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Pasta alla Norma — The Italian Dinner You Make to Remember the One You Can't Stop Thinking About

I had a conversation with my supervisor about maternity leave this week, which made it formal in a way it hadn't been. I'm planning eight weeks, taking it just before the due date so I have time to stop being a nurse for a moment before I start being a mother full time. Eight weeks isn't much—I know that from every parent I've watched leave and come back—but it's what the math allows and I'm not someone who has ever had the luxury of pretending it's otherwise.

What I didn't say in that meeting is that I'm dreading leaving the floor in some specific way I can't entirely explain. Oncology becomes your world in ways that other hospital floors don't. My patients have been coming back to me for years. I know their families. I know which ones want quiet and which ones want to talk and which ones need someone to cry with at two in the morning. There are four people on that floor right now who have been fighting for longer than I've been pregnant and who will still be there when I come back and I'll be glad to see them and devastated to see them simultaneously. That's the job. You don't get to have one without the other.

Sean took me to Giacomo's on Saturday night, the North End location, and we ate pasta and candle-lit and I wore a dress I've been saving since I could still fit into it and we stayed for two hours and didn't talk about the baby once, just talked about other things the way we used to when we were twenty-three and the whole city was just something to explore. Spaghetti alle vongole, tiramisu to share. Thirty-one weeks. One of the last date nights before everything changes.

I’ve been thinking about Saturday night all week — the candles, the wine, the way two hours disappeared without anyone mentioning a due date or a hospital floor. I can’t get back to Giacomo’s on a Tuesday, but I can pull out a pot and do something that earns a little of that same reverence. Pasta alla Norma is the dish I reach for when I want food that asks something of me: roasting the eggplant low and slow, letting the tomatoes collapse into something worth waiting for. It’s not spaghetti alle vongole, but it carries the same unhurried intention — the kind of meal that says tonight matters.

Pasta alla Norma

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 40 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 large eggplant (about 1 1/4 lbs), cut into 3/4-inch cubes
  • 1/4 cup olive oil, divided, plus more for drizzling
  • 3/4 teaspoon kosher salt, divided, plus more for pasta water
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper, divided
  • 4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  • 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
  • 1 can (28 oz) whole San Marzano tomatoes, crushed by hand
  • 1/4 teaspoon granulated sugar
  • 12 oz rigatoni or penne pasta
  • 1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, torn, plus more to garnish
  • 2 oz ricotta salata, finely grated or crumbled

Instructions

  1. Roast the eggplant. Preheat oven to 425°F. Toss eggplant cubes with 2 tablespoons olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon black pepper. Spread in a single layer on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Roast 25–30 minutes, flipping once halfway, until deeply golden and tender. Set aside.
  2. Build the tomato sauce. Warm the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and red pepper flakes; cook 1–2 minutes, stirring constantly, until fragrant but not browned. Pour in the crushed tomatoes, the remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper, and the sugar. Stir to combine and simmer uncovered 15 minutes, until the sauce thickens slightly.
  3. Cook the pasta. Meanwhile, bring a large pot of generously salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta cooking water before draining.
  4. Combine. Add the roasted eggplant to the tomato sauce and stir gently to coat. Add the drained pasta and toss over low heat, adding a splash of reserved pasta water as needed to loosen the sauce and help it cling.
  5. Finish and serve. Remove from heat and fold in the torn basil. Divide among bowls, scatter ricotta salata generously over the top, and finish with a drizzle of good olive oil and a few extra basil leaves.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 15g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 72g | Fiber: 8g | Sodium: 620mg

Kate Donovan
About the cook who shared this
Kate Donovan
Week 96 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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