Seafood Angel Hair

San Diego. We loaded the Silverado on Monday morning — cooler packed with road snacks (Jessica's contribution: trail mix and fruit; my contribution: smoked beef jerky I made last weekend), two car seats, a bag of Diego's dinosaurs, Sofia's soccer ball, sunscreen by the gallon — and pointed west. Five hours across the desert, through the mountains, and down into the green coastal strip where the air changes completely, from dry furnace to cool salt, and you realize that Phoenix is an oven and the rest of the world doesn't live like that.

Sofia saw the ocean from the I-8 descent into Mission Valley and went quiet for ten minutes. Ten minutes of silence from a five-year-old who narrates everything. She just stared. The Pacific, blue and infinite, stretching to the horizon and beyond, bigger than anything she'd seen in her desert life. I watched her in the rearview mirror and saw something shift — a widening, an opening, the moment a child realizes the world is larger than their backyard.

Diego saw the ocean and said, "Big water." Then he asked for a snack.

The rental house is a block from the beach in Pacific Beach — a small bungalow with a patio, a grill (I checked), and a view of a palm tree that Sofia has named "Gerald." We unpacked, sunscreened the children, and went to the beach.

Diego's first ocean experience: he ran straight at the water with zero hesitation, got hit by a wave at ankle height, fell on his face, came up sputtering and laughing, and ran at it again. This pattern repeated approximately forty times. The boy fears nothing. Sofia was more cautious — she waded in slowly, testing, feeling the sand shift under her feet, the cold water on her legs. She lasted ten minutes before she was in up to her waist, jumping waves, screaming with joy, her hair wet and wild.

I stood in the surf with my kids — one on each side, the Pacific stretching before us, the sun setting behind — and I thought: remember this. Remember the way the water feels on your feet. Remember Sofia's face when she saw the ocean. Remember Diego running into waves without stopping. Remember the salt air. Remember you are alive and your family is alive and the world is beautiful and vast and there is more of it than you've seen.

Dinner: fish tacos. Obviously. From a taco stand in Pacific Beach that a local recommended — a walk-up window with a line around the block and a menu that was just: fish tacos, shrimp tacos, beer. The fish was beer-battered, fried, served on corn tortillas with cabbage and a white sauce and a squeeze of lime. Sofia ate two. Diego ate one and a half (the other half went on his shirt). Jessica had three and said, "These are better than yours." She's right. And I'm going to spend the rest of the trip figuring out why.

Jessica’s words — “These are better than yours” — were still rattling around in my head when we got home from San Diego, and honestly, they should be. That walk-up stand in Pacific Beach had something I haven’t figured out yet, and I’m not ready to publish my fish taco attempt until I get it right. But I couldn’t shake that salt-air, cold-lime, fresh-seafood feeling, so I did the next best thing: I pulled out a pound of shrimp, boiled a pot of angel hair, and cooked something that let me stay near the ocean a little longer, at least in my head. If you close your eyes while you’re eating it, you can almost hear Sofia going quiet on the I-8 descent.

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

Ingredients

8 oz angel hair pasta
1 lb large shrimp, peeled and deveined
1/2 lb sea scallops, patted dry and halved if large
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Salt and black pepper to taste
Grated Parmesan cheese, for serving

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook angel hair pasta according to package directions until just al dente, about 3–4 minutes. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water before draining. Drain and set aside.
Season the seafood. Pat shrimp and scallops dry with paper towels. Season generously on both sides with salt and black pepper.
Sear the scallops. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add scallops in a single layer and sear without moving, about 2 minutes per side, until golden. Transfer to a plate.
Cook the shrimp. Add another tablespoon of olive oil to the same skillet. Add shrimp and cook 1–2 minutes per side until pink and just cooked through. Transfer to the plate with the scallops.
Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Add remaining tablespoon of olive oil and the garlic to the skillet. Cook, stirring, for 30 seconds until fragrant. Add red pepper flakes and white wine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Simmer 2 minutes.
Add tomatoes and finish. Stir in cherry tomatoes and cook until they begin to soften, about 2 minutes. Add lemon juice, lemon zest, and butter, stirring until butter melts. If sauce is too thick, add a splash of reserved pasta water.
Combine and serve. Add drained pasta to the skillet and toss to coat. Gently fold in the reserved shrimp and scallops. Scatter parsley over the top. Serve immediately with grated Parmesan alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Seafood Angel Hair — Chasing That San Diego Magic Back Home