← Back to Blog

Sausage Manicotti —rsquo; The Feeding Is the Point

Jack's garden operation grows more ambitious every year. The greenhouse, the market sales, the Farm Fund jar that now holds over three hundred dollars. He's 12 and he farms the way some kids play video games — obsessively, joyfully, with the deep understanding that this is not a hobby but a vocation wearing a hobby's clothes.

I made tater tot hotdish this week — the fall version, the one that fills the kitchen with the smell that means this time of year, this stage of life, this specific Tuesday when the stove is warm and the family is fed and the feeding is the point. Kevin ate seconds. The man always eats seconds. The eating is the approval and the approval is the marriage.

The garden winding down. Corn stalks brown and leaning. Last peppers picked before frost. Jack's garlic going in — the patience crop, planted now for next July. Nine months underground. The faith that the future needs what the present plants.

That week with the hotdish got me thinking about all the meals that do the same quiet work — the ones that fill the kitchen with a smell that means here, now, us. Sausage manicotti is another one of those. It’s the kind of pan you set on the table and step back from, because it announces itself. Jack comes in from the garden smelling like cold dirt and garlic, Kevin sits down without being asked twice, and the eating begins — which, as I’ve come to understand, is its own kind of language.

Sausage Manicotti

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 50 min | Total Time: 1 hr 15 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 12 manicotti pasta shells
  • 1 lb Italian sausage, casings removed (sweet or mild)
  • 2 cups whole-milk ricotta cheese
  • 2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
  • 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
  • 1 large egg, lightly beaten
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 teaspoon dried Italian seasoning
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 3 cups marinara sauce, divided
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

  1. Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook manicotti shells 2 minutes less than package directions (they will finish cooking in the oven). Drain, toss gently with olive oil to prevent sticking, and spread on a baking sheet to cool.
  2. Brown the sausage. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, cook the sausage, breaking it into small crumbles, until no longer pink, about 7–8 minutes. Add the minced garlic and cook 1 minute more. Drain excess fat and let cool slightly.
  3. Make the filling. In a large bowl, combine the ricotta, 1 1/2 cups mozzarella, 1/4 cup Parmesan, beaten egg, Italian seasoning, salt, and pepper. Stir in the cooled sausage mixture until evenly combined.
  4. Assemble the pan. Preheat oven to 375°F. Spread 1 cup of marinara sauce across the bottom of a 9x13-inch baking dish. Using a small spoon or a piping bag, carefully fill each manicotti shell with the sausage-ricotta mixture and arrange in a single layer over the sauce.
  5. Top and cover. Spoon the remaining 2 cups of marinara evenly over the stuffed shells. Scatter the remaining 1/2 cup mozzarella and 1/4 cup Parmesan over the top. Cover tightly with foil.
  6. Bake covered. Bake covered for 35 minutes, until the pasta is tender and the sauce is bubbling at the edges.
  7. Uncover and finish. Remove the foil and bake an additional 10–15 minutes until the cheese is melted, golden, and lightly browned in spots. Let rest 5 minutes before serving. Garnish with fresh parsley if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 580 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 28g | Carbs: 46g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 1020mg

Diane Holloway
About the cook who shared this
Diane Holloway
Week 389 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.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?