New House Pictures Raw Vegan Pasta

Year seven. Done. Three hundred and sixty-four weeks. Seven years from the dark kitchen. Seven years of cornbread. Seven years of children growing and businesses starting and tattoos healing and leases signing and the slow, stubborn, relentless insistence on growing toward the light even when the light required a seven-hour drive or a positive pregnancy test or a pandemic or a storefront on Gallatin Pike.

Sarah's Table opens June 1st. Three weeks. The space is ready. The menu is ready. The sign is up. The cornbread is tested. The team is ready: Wanda (full-time — she quit her other job, which is either loyalty or insanity, and I'm choosing loyalty), Patricia (part-time, lunch service), and me. Three women. One kitchen. The same three women who cooked in the Madison rental. The same team. The upgraded venue. The table that was in a rented kitchen on Sundays is now in its own building, on its own street, with its own sign. The table is HOME.

If I could talk to the Sarah of Week 1 — and I can, she's in me, the sunflower proves it — I'd say: the dark kitchen becomes a church. The church has a sign. The sign has a name. The name is yours. YOURS. Not Mama's. Not Earline's. Not Marcus's. Not Terrence's. Not anyone else's. The name is SARAH'S TABLE because the table is yours and you built it and you are standing in a storefront on Gallatin Pike in East Nashville and Earline is on the wall and Chloe's menu is on the board and Jayden's stool is at the counter and Elijah's gravel patch is in the parking lot and the cornbread is in the display case and the door is about to open and the people are about to come and you are about to feed them and the feeding is who you are. The feeding has always been who you are. The dark kitchen was not the end. The dark kitchen was the beginning. Everything since has been the meal. The meal is almost served.

I made spring vegetable pasta. The year-closing tradition. Penne, asparagus, peas, lemon, garlic, parmesan. Year seven. The seventh pasta. The seventh version of the same meal made by a different version of the same woman. Year one: Antioch, alone, dark. Year two: Hermitage, new. Year three: Terrence on the couch. Year four: pandemic, pregnant. Year five: three kids. Year six: business launched. Year seven: storefront signed, dental office farewell, the church about to open.

Chloe made the pasta this year. All of it. The whole thing. She made the pasta and I sat at the table and she served me and the tradition that was mine is now hers and the pasta tastes the same and the light through the window is the same and the woman at the stove is different — younger, fiercer, more technically proficient, with a KitchenAid named Ruby and a recipe for Nashville Hot Cornbread Bites and a dream of a restaurant that she doesn't know she's already standing in. The tradition is hers. The kitchen is hers. The line is hers. Sarah's Table is opening in three weeks and Chloe Mitchell is the reason it's possible and the reason it matters and the reason the pasta tastes like the future.

Year seven. Done. Onward. Always onward. Into the storefront. Into the church. Into the table. The Mitchell way. The only way. The way that starts with cornbread and ends with everything.

Seven years of this pasta, and I have always been the one at the stove—but not this time. This year I sat down, folded my hands, and watched Chloe handle every single step: the spiralizing, the tossing, the tasting, the plating. She served it to me at my own table, and I could not have been prouder if she had handed me the key to the storefront herself. The recipe below is the one she made—bright, clean, full of spring—and it is exactly right for a year that ends with a door about to open.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 20 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 medium zucchini, spiralized into noodles
1 cup fresh or thawed green peas
1 cup fresh asparagus tips, shaved thin with a vegetable peeler
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, torn
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Red pepper flakes, to taste
2 tablespoons raw pine nuts or hemp seeds, for topping

Instructions

Spiralize the zucchini. Using a spiralizer or julienne peeler, cut zucchini into long noodles. Place in a large mixing bowl and lightly salt. Let sit 5 minutes, then gently pat dry with a clean towel to remove excess moisture.
Make the lemon-garlic dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the lemon juice, lemon zest, olive oil, garlic, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes until well combined.
Prepare the vegetables. Add the peas, shaved asparagus tips, and cherry tomatoes to the bowl with the zucchini noodles.
Dress and toss. Pour the lemon-garlic dressing over the vegetables and toss gently to coat everything evenly. Taste and adjust salt or lemon as needed.
Finish and serve. Divide among four plates or bowls. Top each serving with torn fresh basil and a sprinkle of pine nuts or hemp seeds. Serve immediately at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

New House Pictures Raw Vegan Pasta — The Year Chloe Took the Spoon