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Pesto Squash Noodles and Spaghetti with Burst Cherry Tomatoes — The Taste of Jack’s Garden at the End of Summer

The eclipse. August 21st, 2017, and central Iowa got about ninety percent totality, which meant the sky went weird — not dark, but wrong, a twilight at midday that made the birds stop singing and the cicadas start. We stood in the backyard with our paper eclipse glasses, all five of us, and watched the moon eat the sun, and for two minutes the world was silent in a way that felt like the earth was holding its breath.

Jack watched the eclipse and then looked at his garden and said, "Do you think the plants noticed?" I said probably not. He said, "I think they noticed." He went and stood among his tomato plants like he was keeping them company during something scary. He is six. He comforts tomatoes during astronomical events. This is my child.

I made a dinner that had nothing to do with the eclipse and everything to do with it being Monday in August: spaghetti and meatballs. Ground beef and pork meatballs, rolled with breadcrumbs, egg, garlic, Italian seasoning, browned in olive oil, then simmered in a tomato sauce made from Jack's Roma tomatoes. His tomatoes. In the sauce. The sauce was better than any sauce I've made with store-bought tomatoes, and it's because the Romas were picked that morning and they were still warm when I cut them and the juice ran red and sweet and tasted like August.

School starts next week. The summer is ending the way Iowa summers end — suddenly, with a feeling of too-fast and not-enough, like the last page of a book you weren't ready to finish. Noah is starting sixth grade. Middle school. He's eleven, quiet, mechanical, ready for bigger problems to take apart. Emma is starting fourth grade. She's nine, social, fierce, ready for anything. Jack is starting first grade. He's six, serious, soil-obsessed, and carrying a blue ribbon in his backpack because I told him he couldn't bring it and he put it in anyway.

I blanched and froze the last of the garden tomatoes this week. Eight quarts of Romas, sealed and labeled and stored next to the canning jars. The garden gave us everything it had this summer — corn, tomatoes, beans, sunflowers, a blue ribbon, and the specific joy of watching a child learn that food comes from the ground. The plants are done now. The garden is winding down. But the jars are full and the freezer is stocked and winter can come. We're ready.

We didn’t use cherry tomatoes that Monday — we used the Romas, every last warm one Jack had picked that morning — but when I went back out to the garden later that week and found the last cluster of cherry tomatoes still clinging to the vine, I knew exactly what to do with them. This pasta has become my favorite way to use whatever the garden offers in those final August days: squash that came in too fast, tomatoes that burst at the slightest heat, a spoonful of pesto that tastes like the whole summer distilled into a jar. It’s not the eclipse dinner, but it’s the dinner that closes out the season, and around here, that one matters just as much.

Pesto Squash Noodles and Spaghetti with Burst Cherry Tomatoes

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

Ingredients

  • 8 oz spaghetti
  • 2 medium zucchini or yellow summer squash, spiralized or julienned into noodles
  • 2 cups cherry tomatoes
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  • 3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
  • 1/3 cup prepared basil pesto (store-bought or homemade)
  • 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • 1/4 cup reserved pasta cooking water
  • 1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
  • Fresh basil leaves, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Cook spaghetti according to package directions until al dente. Before draining, scoop out 1/4 cup of pasta water and set aside. Drain and set the pasta aside.
  2. Burst the tomatoes. Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the cherry tomatoes in a single layer. Cook without stirring for 2–3 minutes, then shake the pan and continue cooking until the tomatoes have blistered and begun to burst, about 4–5 minutes total. Season with salt and pepper. Transfer the tomatoes to a bowl and set aside.
  3. Soften the garlic. Reduce heat to medium and add the remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the same skillet. Add the sliced garlic and red pepper flakes, if using. Cook, stirring frequently, until fragrant and just golden, about 1–2 minutes. Do not let the garlic brown.
  4. Add the squash noodles. Add the spiralized squash to the skillet. Toss to coat in the garlic oil and cook for 2–3 minutes, just until slightly tender but still with some bite. Season lightly with salt.
  5. Bring it all together. Add the drained spaghetti to the skillet with the squash noodles. Spoon in the pesto and add a splash of the reserved pasta water. Toss everything together over low heat until the noodles are evenly coated and glossy, adding more pasta water a tablespoon at a time if needed to loosen the sauce.
  6. Finish and serve. Gently fold in the burst cherry tomatoes, including any accumulated juices. Stir in the Parmesan and taste for seasoning. Divide among bowls and top with extra Parmesan and fresh basil leaves. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 390 | Protein: 12g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 50g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 430mg

Diane Holloway
About the cook who shared this
Diane Holloway
Week 74 of Diane’s 30-year story · Des Moines, Iowa
Diane is a forty-six-year-old insurance adjuster in Des Moines who grew up on a four-hundred-acre farm that her family had worked since 1908. When commodity prices crashed and the bank came calling, the Webers lost the farm — four generations of heritage sold at auction. Diane left with her mother's casserole recipes and a cast iron skillet and rebuilt her life in the city. She cooks Midwest comfort food because it tastes like home, even when home doesn't exist anymore.

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