Pesto Tortellini Salad — The Pasta Paul Would Have Loved

The Damiano Center on Thursday: wild rice soup, fifty gallons, the same recipe I have been making for twenty-some years now. The constancy is the point. People come into the basement of that building hungry and uncertain and what they find is a fifty-gallon pot of wild rice soup that has been there every Thursday of every year, and they find Linda Johansson, who has been there too, and the constancy is the message: you can come back. You can come back. You can come back. Lena (Anna's youngest, college freshman) is in college now. She calls me sometimes. The calls are about boys, mostly. I listen. I do not give advice. I am eighteen-year-old's grandmother. My credibility on boys is suspect at best. I tell her the kinds of things a grandmother is supposed to tell her: be careful, be brave, trust your gut, do not date the one who reminds you of someone you do not like. She thinks I am wise. I am, in fact, just old. The two get confused sometimes in the right direction. Jakob (Anna's middle, recently graduated) has a job. He hates the job. He is figuring it out. He called me Tuesday for advice. I told him: that is what your twenties are for. The first job is supposed to be unsatisfying. The first job teaches you what you do not want. He said, "Grandma, that is not super helpful." I said, "It is the truth. Helpful is not always the same as comforting." He laughed. He hung up. He kept the job for now. He will figure it out. I cooked Macaroni and cheese from scratch this week. Béchamel with sharp Wisconsin cheddar (no Velveeta in this kitchen), hot sauce for backbone, dijon for depth. Tossed with elbows, topped with breadcrumbs and parmesan, baked until the breadcrumbs are dark gold and the inside bubbles. Paul's comfort food. The taste is Paul's happiness, which lives in the cheese, which lives in the kitchen. The Damiano Center on Thursday. I have served soup at this center for twenty-some years. I know the regulars by name. I know the seasons of the crowd. I know that the first cold snap brings new faces. I know that the days after holidays bring the lonely ones. I know that the worst weeks of the year are not the ones that feel the worst — they are the ones in February when the cold has worn everyone down and the city has run out of tenderness. Paul would have liked this dinner. Paul would have liked this week. Paul would have liked this life. I tell him about it anyway. The telling is the keeping. I have been told, by a grief counselor, by friends, by my own children at certain anxious moments, that perhaps the constant tell-Paul thing is not healthy. I do not agree. I think it is exactly healthy. I think it is, in fact, the structural beam of my emotional architecture. The beam is solid. The house stands. It is enough. Paul is not here. Mamma is not here. Pappa is not here. Erik is not here. They are all here in the kitchen, in the smell, in the taste, in the wooden spoon and the bread pans and the marble slab. The dead are not where the body went. The dead are in the kitchen. It is enough.

The macaroni and cheese was Paul’s — his specific, irreducible comfort food, the one I will keep making because the taste is his happiness and the kitchen is where he still lives. But pasta in this house has always been generous that way: it holds more than one memory at a time. This pesto tortellini salad is what I make when I need the kitchen to feel full again — when I want color and something that travels well, to potlucks, to Anna’s, to Lena and Jakob and whoever else needs feeding. Paul would have taken a second bowl. That is recommendation enough for me.

Pesto Tortellini Salad

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes (includes 30-minute chill) | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 20 oz refrigerated cheese tortellini
• 1/2 cup basil pesto (store-bought or homemade)
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
• 1/2 cup pitted black or Kalamata olives, sliced
• 1/2 cup jarred roasted red peppers, drained and chopped
• 1/4 cup fresh parmesan, shaved or coarsely grated
• 1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, torn
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• Pinch of red pepper flakes (optional)

Instructions

1. Cook the tortellini. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook tortellini according to package directions until just tender, about 7–9 minutes. Drain well and spread on a rimmed baking sheet to cool for 5 minutes — you want them warm but not steaming when you dress them.
2. Dress while warm. Transfer tortellini to a large bowl. Add pesto and olive oil and toss gently until every piece is coated. The warmth helps the pesto absorb into the pasta rather than sitting on top.
3. Add the vegetables. Fold in the cherry tomatoes, olives, and roasted red peppers. Season with salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Taste and adjust — pesto saltiness varies by brand.
4. Chill. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. The flavors settle and deepen as it sits. This salad is better after an hour than it is right away.
5. Finish and serve. Just before serving, scatter the shaved parmesan and torn basil over the top. Serve cold or at room temperature. Leftovers keep well covered in the refrigerator for up to 3 days — add a small drizzle of olive oil when you pull it back out, as the pasta will have absorbed the dressing overnight.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 375 | Protein: 13g | Fat: 19g | Carbs: 40g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 610mg