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Mushroom Prosciutto Pasta — The Quick Dinner That Held the Whole Night Together

One week before Christmas and I'm twenty-six weeks pregnant and the floor is running short-staffed because two colleagues are out sick and December is always understaffed and I'm doing the version of the job that requires you to move faster than your body currently prefers. I manage. The body has more capacity than it lets on most of the time.

We took Liam to see the lights at the Common on Thursday evening—the Boston Common holiday tree, which he has been discussing since the lights went up at home ("lights! big lights! outside!") and which delivered on the description: enormous tree, city lit, Liam on Sean's shoulders with his arms straight up at the sky. He said "wow." Just wow. I could hear it from three feet away. The kind of wonder that doesn't know yet that the word "wow" means anything other than exactly what it is.

Sean made dinner Thursday when we got home—pasta with sausage and kale, the quick version—and Liam ate at the table and Nora moved through the whole meal and I sat at the table at eight-thirty PM in December and felt all of it at once: tired and full and the city still lit outside our windows and this family around me that I made and that made me and that is going to add one more person to itself in a few months.

Made brown bread for the Fitzgeralds on Sunday. Linda texted when I sent them: "You never forget." I texted back: "Of course I don't." Linda Fitzgerald having her brown bread at Christmas is one of the constants I choose to keep.

That Thursday pasta Sean made — the one I sat down to at eight-thirty in December with the city still lit outside and Nora moving through the whole meal — is the kind of dinner I want a recipe for. Something with cured meat and something earthy, something that comes together fast because the evening is already full. This mushroom prosciutto pasta is the version I’d make myself on a night like that: ready before anyone runs out of patience, warm enough to feel like exactly what December asked for.

Mushroom Prosciutto Pasta

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

Ingredients

  • 12 oz linguine or spaghetti
  • 3 oz prosciutto, torn into pieces
  • 8 oz cremini mushrooms, sliced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1/2 cup dry white wine
  • 1/2 cup heavy cream
  • 1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan, plus more for serving
  • 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
  • 1/2 cup reserved pasta water

Instructions

  1. 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.
  2. Crisp the prosciutto. While pasta cooks, heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add prosciutto and cook 2—3 minutes until just crisp at the edges. Remove to a plate and set aside.
  3. Sauté the mushrooms. Add remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the same skillet. Add mushrooms in a single layer and cook undisturbed for 3 minutes, then stir and cook another 2—3 minutes until golden. Season with salt and pepper.
  4. Build the sauce. Add garlic and red pepper flakes to the mushrooms and cook 1 minute until fragrant. Pour in white wine and simmer 2 minutes, scraping up any browned bits. Stir in heavy cream and cook 2—3 minutes until slightly thickened.
  5. Combine. Add drained pasta to the skillet and toss to coat, adding reserved pasta water a splash at a time until the sauce clings loosely to the noodles. Stir in Parmesan.
  6. Finish and serve. Fold in the crisped prosciutto. Taste and adjust seasoning. Divide among bowls and top with fresh parsley and additional Parmesan.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 19g | Fat: 21g | Carbs: 62g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 540mg

Kate Donovan
About the cook who shared this
Kate Donovan
Week 195 of Kate’s 30-year story · Boston, Massachusetts
Kate is a thirty-five-year-old nurse practitioner in Boston and a widowed mother of two whose husband Sean died of brain cancer at thirty-three. She makes Irish soda bread and beef stew and shepherd's pie because the recipes are all she has left of a man who was supposed to grow old with her. She writes about cooking through grief and finding out you can still feed your children on the worst day of your life.

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