Lemon Pepper Basil Chicken and Pasta

The end of April. The garden is growing — peas climbing, lettuce emerging, the radishes showing their red shoulders above the dirt. Helen's seedlings are ready for transplant but waiting for May, waiting for the last frost to pass, waiting with the patience that gardening demands and that Helen has in abundance. She checks the weather forecast three times a day. I check it once. Between us, we're checking enough for the whole neighborhood.

I made a spring vegetable pasta — the first real spring meal, using what the garden is giving right now. Fresh peas, shelled on the porch. Asparagus from the fence row. Chives from the pot by the door. All tossed with pasta, olive oil, garlic, parmesan, and lemon. The pasta tasted like April — bright, green, optimistic. Each bite was a different vegetable, a different texture, a different note in the spring symphony that the garden was conducting from the backyard.

Frost had his annual vet visit. Dr. Morrison in Burlington, who's been Frost's doctor since he was a puppy, said he's in good shape for twelve. Twelve is old for a border collie, though Frost doesn't know it and I'm not going to tell him. His muzzle is gray. He moves slower in the morning, takes longer to get up, sleeps deeper. But his eyes are bright and his nose is wet and he still chases the chipmunk by the sugarhouse, even though neither of them believes he'll catch it. The chase is the thing. The chase is enough.

David called to say he's bringing the kids for Mother's Day next weekend. Helen pretends not to care about Mother's Day, but I've noticed she irons the tablecloth and sets out the good dishes when the kids are coming, which means she cares about Mother's Day the way she cares about everything: deeply, competently, and without admitting it.

I'm planning the Mother's Day menu: scrambled eggs with garden chives, fresh bread, maple cream pie for dessert. Helen's favorite breakfast, followed by Helen's favorite pie. The woman who signed me up for the blog, who retired from forty-one years of nursing, who raised two children and helped raise six grandchildren and keeps the flower beds and the seedlings and the recipe box and the whole intricate machinery of this family running — she deserves a pie. She deserves more than a pie. But the pie is what I can make, and making is my language, and the pie will say what I mean.

Peas climbing. Frost aging gracefully. Mother's Day coming. The garden grows. We grow with it.

That spring vegetable pasta I mentioned — peas and asparagus and chives tossed with lemon and parmesan — got me thinking about how much a little brightness can carry a dish. This Lemon Pepper Basil Chicken and Pasta works on the same principle: fresh herbs, good lemon, simple ingredients doing honest work. It’s the kind of meal that belongs on the table when the garden is waking up and the windows are finally open, when everything tastes a little more alive than it did a month ago.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

8 oz penne or rigatoni pasta
1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into bite-sized pieces
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt
Zest of 1 lemon
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup chicken broth
1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup of pasta water before draining.
Season and sear the chicken. Pat chicken pieces dry and season with salt, pepper, and half the lemon zest. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Cook chicken until golden on all sides and cooked through, about 6–7 minutes. Remove to a plate.
Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Add remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil and the garlic to the skillet. Cook for 30 seconds until fragrant. Add chicken broth and lemon juice, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Let simmer for 1–2 minutes.
Combine everything. Add the drained pasta, chicken, butter, remaining lemon zest, and Parmesan to the skillet. Toss well to coat, adding reserved pasta water a splash at a time until the sauce is silky and clings to the pasta.
Finish with fresh basil. Remove from heat, fold in the sliced basil, and serve immediately with extra Parmesan and a crack of black pepper.

Nutrition (per serving)

Lemon Pepper Basil Chicken and Pasta — The First Real Spring Meal