Broccoli Pesto Pasta with Green Olives

Seven weeks to Busan. The trip is now a thing with deliverables — a packing list, a phrase list, a reading list, a gift list. I have been curating gifts for Jisoo, for her husband (whose name is Jun-ho, and who I refer to in my head as abeoji though I have not called him that in letters yet), for Jihoon, Eunji, and a handful of Jisoo's neighbors who Jisoo has told me they want to meet "the American daughter." I am an American daughter. I am also a Korean daughter. I have two halves, hyphenated by adoption, and the Busan trip is going to be the first time in my life I have been the Korean half more than the American half for two whole weeks. I am aware that I will fail at parts of it. I am aware that I will succeed at other parts. I am trying to accept both.

Eunji has been sending me photos of her apartment in Busan — where I will stay for two days, she said, because Jisoo's apartment is small and Eunji has a guest room. This is generous. I told her so. She wrote back: "Unnie. We are sisters. You will stay with me. We will make japchae together." I read that sentence on the bus to work. I cried in the aisle seat. A man across from me pretended not to notice. Thank you, anonymous Seattle bus commuter.

Jihoon wrote this week that he and his girlfriend (her name is Bora, it turns out, and she works at a bookstore) will come down from Seoul for a weekend during my visit. He said, "I want Bora to meet you. She has been asking." I do not know Bora. Bora wants to meet me. The ripples of the reunion are widening and I am trying to just let them. I wrote back: "Yes. I want to meet her. Bring her anytime."

Karen had a neutral week again. Rosa is now four mornings a week instead of three. Karen has stopped protesting. She likes Rosa. She calls her "my second daughter," which David has gently asked her not to say because it is confusing to Karen's friends who know she only has one daughter, and Karen has said, "Fine. My friend." David is negotiating Karen back into the world of people who do not need their cousins explained. I love them both.

Dr. Yoon: we talked about the Busan trip. The practical things. How I will care for myself there. The jet lag. The emotional load. She said, "Take breaks from the intensity. Walk somewhere alone. Eat somewhere alone. Give your nervous system an off-duty hour every day." I wrote this down. I will do it.

Work: another busy week. I coded almost not at all. I managed. I led. I sighed. I went to a one-on-one with my skip-level that was nominally about career growth and that left me feeling the opposite of grown. I came home that night and I said to James, "I am going to leave Amazon before the end of the year." He set down his fork. He said, "Okay." I said, "Not now. By Q4. I am giving myself until Q4 to decide." He said, "Okay." He said, "I'm going to support you." I said, "I know."

I wrote it in my notebook: "By Q4." That is the first time I have put a date on it. The date changes nothing today. The date changes everything eventually.

The recipe this week is Taiwanese beef noodle soup, made by James, for me, on Saturday night, after the conversation about leaving Amazon. He made the broth in the morning. He simmered it for six hours. He did not mention the conversation while he cooked. He just cooked. He set a bowl in front of me at 7 PM. He said, "I love you." I said, "I love you." We ate.

The week I wrote “By Q4” in my notebook, I needed something that felt like momentum without being heavy — something spring-colored and fast, for the nights when there’s too much happening inside your head to also be standing over a stove for hours. Eunji’s promise that we’d make japchae together has me thinking about noodles and about what it means to cook with someone you’re still learning how to love, and this broccoli pesto pasta — quick, green, slightly briny from the olives — is the version I can make alone in Seattle while I count down the seven weeks. It’s a holding-on meal and a looking-forward meal at the same time.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

12 oz linguine or spaghetti
3 cups broccoli florets, cut small
1/2 cup pitted green olives, roughly sliced
2 cups fresh basil leaves, packed
1/3 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted
2 cloves garlic
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus 1 tablespoon for finishing
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
Salt and black pepper to taste
1/4 cup reserved pasta water

Instructions

Salt and boil. Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. In the last 3 minutes of cooking, add the broccoli florets directly to the pot. Reserve 1/4 cup pasta water before draining.
Make the pesto. While pasta cooks, combine basil, pine nuts, garlic, Parmesan, and lemon juice in a food processor. Pulse until roughly combined. With the motor running, stream in the 1/3 cup olive oil until the pesto is smooth. Season with salt and pepper.
Combine. Drain pasta and broccoli and return to the pot over low heat. Add the pesto and toss to coat, adding reserved pasta water a splash at a time until the sauce clings and is silky. The broccoli will break down slightly — that’s exactly what you want.
Finish and plate. Fold in the sliced green olives and the remaining tablespoon of olive oil. Taste and adjust salt. Add red pepper flakes if using. Divide among bowls and top with extra Parmesan and a crack of black pepper.

Nutrition (per serving)

Broccoli Pesto Pasta with Green Olives — Something Green and Forward-Looking