← Back to Blog

Creamy Skinny Pasta Casserole — When the Pantry Knows What You Need Before You Do

Mike called Monday and said he could use me on the Beaumont site if I felt up to it. Light duty, he said. Supervision only. No lifting, no bending, just walk the site and keep the crew on schedule. I said I'd be there Tuesday. Connie looked at me across the kitchen table the way she looks at a dog that's about to eat something it shouldn't, but she didn't say no. She said be careful. Which is Connie for no.

I went. Drove to the site in the dark, parked next to the trailer, and walked the foundation they'd poured the week before. Danny had the crew moving. He's good — better than good, better than I want to admit — and the truth is they didn't need me there. I was a foreman with no crew, standing on a slab with my hands in my coat pockets while younger men did the work I used to do. I lasted four hours. My back didn't seize but it warned me, the way a dog growls before it bites, and I drove home before it could follow through.

Wednesday I stayed home and made beef vegetable soup because the weather turned bitter and because soup is the only honest response to a Kentucky February. Chuck roast browned in the Dutch oven, then onion, celery, carrot, potato, canned tomatoes, beef stock, and whatever else is in the refrigerator that needs using. Betty's rule: soup is not a recipe, soup is a clearing house. You put in what you've got and you cook it slow and you eat it with cornbread and you don't complain. I cooked it for three hours and ate two bowls and put the rest in containers for the week because a man without a job still needs to eat on a schedule or the days lose their shape entirely.

Travis called Thursday evening. He and Jolene are looking at houses — a little ranch in Nicholasville, three bedrooms, a yard. He's twenty-eight and buying a house and I'm fifty-three and wondering if I can still carry groceries from the truck to the kitchen without my spine filing a grievance. He didn't mention the disability. He talked about square footage and interest rates and I listened and was proud and said nothing about my own situation because his good news deserves its own air.

Saturday I drove to the site again. Just sat in the truck this time. Watched the crew through the windshield. Danny was running the framing, calling out measurements, moving like a man who knows exactly what he's doing. I started the truck and drove home. Connie was in the kitchen. She said how was it. I said it's not mine anymore. She nodded. She already knew.

Betty’s rule about soup being a clearinghouse stuck with me all week — you put in what you’ve got, you cook it slow, and you don’t complain. That same instinct is what drives this casserole. It’s not fancy, and it’s not trying to be; it’s the kind of thing you pull together on a gray Thursday when the refrigerator and the pantry are both halfway empty and you still need to feed yourself like a man with somewhere to be. The “skinny” part just means it won’t sit heavy, which matters when the days are long and the work of getting through them is enough weight on its own.

Creamy Skinny Pasta Casserole

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 12 oz penne or rotini pasta
  • 1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breast, cut into 1-inch cubes
  • 1 cup plain low-fat Greek yogurt
  • 1 can (10.5 oz) reduced-fat cream of chicken soup
  • 1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth
  • 1/2 cup diced yellow onion
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 cup frozen peas or mixed frozen vegetables, thawed
  • 1 cup shredded reduced-fat mozzarella cheese, divided
  • 1 tsp Italian seasoning
  • 1/2 tsp black pepper
  • 1/2 tsp kosher salt
  • Nonstick cooking spray

Instructions

  1. Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Lightly coat a 9x13-inch baking dish with nonstick cooking spray and set aside.
  2. Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until just shy of al dente, about 1–2 minutes less than the package says. Drain and set aside — it will finish cooking in the oven.
  3. Brown the chicken. While pasta cooks, heat a large skillet over medium-high heat and coat with nonstick spray. Add the cubed chicken, season with salt and pepper, and cook 5–6 minutes, stirring occasionally, until cooked through and lightly browned. Add the onion and garlic and cook 2 minutes more until softened.
  4. Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium-low. Stir in the cream of chicken soup, chicken broth, Greek yogurt, and Italian seasoning. Mix until smooth and heated through, about 2 minutes. Do not boil or the yogurt may separate.
  5. Combine. Add the drained pasta and thawed vegetables to the skillet. Stir to coat everything evenly in the sauce, then fold in 3/4 cup of the shredded mozzarella.
  6. Bake. Transfer the mixture to the prepared baking dish and spread evenly. Sprinkle the remaining 1/4 cup mozzarella over the top. Bake uncovered for 20–25 minutes, until the edges are bubbling and the cheese on top is melted and lightly golden.
  7. Rest and serve. Let the casserole rest 5 minutes before serving. Portion into bowls or plates. Good with a side of crusty bread or a simple green salad if you have it; fine on its own if you don’t.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 340 | Protein: 31g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 490mg

Craig Hensley
About the cook who shared this
Craig Hensley
Week 305 of Craig’s 30-year story · Lexington, Kentucky
Craig is a retired coal miner from Harlan County, Kentucky — a man who spent twenty years underground and seventeen hours trapped in a collapsed tunnel before he was twenty-four. He moved his family to Lexington when the mine closed, learned to cook his mama Betty's Appalachian recipes from memory because she never wrote them down, and now he's trying to get them on paper before they're lost. He says "reckon" and "fixing to" and means both. His bourbon-glazed ribs are, according to his wife Connie, "acceptable" — which is the highest praise she gives.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?