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Black Beans and Pasta — The Pot That Held Us Together

Illinois is on lockdown. Governor Pritzker issued the stay-at-home order and we are in it now. I have been doing remote special ed for four days and I can already tell you: it is not special ed. It is a phone call where a child who needs physical proximity and routine and the sensory stability of a classroom is instead in a house where everything is strange and their parents are scared and I am a voice on a phone. I ended Thursday in tears, which I am not embarrassed about. I called my co-teacher and she was crying too. We agreed to keep trying.

Ryan cannot stay home. Firefighters are essential workers. He goes in for his 24-hour shifts and comes back and showers immediately and we do not hug until he has changed. This is the new choreography of our apartment. I leave dry clothes by the bathroom door. It feels absurd and careful and necessary all at once. He says the calls are relentless. He says it quietly and does not say more than that.

I have been cooking the way other people are apparently cleaning — obsessively, with focus, because it gives me something real to do with my hands. This week: a giant pot of pasta e fagioli that I have been eating for days. One can of cannellini beans, one can of crushed tomatoes, half a box of small pasta, some rosemary. Under four dollars for six servings. I am also doing daily blog posts now. People are home and they need to eat and they have no idea where to start. If I can help with that part, I should.

Patty called at 7:15 and also at 2 PM, which is a new record. She is working from home because Richards HS is closed. She said she just needed to hear my voice and I said Mom you called this morning and she said I know. I did not push back on the 2 PM call after that. Some things are just the thing you need.

This is the kind of recipe I reach for when I need to feel useful and grounded at the same time — when my hands need something real to do and my budget needs to stretch and I just cannot think too hard about what’s for dinner. Black beans and pasta is not glamorous, but it is solid and warm and honest, and right now that’s exactly what I need it to be.

Black Beans and Pasta

Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 8 oz small pasta (ditalini, elbow, or small shells)
  • 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 small yellow onion, diced
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1 teaspoon cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • 2 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
  • Fresh parsley or scallions for garnish (optional)

Instructions

  1. Sauté the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook for 4–5 minutes until softened. Add garlic and cook for another 30 seconds until fragrant.
  2. Add spices and tomatoes. Stir in cumin, smoked paprika, and oregano. Pour in the diced tomatoes with their juices and stir to combine, scraping up any bits from the bottom of the pot.
  3. Add beans and broth. Add the black beans and vegetable broth. Bring to a gentle boil over medium-high heat.
  4. Cook the pasta. Add the dry pasta directly to the pot. Reduce heat to medium and cook uncovered, stirring occasionally, for 10–12 minutes or until pasta is tender and has absorbed most of the liquid. Add a splash of water or broth if it thickens too much.
  5. Season and serve. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh parsley or sliced scallions if you have them.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 270 | Protein: 11g | Fat: 3g | Carbs: 49g | Fiber: 8g | Sodium: 310mg

Amanda Kowalczyk
About the cook who shared this
Amanda Kowalczyk
Week 208 of Amanda’s 30-year story · Chicago, Illinois
Amanda is a special ed teacher in Chicago, a mom of three-year-old twins, and a woman who lost her best friend to a fentanyl overdose at twenty-one. She cooks on a budget that would make a Whole Foods cashier weep — feeding a family of four for under seventy-five dollars a week — because she believes good food doesn't require a fancy kitchen or a fancy paycheck. She finished Babcia Rose's gołąbki after the funeral because that's what Babcia would have wanted. That's who Amanda is.

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