Sun Dried Tomato Pasta

Zoe is fifteen and the only child at home. She has become the center of the household in a way she never was when four children shared the space. She is the one at the dinner table every night. She is the one who helps in the kitchen. She is the one who draws the family's portrait in pencil and watercolor and oil paint and each portrait includes everyone — the ones who are here and the ones who are away. Her latest: a painting of the kitchen table with seven chairs, four of them occupied (me, Derek, Zoe, Curtis) and three of them holding memories instead of people (Marcus's debate books, Jasmine's journal, Isaiah's apron). She hung it in the kitchen. It is the most accurate portrait of a family I have ever seen.

Zoe said, at dinner, "It's weird being the only kid." I said, "You're not the only kid. You're the kid who's HERE." She said, "Same thing." (The virus has spread to the next generation. SAME THING.) I said, "Being here is the thing that matters. Your brothers and sister are doing their things. You are doing yours. And yours is: being here. At this table. With us." She nodded. The nod. The Jackson nod on a Mitchell face. The nod that says: I hear you. I understand. I'm here.

Made Zoe's favorite dinner: my chicken tikka masala, the recipe from year two. She ate two plates and said, "This is the best thing you make." Not the gumbo. Not the fried chicken. The tikka masala. The recipe I invented. The recipe that belongs to no tradition except mine. Zoe's favorite is my invention. My stepdaughter's favorite dish is the one I made from my own imagination. The line includes everything: the inherited and the invented. The old and the new. The Folgers can and the garam masala. Everything.

Zoe’s comment stuck with me — that her favorite dish is the one I invented, the one that belongs to no tradition but mine. That’s the thing about the recipes we create in the in-between spaces: they become the most ours. This sun dried tomato pasta lives in that same territory. No grandmother handed it down, no cookbook gave me the exact version I make. I found it by feel, by taste, by making it again and again until it was right. Like the tikka masala, like everything at this table: inherited and invented, all at once.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

12 oz penne or rigatoni pasta
1 cup sun-dried tomatoes in oil, drained and roughly chopped
3 tablespoons oil reserved from the sun-dried tomato jar
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup low-sodium chicken or vegetable broth
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
Salt and black pepper to taste
1/4 cup fresh basil, torn
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water before draining.
Bloom the aromatics. While the pasta cooks, heat the reserved sun-dried tomato oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring constantly, for about 60 seconds until fragrant — do not let the garlic brown.
Build the sauce. Add the chopped sun-dried tomatoes and oregano to the skillet and stir to coat. Pour in the broth and let it reduce by half, about 3 minutes. Stir in the heavy cream and bring to a gentle simmer.
Finish and combine. Add the drained pasta directly to the skillet. Toss to coat, adding splashes of reserved pasta water as needed to loosen the sauce. Remove from heat and fold in the Parmesan and lemon juice.
Taste and serve. Season with salt and black pepper. Divide into bowls, top with torn fresh basil and extra Parmesan, and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Sun Dried Tomato Pasta — Another Recipe That Belongs to No Tradition Except Mine