Caramelized Zucchini Pasta

Lily turns four on Wednesday, August 2. Four. She is enormous and loud and opinions have opinions. She requested a horse-themed birthday party, which I delivered: horse plates, horse napkins, a horse cake (easier than dinosaurs — brown frosting, a mane piped in darker brown, candy eyes), and a special surprise: I arranged a pony ride at a farm outside Eagle. Lily sat on a small paint pony named Clover and her face was the face of a child experiencing divine rapture. She didn't want to get off. She was physically removed from the pony by the farm owner, a patient woman named Jan who has clearly done this before. Lily cried for ten minutes. Then she ate cake. Then she asked when she could go back. "When you're older," I said, which is my answer for everything Lily wants that I cannot currently afford or manage, and which she accepts with the grudging patience of someone who knows "older" is coming even if it's not coming fast enough.

Scott called to wish Lily happy birthday. She talked to him for ninety seconds, primarily about Clover the pony, then handed the phone back to me. He said, "How's she doing?" I said, "Fine." He said, "Good." The conversation lasted three minutes. This is what we've become: three-minute phone calls about children, logistics without feeling, the bare minimum of co-parenting. It's functional. It's devastating. But it works, and working is what matters now.

The garden is growing. The tomato plants have doubled in size. The basil is bushy and fragrant. The zucchini is doing that thing zucchini does where one day there's nothing and the next day there are seven zucchinis the size of baseball bats and you're leaving them on neighbors' porches like a vegetable vigilante. I gave Carol three zucchinis and she made zucchini bread and brought a loaf back, which is the perfect circle of garden neighborliness.

I'm settling into a rhythm as a single mom. It's not easy — nothing about raising two children alone on a vet tech's salary while recovering from cancer is easy — but it's mine. The rhythm is mine. The choices are mine. What we eat for dinner is my decision. When we go to bed is my decision. Whether the TV stays on or off is my decision. I have sole custody of the remote control and the thermostat and the grocery list, and the freedom of those small things — the things that were always negotiations with Scott — is intoxicating.

I made Lily's requested birthday dinner: "sketti" (spaghetti with meat sauce, served with garlic bread and absolutely nothing green, per the birthday girl's specifications). She ate it with her hands, sauce on her face, noodles dangling from her chin, grinning. Mason ate his with a fork and corrected Lily's pronunciation: "It's spa-GHETT-i, Lily." Lily said, "SKETTI," louder, and that was the end of the debate, because in this house the birthday person wins all arguments, and Lily was wielding her birthday authority with the skill of a tiny dictator.

After Lily’s birthday dinner of “sketti” (absolutely nothing green, per her royal decree), I was left with a counter full of garden zucchini and a craving for something that was just for me. This caramelized zucchini pasta is what I make when the kids are in bed and I’ve got a glass of wine and the remote control and nobody to negotiate with — the zucchini goes golden and sweet in the pan, the garlic hits the oil, and for twenty minutes the kitchen smells like something a person with her life together would cook. It’s my rhythm now, and I’m keeping it.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

12 oz spaghetti or linguine
3 medium zucchini (about 1 1/2 lbs), halved lengthwise and sliced into 1/4-inch half-moons
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup fresh basil, torn
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1/2 cup reserved pasta water

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook spaghetti according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water before draining.
Caramelize the zucchini. While the pasta cooks, heat 2 tablespoons olive oil and 1 tablespoon butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the zucchini slices in a single layer (work in batches if needed — crowding prevents browning). Season with salt and pepper. Cook without stirring for 3-4 minutes until deep golden on the bottom, then flip and cook another 2-3 minutes. Transfer to a plate.
Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium-low. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil and 2 tablespoons butter to the skillet. Add the sliced garlic and red pepper flakes and cook for 1-2 minutes, stirring frequently, until the garlic is fragrant and just golden. Do not let it burn.
Combine everything. Add the drained pasta to the skillet and toss to coat in the garlic butter. Add the caramelized zucchini, Parmesan, and lemon juice. Toss gently, adding reserved pasta water a few tablespoons at a time until the sauce is silky and coats the noodles.
Finish and serve. Remove from heat. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. Top with torn basil and extra Parmesan. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Caramelized Zucchini Pasta — When the Garden Gives You Seven Zucchinis and the Birthday Girl Wants Sketti