Baked Rigatoni Pasta

Someone read it. The steak post. I checked — I said I wasn't going to check and then I checked, because apparently I'm the kind of person who lies to himself about things that don't matter. Seven views. Seven people, or maybe one person seven times, or maybe five bots and two accidents. I don't know how the internet works and I don't care to learn. But seven. That's not zero. Zero is what I expected and seven is what I got and I sat in the common room looking at the number and felt something I can't name. Not pride. Something adjacent to pride but smaller and more fragile, like a match that hasn't decided if it's going to catch or go out.

I started writing the chili post. Dutch oven chili — the real kind, not the canned stuff, not the competition stuff with chocolate and cinnamon and whatever else people put in chili when they're trying to win a trophy instead of feed a person. This is Dad's chili. Or close to it. Ground beef, onion, garlic, canned tomatoes, dried chiles, kidney beans, cumin. You brown the meat first — hot pan, don't crowd it, let it get color. The color is the flavor. If your meat is gray you've steamed it and you've ruined it and you should start over. Then onions until they're soft, garlic until it smells right, chiles and cumin and tomatoes and beans and enough water to cover. Lid on. Low heat. Two hours minimum. Three is better. Four is best. The chili doesn't care about your schedule. The chili takes what it takes.

I made it Thursday in the shared kitchen. Nobody uses the kitchen at 2300 because nobody else is awake at 2300, or if they are, they're dealing with it differently than I am. The smell filled the hallway — beef and cumin and dried chiles — and it smelled like September in Montana, like the kitchen at home after roundup when Mom would have a pot on the stove big enough to feed the neighbors who came to help. I ate two bowls standing at the counter. The third bowl I put in the fridge. The fourth bowl the guy from Bragg — his name is Espinoza, I learned this week, Marcus Espinoza — found the next morning and ate cold, which is a legitimate way to eat chili and I won't argue otherwise.

Called Mom Sunday. She said the garden's done for the year. First frost came early. She said Dad's been quiet, which is like saying water's been wet, but I know what she means. There's quiet and there's quiet. I know the difference. I grew up in the difference.

The chili lasted four bowls and one night’s worth of sleep that actually stuck. Writing down Dad’s recipe properly — the real version, not the version I reconstructed from memory while standing over a pot at 2300 — made me want to get the rest of it down too, the other things I make when I need a kitchen to feel like mine. Baked rigatoni is one of those. It uses the same Dutch oven, the same low-and-slow logic, and it has the same quality the chili has: it feeds more people than you planned for, which out here turns out to be exactly the right amount.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr 5 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 lb rigatoni pasta
1 lb ground beef (80/20)
1 medium yellow onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
1 can (15 oz) diced tomatoes, drained
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for pasta water
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 1/2 cups whole-milk ricotta cheese
2 cups shredded mozzarella, divided
1/2 cup grated Parmesan, divided
1 tablespoon olive oil

Instructions

Boil the pasta. Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Cook rigatoni 2 minutes less than package directions — it will finish in the oven. Drain and set aside.
Brown the beef. Heat olive oil in a Dutch oven or large oven-safe pot over medium-high heat. Add ground beef in a single layer; do not crowd it. Let it develop color on the bottom before breaking it apart — 3 to 4 minutes. Gray meat means steamed meat. Drain excess fat.
Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Add onion and cook until soft, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute. Stir in tomato paste and cook 1 minute more. Add crushed tomatoes, diced tomatoes, oregano, basil, red pepper flakes, salt, and pepper. Simmer uncovered for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Combine. Remove pot from heat. Fold drained rigatoni into the sauce until evenly coated. Dollop ricotta across the top in spoonfuls — don’t stir it in. Scatter 1 1/2 cups mozzarella and 1/4 cup Parmesan over everything.
Bake. Preheat oven to 375°F. Cover the Dutch oven with its lid or foil and bake for 20 minutes. Uncover, top with remaining mozzarella and Parmesan, and bake another 15 minutes until the cheese is bubbling and beginning to brown at the edges.
Rest and serve. Let the pot sit 5 minutes before serving. It holds heat well and reheats cold the next morning if someone gets to it first.

Nutrition (per serving)

Baked Rigatoni Pasta — The Other Pot I Keep Coming Back To