Cherry Tomato Pasta with Avocado Sauce

The first tomato of the season is always a religious experience, and this year was no exception. Cherokee Purple, still warm from the sun, the skin split along the top like it was too full of itself to stay contained. I sliced it thick, laid it on white bread with mayonnaise and salt, and ate it standing at the kitchen counter with the juice running down my wrist. For about forty-five seconds, the whole world was tomato. Nothing else existed. Just the sweetness and the acid and the warmth and the bread and the knowledge that summer is here and the garden is giving and I am alive to receive it.

Earl would have said, "That's the best one yet." He said that every year about the first tomato. Every year it was true.

Memorial Day weekend — I went to Bonaventure. Michael's grave first. Yellow roses. I told him about Kayla and Devon's house, about how Kayla is the head nurse everyone relies on, about how she carries his face and his courage in equal measure. Then Mama and Daddy — flowers, a prayer, the acknowledgment that they gave me everything and nothing was wasted. Then Earl. I brought his favorite — a container of shrimp and grits, still warm, covered in foil. I set it on the bench beside his headstone and I said, "Happy Memorial Day, baby. The shrimp are perfect. The squirrels will confirm." I sat with him for an hour. I told him about the book. About the publisher. About the garden. About Amara saying "Gah-gah" like it's a complete sentence. He would have loved that. He would have loved all of it.

Now go on and feed somebody.

After a weekend like that one — standing at Bonaventure with flowers and warm foil containers, talking to the people I love most in the world — I came home wanting to cook something that felt like summer saying yes. The first Cherokee Purple was already gone, eaten standing at the counter the way it deserved to be, but there were cherry tomatoes coming in fast, and I had two ripe avocados on the counter that weren’t going to wait. This Cherry Tomato Pasta with Avocado Sauce is the kind of dish that meets you where you are: quick enough for a tired evening, bright enough to feel like a celebration, and built around tomatoes the way every good summer meal should be.

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

Ingredients

12 oz spaghetti or linguine
2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved
2 ripe avocados, pitted and peeled
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 1 large lemon)
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, plus more for garnish
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for pasta water
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
1/4 cup reserved pasta water
Shaved or grated Parmesan cheese, for serving

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of generously salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Before draining, reserve 1/2 cup of pasta water. Drain and set aside.
Blister the tomatoes. While pasta cooks, heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the cherry tomatoes and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5—7 minutes until they begin to blister and release their juices. Season with a pinch of salt and remove from heat.
Make the avocado sauce. In a blender or food processor, combine avocados, garlic, lemon juice, basil, remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil, salt, and black pepper. Blend until smooth and creamy. Add 1/4 cup of the reserved pasta water and blend again until silky. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Combine. Add the drained pasta to the skillet with the blistered tomatoes over low heat. Pour the avocado sauce over the pasta and toss gently to coat, adding more reserved pasta water a tablespoon at a time if needed to loosen the sauce.
Serve. Divide among bowls. Top with fresh basil, Parmesan, and red pepper flakes if using. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cherry Tomato Pasta with Avocado Sauce — Summer in Every Bite, the Way the Garden Intended