Creamy Mushroom Pasta

Late June. The solstice passed Tuesday, which means the days are already getting shorter, which I acknowledge and then try not to think about for another month or so. The solstice is not a reason to mourn June — June does not care that it has peaked. June keeps being June for another week and a half. Vermont doesn't apologize for the calendar.

The peas are coming in. First harvest Saturday: a colander full of sugar snaps and shelling peas together, eaten half in the garden standing up (the shelling peas, shelled and eaten immediately, taste like concentrated spring) and the rest brought inside for dinner. I made a simple pasta with the peas — butter, the peas added for the last two minutes, a handful of mint from Helen's herb bed, parmesan grated over the top. Dinner in twenty minutes. This is one of the arguments for the kitchen garden: the moment between harvest and table can be twenty minutes, and the difference between that and the two-week-old pea from the grocery store is the difference between a photograph and the thing itself.

The fireflies have started. This is another June thing: for about three weeks, from late June into July, the field behind the farmhouse fills with fireflies at dusk. Helen and I have been watching them for forty years from the back porch. The first night they appear is always slightly surprising, even though they have appeared every year. You forget, over the winter, that they will come back. They come back. They have always come back.

Frost caught a firefly on Tuesday evening and ate it, which is the wrong approach to fireflies but which I did not feel qualified to criticize. He has his system. I have mine.

That first-harvest pasta I made — butter, peas, mint, parmesan, done in twenty minutes — is the template I return to all summer: something simple enough that the ingredients can speak, something fast enough that you’re eating before the garden smell wears off your hands. This Creamy Mushroom Pasta works the same way. It’s got that same richness that butter and parmesan give you, the same logic of a sauce that comes together while the pasta cooks, the same argument that a good weeknight dinner doesn’t require an occasion. Helen approves. Frost is indifferent, but he’s been distracted by fireflies.

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

Ingredients

12 oz fettuccine or linguine
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 lb cremini or button mushrooms, sliced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for pasta water
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
3/4 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup dry white wine or low-sodium chicken broth
3/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, divided
2 tablespoons fresh parsley or fresh thyme, chopped
1/2 cup reserved pasta cooking water

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Before draining, reserve 1/2 cup of the starchy cooking water. Drain and set aside.
Saute the mushrooms. While pasta cooks, melt butter with olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add mushrooms in a single layer and cook without stirring for 3–4 minutes until they begin to brown. Stir and continue cooking another 3 minutes until most of the moisture has evaporated and the mushrooms are golden.
Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Add garlic, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes; cook 1 minute until fragrant. Pour in the white wine or broth and scrape up any browned bits from the pan. Let it reduce by half, about 2 minutes.
Add the cream. Pour in the heavy cream and stir to combine. Simmer gently for 3–4 minutes until the sauce thickens slightly and coats the back of a spoon.
Finish with pasta and cheese. Add the drained pasta directly to the skillet. Toss to coat, adding reserved pasta water a splash at a time until the sauce reaches your preferred consistency. Remove from heat and stir in 1/2 cup of the Parmesan.
Serve. Divide among four bowls. Top with remaining Parmesan and fresh parsley or thyme. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Creamy Mushroom Pasta — The Twenty-Minute Argument for Growing Your Own