Mediterranean Chicken Pasta

Andre's comedy news is official: he's been offered a recurring spot on a Netflix sketch show. Not a lead — a recurring player, which means he appears in multiple episodes, which means NETFLIX, which means the family cannot and will not stop talking about it. Curtis called me Tuesday to say, "Your brother is going to be on the television." I said, "Netflix isn't exactly television, Daddy." He said, "It's a screen. It counts." He's not wrong. Andre called from LA vibrating with excitement and doing what Andre does: turning joy into performance. He did a five-minute bit about getting the call, complete with his agent's voice (nasal, enthusiastic) and his own voice (disbelieving, then crying, then making a joke about crying). We are never going to hear the end of this. We don't want to.

At school, December approaches with its usual chaos. Testing is done. Report cards are coming. The energy shifts from academic to celebratory, and my caseload shifts from test anxiety to holiday anxiety — the kids whose families can't afford gifts, whose parents fight more in December because money is tighter and expectations are higher, whose homes are colder and emptier and louder. I keep the drawer stocked. I keep the chair by the window. I keep showing up.

Derek and I had a Saturday night in. He came over after the kids went to Terrell's for a rare overnight (Terrell is being consistent this fall, which is suspicious and also welcome). We cooked together. He can't cook — let me be precise: he can heat things, he can assemble things, but he cannot cook in the way that Brenda Jackson defined cooking, which is: from scratch, with love, by feel. But he TRIED. He chopped onions (unevenly). He stirred sauce (too aggressively). He set the timer (and then forgot to check it). And he stood in my kitchen, in my space, with flour on his shirt and a wooden spoon in his hand, and he was terrible at cooking and perfect at being there. I made chicken parmesan. He made the salad. The chicken was excellent. The salad was a salad. We ate at my table, just the two of us, and the house was quiet and the food was warm and the man across from me was the man I am falling in love with and I have not said it yet and I am not going to say it yet but it is there, in the chicken parmesan, in the uneven onions, in the way he wipes the counter without being asked. It is there.

That Saturday night reminded me why I cook the way Brenda Jackson taught me — from scratch, with love, by feel — because food made that way holds something. The chicken parmesan I made is a dish I’ve been riffing on for years, and this Mediterranean chicken pasta is cut from the same cloth: rich tomato, tender chicken, herbs that fill the kitchen and make whoever is standing in it feel like they belong there. If you’ve got someone willing to chop onions unevenly and stir sauce too hard just to be next to you, this is the recipe you make together.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

12 oz penne or rigatoni pasta
1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
1/2 cup chicken broth
1/2 cup kalamata olives, halved
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
Salt and black pepper to taste
Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

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 pasta water before draining, then set pasta aside.
Season and sear the chicken. Pat chicken pieces dry and season generously with salt, pepper, oregano, and basil. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken and cook 5—6 minutes, turning once, until golden and cooked through. Transfer to a plate.
Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Add remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the same skillet. Add onion and cook 3—4 minutes until softened. Add garlic and red pepper flakes and cook 1 minute more, stirring constantly, until fragrant.
Simmer together. Pour in diced tomatoes and chicken broth. Stir to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook 8—10 minutes until the sauce thickens slightly.
Combine and finish. Return chicken to the skillet. Add drained pasta and olives. Toss everything together, adding a splash of reserved pasta water as needed to loosen the sauce. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Serve. Divide into bowls and top with crumbled feta and fresh parsley. Serve warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Mediterranean Chicken Pasta — The Night Derek Stood in My Kitchen and Was Perfectly Terrible at Cooking