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Kale Pesto Pizza — The Italian Comfort Food That Earns Its Place on the Freezer List

I drove to my mother's house in Orem on Wednesday because I do that on Wednesdays, and Wednesday is a day I have organized around my mother. The week was a summer week, the kind where the light through the kitchen window arrives at a particular angle and the freezer hums in a different register depending on the temperature in the garage. I made notes in my prep notebook on Sunday afternoon, the way I always do: meal name, ingredient list, cost per serving, prep time, freezer instructions. Twenty-eight bags. Two hours and eleven minutes. A little slow this week, by my standards, but Brandon was helping and the conversation was good, and I have learned, slowly and against my own grain, that the conversation is sometimes the point and the time is sometimes a courtesy I extend to my husband for being willing to chop onions on a Sunday afternoon.

The children are doing what they do, which is the central report of every week of my adult life. Ethan is 21, in Manila on his mission, and his last email mentioned a chicken adobo so good he is going to make me make it when he comes home. Olivia is 19, at BYU studying elementary education — the path she chose at age seven and has not deviated from once. Mason, 16, is in Brazil on his mission. His weekly emails are short and full of jokes. He does not write much about the work. He writes about the food. Lily is 14, in high school, asking the kind of questions in Sunday School that make the teachers uncomfortable, which I find difficult and also, secretly, admirable. Noah is 12, the comedian, the performer — the kid who does an impression of my disappointed face in front of company, and gets away with it. That is the family report. I do not have a system for these reports. I just listen and remember and call back when I said I would call back, which is most of the time and not all of the time, and the difference between most and all is the territory of motherhood.

The recipe of the week was baked ziti, which I have made some specific number of times in my life and have refined to a system that I now hand to other people in printed form. The version I made this week fed eight, cost under fifteen dollars, and required twenty-six minutes of active prep, which is within my requirements and not a coincidence. I labeled every bag — meal, date, reheating instructions, servings — because future-me is the woman I am writing for, and future-me is tired. I have stopped explaining the freezer-meal philosophy to people who already follow my work, and I have stopped apologizing for it to people who do not. The philosophy is simple: tomorrow is coming whether you are ready or not. You can either be ready or not. I pick ready.

Brandon and I sat at the kitchen island on Thursday night and did not talk much, and the not-talking was a language we built in therapy and have refused to unlearn. We have been married a long time. The arithmetic of it is the arithmetic of my whole life. There were years we missed each other in the same room, and there are years we find each other in the silences, and this is one of the latter, and I am old enough now to know that the latter is the achievement and the former was the cost.

Twenty-eight bags. Labeled. Dated. Stacked. The week, in the only currency that matters in this house.

Baked ziti was this week’s anchor, and it did its job — but the recipe I keep coming back to when I need something that feels equally warm and Italian without the same prep footprint is this kale pesto pizza. It fits the same philosophy: simple, real ingredients, a result that tastes like you tried harder than you did. Brandon will eat three slices without commentary, which in our house is the highest possible review.

Kale Pesto Pizza

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 lb prepared pizza dough (store-bought or homemade)
  • 2 cups fresh kale, tough stems removed, roughly chopped
  • 1/2 cup fresh basil leaves
  • 1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for topping
  • 3 tablespoons pine nuts (or walnuts)
  • 3 cloves garlic
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • 1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
  • 1/2 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
  • Red pepper flakes, optional

Instructions

  1. Preheat. Place a rack in the upper third of your oven and preheat to 475°F. If you have a pizza stone, set it in the oven now. Lightly oil a large baking sheet or pizza pan.
  2. Make the kale pesto. Combine the kale, basil, Parmesan, pine nuts, and garlic in a food processor. Pulse until coarsely chopped. With the motor running, drizzle in 2 tablespoons of olive oil and process until a slightly chunky pesto forms. Season generously with salt and pepper.
  3. Shape the dough. On a lightly floured surface, stretch or roll the pizza dough into a 12-inch round (or a rustic rectangle — it doesn’t need to be perfect). Transfer to the prepared pan.
  4. Assemble. Brush the outer 1-inch border of the dough with the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Spread the kale pesto evenly over the dough, leaving the border clear. Scatter the mozzarella over the pesto, then top with the halved cherry tomatoes.
  5. Bake. Bake for 13—15 minutes, until the crust is golden at the edges and the cheese is melted and beginning to brown in spots.
  6. Finish and serve. Remove from the oven and let rest for 2 minutes. Top with additional Parmesan and a pinch of red pepper flakes if desired. Slice and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 19g | Fat: 21g | Carbs: 54g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 620mg

Michelle Larson
About the cook who shared this
Michelle Larson
Week 492 of Michelle’s 30-year story · Provo, Utah
Michelle is a forty-four-year-old mom of six in Provo, Utah, a former accountant who traded spreadsheets for freezer meal prep and never looked back. She is LDS, organized to a fault, and can fill a chest freezer with sixty labeled meals in a single Sunday afternoon. She lost her second baby to SIDS and carries that grief in everything she does — including the way she feeds her family, which she does with a precision and devotion that borders on sacred.

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