t have 

Much to say about cheesy 

Rigatoni pasta

193 recipes cooked, 32 to go.

Tiny Creamy Pasta with Black Pepper and Pecorino by Alison Roman

I really enjoy tiny kitchen things. Tiny forks for eating grapes, tiny spoons for eating ice cream, tiny knives for cutting fancy cheese, tiny cups for juice, tiny plates for biscuits, and tiny bowls for everything! (I have four of them and affectionately call them my ‘mini bowls’ in a very particular voice intonation). 

So of course I was giddy when I saw a recipe for tiny pasta! Now, GF tiny pasta is hard to find. The best I could do were these tiny pasta shells by Jovial, which let me say, were delicious. I couldn’t tell they were GF - they held their structure, toasted nicely in the pot at the beginning, and their texture was like authentic pasta, no mushiness or mealiness to be found. 

I made this warm, wintery meal for my mother and sister who came to visit me in Chicago. It was a perfect weekend together, full of Christmas-y activities, including wearing matching pajamas. After spending much of the day walking around in the cold, our final evening consisted of this tiny pasta in my apartment with the heater on blast. 

It’s a simple and surprisingly creamy endeavor. In my Dutch oven, I toasted sliced garlic (from two extraordinarily large cloves!). Soon after, the pasta joins and the goal is to toast the shells in the garlicky oil so they develop a slightly nutty flavor. Once I could smell the toasting pasta, I added salt, lots of black pepper, a cup of finely grated Parmesan (this works if you don’t have pecorino) and several cups of water. The water needs to simmer for about 22 minutes, until fully absorbed and reduced to a creamy, cheesy sauce. Alison instructs us to stir frequently, which encourages the pasta to release its starch, thickening up the sauce and turning the water an opaque white. 

I plated (or should I say bowled?) the pasta and topped it with chopped chives and more black pepper. On most days, I would have chosen to add the raw egg yolk like Alison, but on this day, I just wasn’t in the mood. I served the pasta alongside Alison’s Raw Broccoli Salad with Shallots and Peanuts — a vegetable dish that completely surprised me. That one’s coming up next. 

This pasta is like a sophisticated, slightly more complicated mac and cheese, and it still only takes 25 minutes. Let’s just say I won’t be making regular mac and cheese again any time soon.

185 recipes cooked, 40 to go.

Butter Beans, Tangy Mushrooms, Baked Pasta with Artichokes and Cheese, and Margaret

This is a Margaret Winchell Appreciation Post. 

Margaret is one of the dearest friends I have ever known. She’s one of the few people I can talk on the phone with for hours and forget how long it’s been. Her phone calls are like menthol when you have a bad cold. They clear your head, open up your chest, and lead you to hope that you’ll feel better very soon. 

Margaret is brilliant. Not in a tongue and cheek way. She’s actually brilliant, especially when it comes to music, teaching, cooking, baking, musical theater, leadership, and multi-tasking. Her brilliance can sometimes intimidate others when they first meet her. But after spending time with Margaret, you realize she uses her brilliance to draw others in. 

Margaret, as I just mentioned, is a phenomenal, intuition-driven cook, with instincts so sharp, they could pierce a stale loaf of bread like a tip of a Global knife. It’s her passion for food and hospitality that turned me on to cooking as well. We became real friends after college, right at the time that I was learning to cook myself. She showed me the way. She took me under her wing and had me cook alongside her in preparation for our weekly dinners with Amy, and then usually at some point over the weekends, too. We did a lot of cooking together those days. Margaret also introduced me to New York Times Cooking, which revolutionized what I cook. 

Margaret visited me last weekend, along with her grad school pal, Evan. A most delightful duo. I went into my suburban office on Friday for work, and took the 4:57pm train home. I walked through the door to find my dearest friend Margaret already through two of Alison’s recipes, and half way through a third. This spoke volumes to me. I could almost cry. When this project felt close to impossible, far out of reach from my energy coffers, Margaret stood in the gap, and darn well filled it. 

I can claim essentially no credit for cooking these three recipes, and that’s okay. I’ll let my friend serve me in this way. I did, however, eat all three dishes, and talked to Margaret at length about their preparation. So in lieu of describing a cooking process, I’ll offer here just a few thoughts and takeaways about each one: 

Vinegar-Marinated Butter Beans: 

• Something was UP with these beans. I had on hand a can of Eden Organic Butter Beans that had not expired, and were, you know, supposedly organic. But the best word to describe the final dish is “bitter.” We mused over this conundrum. Vinegar is acidic, but it shouldn’t taste bitter. Garlic can be bitter if you leave the green tips that sometimes sprout out the tops, but Margaret didn’t do this. What we’re left with are the beans. Something must be wrong with the beans. This dish has potential if you don’t have weird beans. It even keeps leftovers for up to two weeks, which I would normally do. But alas, we tossed our bitter beans. 

Tangy-Roasted Mushrooms: 

• Mushrooms, a good variety of them, are expensive, but worth it, IMO. 

• Mushrooms don’t shrink much when you roast them. They just get silkier in texture. 

• Thinly sliced onions add some fun bits of crunch here. 

• I would serve this at many a gathering. 

Baked Pasta with Artichokes and Too Much Cheese:

• Alison absolutely nails the flavor here. Perfect balance of salty, sour (from the artichokes) and creamy (from all that cheese). Pro tip: the flavor gets a glow-up when you add a few tangy-roasted mushrooms on the side. 

• We are floored that Alison doesn’t mention any options for ready-to-bake noodles. This feels like an obvious miss for the many people who don’t want to deal with the labor of parboiling noodles before assembling the dish. We simply refused to parboil, and so put our ready-to-bake noodles straight into the casserole. The top layer of noodles sure stayed tough and became like noodle chips. Not the worst outcome, but certainly not the most optimal. 

• In our humble, yet knowledgeable opinions, we don’t love the lasagna noodle choice. We believe in using a penne or rigatoni. We want to avoid the noodle chip effect.

171, 172, 173 recipes cooked, 52 to go.