Angel Hair Pasta with Lobster

June. The month that Paul and I were married. Thirty-one years on June 18. The church. The marzipan cake. Pappa crying. Paul's smudged glasses. The cabin on the North Shore that cost $45 a night. Thirty-one years. The anniversary is in two weeks and I've been thinking about what to do. Not a celebration — you don't celebrate an anniversary when the person you married is in a wheelchair with a feeding tube and a communication device. But you acknowledge it. You mark it. You say: this happened. We did this. It's still happening. Paul typed on Monday: "What do you want for our anniversary?" The machine said it. I said, "You. Just you." He typed: "You have me. Pick something else." I said, "Cake. I want Mamma's princess cake." He typed: "Done." He can't make cake. He can't make anything. But I called Mamma and she said, "I'll make the cake." And she will. Eighty-nine years old, she'll make a Swedish princess cake — the sponge layers, the vanilla cream, the raspberry jam, the marzipan dome, the green tinted shell — because her son-in-law's wife wants a cake for her anniversary and Ingrid Johansson does not refuse requests for cake. The garden is thriving. The tomatoes are tall. The peas are climbing. The dill is rioting. I spend two hours every morning in the garden while Karen is with Paul, and the gardening has become my meditation, my therapy, my way of being in the world of growing things when the rest of my world is in the world of declining things. I made a June dinner: fresh pasta with peas and asparagus and cream. The same spring pasta I made two years ago, before the diagnosis, before everything. The same ingredients, the same kitchen, the same table. Paul had it pureed. I had it whole. Two versions. Same meal. Same love. He typed after dinner: "Make this for our anniversary dinner." I said, "I was planning to make something fancier." He typed: "This IS fancy. This is us." He's right. The spring pasta is us — simple, fresh, from the garden, made with the hands that have been making dinner for thirty-one years. June. Wedding month. Garden month. The month of long light and growing things and the anniversary that approaches like a prayer — not a request but an acknowledgment. We were married. We are married. The vows said "in sickness and in health" and the vows are being tested and the vows are holding. Thirty-one years. The vows hold.

Paul said the spring pasta was fancy enough — and he was right, because it came from the garden and from the hands that have been cooking for thirty-one years. But when I thought about what to share here, I wanted something that carried that same spirit: delicate, celebratory, made with ingredients that feel like a gift. Angel hair pasta with lobster is the kind of dish that says “this moment matters” without needing to shout it — light enough for a June evening, special enough for a anniversary table, and simple enough that the food steps back and lets the people at the table be the point.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 2

Ingredients

8 oz angel hair pasta
2 lobster tails (6–8 oz each), shells split
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
2 tablespoons olive oil
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Lemon wedges, for serving

Instructions

Prepare the lobster. Using kitchen shears, cut through the top of each lobster tail shell lengthwise. Gently pull the meat up over the shell, leaving it attached at the base. Season lightly with salt and pepper.
Sear the lobster. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, melt 1 tablespoon butter with 1 tablespoon olive oil. Place lobster tails meat-side down and cook 3–4 minutes until golden. Flip and cook another 2–3 minutes until just opaque. Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook angel hair pasta according to package directions until al dente, about 3–4 minutes. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water before draining.
Build the sauce. In the same skillet over medium heat, add remaining olive oil and 1 tablespoon butter. Add garlic and red pepper flakes; cook 1–2 minutes until fragrant and just golden. Add cherry tomatoes and cook 2 minutes until beginning to soften. Pour in white wine and simmer until reduced by half, about 3 minutes. Stir in heavy cream and lemon juice; simmer 2–3 minutes until slightly thickened.
Finish and toss. Add drained pasta to the skillet. Toss gently with tongs, adding reserved pasta water a splash at a time if needed to loosen. Stir in remaining 1 tablespoon butter and half the parsley. Taste and adjust salt and pepper.
Serve. Divide pasta between two warm bowls or plates. Nestle one lobster tail over each portion. Scatter remaining parsley on top and serve immediately with lemon wedges alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Angel Hair Pasta with Lobster — The Dinner That Said Everything We Couldn’t