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Bow Tie Pasta — The Recipe Teddy Made When the Whole House Came Alive

The first week of the visit. Fourteen years of Teddy on this farm — from infant visits when Sarah and Jim were young parents, to kindergarten-age visits when he ran everywhere he could, to the awkward middle-school years when he didn't know quite what to do with himself here, to this: a thirteen-year-old who walked into my kitchen on Saturday morning and said: okay, can we start the pasta? We started the pasta.

He made pasta for six people — the full family plus Carol, who came for the weekend and stayed for dinner on Saturday and Sunday. We made it in batches, the dough divided, Teddy running the pasta machine while I kept the flour on the counter and reminded him to let it dry before cutting. He did everything right. He was careful in the way he is careful when something matters to him. When it came out well — the pasta genuinely excellent, Carol asking for a second plate — he was quiet about it in the way that genuine pride is quiet.

Carol and Sarah stayed up late on Saturday talking. I went to bed and listened to the murmur of it from upstairs. Two women who love each other, who have shared decades of meals in this house, finding their way back to something after a year of screens and distance. That sound — women talking late in the kitchen — is a sound I associate with this house being alive. I slept well.

Finn's birthday dinner coming up later this week. Teddy has the menu planned. He's been carrying it in his head since June.

Teddy made this pasta for six people that Saturday, and watching him work — careful, focused, genuinely proud when Carol asked for seconds — reminded me that some recipes aren’t just dinner, they’re the thing a person carries forward into their life. Bow tie pasta is a forgiving shape, sturdy enough to hold a good sauce and pretty enough to feel like an occasion, which is exactly what that night was. If you’ve got someone in your kitchen who’s ready to learn, this is the recipe to start with.

Bow Tie Pasta

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 12 oz bow tie pasta (farfalle)
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
  • 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes
  • 1/2 cup heavy cream
  • 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
  • 1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, torn
  • 1 teaspoon salt, plus more for pasta water
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/4 cup reserved pasta cooking water

Instructions

  1. Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Add the bow tie pasta and cook according to package directions until al dente, about 10–12 minutes. Before draining, reserve 1/4 cup of the starchy cooking water. Drain and set aside.
  2. Build the sauce. While pasta cooks, heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the minced garlic and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring frequently, for about 1 minute until fragrant but not browned.
  3. Add tomatoes. Pour in the diced tomatoes with their juices. Stir to combine and let simmer for 5–6 minutes, until the sauce reduces slightly and deepens in color.
  4. Finish with cream. Reduce heat to medium-low. Stir in the heavy cream and let the sauce simmer gently for 2–3 minutes until it thickens slightly. Season with salt and black pepper.
  5. Combine and toss. Add the drained pasta to the skillet. Toss well to coat, adding reserved pasta water a splash at a time if the sauce needs loosening. Stir in the Parmesan and most of the basil.
  6. Serve. Transfer to a large serving bowl or plate directly onto individual plates. Top with remaining basil and extra Parmesan. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 380 | Protein: 12g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 52g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 480mg

Walter Bergstrom
About the cook who shared this
Walter Bergstrom
Week 267 of Walter’s 30-year story · Burlington, Vermont
Walt is a seventy-three-year-old retired high school history teacher from Burlington, Vermont — a Vietnam veteran, a widower, and a grandfather of five who cooks New England comfort food in the same kitchen where his wife Margaret made bread every Saturday for forty years. He lost Margaret to a stroke in 2021, and now he bakes her bread himself, not because he's good at it but because the smell fills the house and for an hour she's still there.

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