Artichoke — Lemon Pasta -- The Night the Effort Was Already Done

September 14th, 2018. Two years since Jess Papalardo died. I left school at three-twenty and drove south on the Stevenson and then west on 294 to Worth, Illinois, to Holy Sepulchre Cemetery. I had the sunflowers in the backseat, the same tall yellow ones from the farmers market, wrapped in the paper from the stand. The drive takes about forty-five minutes from the school. I do it without thinking about the route anymore. My hands know the way.

I sat in the grass and told her about Room 108. About T. and the book, and Rosa's transitions, and the morning circle that runs smoothly now after four weeks. About the enchiladas I made this week and the arroz con leche recipe Claudia left under my door. She would have liked Claudia. She would have liked Pilsen. She liked places with music and color and people who fed each other. She grew up on the South Side; she knew what this kind of neighborhood meant.

I said: two years. Two years is different from one year. One year was still shock inside of grief. Two years is grief inside of a life I have built. I said: I am so glad you were my best friend. I said: I am so angry you are not here. I said both of these things in the same sentence without contradiction because they are both absolutely true and they live together without resolving. I put the sunflowers against the stone and sat for another ten minutes and then drove home.

Made a simple pasta with good olive oil and fresh tomatoes that night — the last of the summer tomatoes from the Saturday market, halved and tossed raw with warm pasta and olive oil and basil and salt. No cooking the tomatoes. The pasta water warms them slightly, that is all. Under two dollars. Ate it at the kitchen table by myself in the evening quiet. Some nights need something simple that takes almost no effort. Some nights the effort is in the driving and the sitting and the saying it. The pasta takes care of the rest.

The pasta I made that night was its own kind of ritual — nothing that asked anything of me, nothing that required me to think. This Artichoke & Lemon Pasta lives in the same spirit: bright and simple, warm from the pasta water alone, built on olive oil and things that are already good without much help. It’s the recipe I come back to when the hard work of a day has already been done somewhere else — when the effort was in the driving, the sitting, the saying it out loud — and dinner just needs to carry you the rest of the way.

Artichoke & Lemon Pasta

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 12 oz linguine or spaghetti
• 1 can (14 oz) artichoke hearts, drained and quartered
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 3 tablespoons good olive oil, plus more for finishing
• Zest and juice of 1 large lemon
• 1/4 cup grated Parmesan, plus more to serve
• 1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
• 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 1/2 cup reserved pasta water

Instructions

1. Salt the water. Bring a large pot of generously salted water to a boil. Cook the pasta according to package directions until al dente. Before draining, scoop out 1/2 cup of the pasta water and set aside.
2. Warm the oil. While the pasta cooks, heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the minced garlic and red pepper flakes if using. Cook, stirring, for about 1 minute until fragrant — don’t let the garlic brown.
3. Add the artichokes. Add the quartered artichoke hearts to the skillet. Toss to coat in the garlic oil and cook for 2–3 minutes, until warmed through and just starting to get a little color at the edges.
4. Toss the pasta. Add the drained pasta directly to the skillet. Pour in the lemon juice and about 1/4 cup of the reserved pasta water. Toss everything together over low heat, adding more pasta water a splash at a time until the sauce is loose and glossy and coats the noodles.
5. Finish and season. Remove from heat. Add the lemon zest, Parmesan, and parsley. Toss again. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. Drizzle with a little more olive oil if you like.
6. Serve. Divide into bowls. Top with extra Parmesan and parsley. Eat at the kitchen table. Let it be quiet if it needs to be quiet.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 390 | Protein: 13g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 60g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 430mg