By One year since I came back to NIU. I left in October 2016 — medical withdrawal, grief leave, whatever the paperwork calls it — and I came back in January. But March is when I remember it most clearly, because March of last year Jess had been dead six months and I was starting to understand that the absence was not going to fill in. It was just going to be a new shape I carried around. Coming back to campus felt like putting on a coat that did not fit anymore but was still mine.
The coat fits better now. Not perfectly, but better. Dr. Perkins says that is what grief does — it does not shrink, you grow around it. I think about that sometimes when I am in seminar and I am actually taking notes and not just holding a pen. I am here. I am doing the thing. Jess would have had opinions about special education policy that I would want to argue with her about at two in the morning. She had opinions about everything. I miss arguing with her almost as much as I miss the rest of it.
Made pasta this week — truly the most bare-bones version. Spaghetti (a dollar ten at Aldi), butter, garlic powder, salt, a fistful of shredded parmesan from a bag in the communal fridge. Boiled the pasta, drained it, tossed it in butter and cheese and garlic powder while it was still hot. Cost less than two dollars. That is it. That is the whole thing.
I ate it out of the pot while standing over the sink watching the parking lot. There is a rhythm to making simple food — boil, drain, toss — that is almost meditative when your brain needs to turn down the volume. I made it three times this week. I am not even embarrassed. Butter pasta at eleven PM in a dorm kitchen is a legitimate coping mechanism and I stand by it completely.
Butter pasta three nights in a row is a grief ritual as much as a meal, and eventually I wanted something that had a little more fight in it—something with some noise. Puttanesca is exactly that: briny, loud, deeply savory, the kind of sauce my grandmother would have had opinions about. It felt right to make something she might have argued with me over, anchovies versus capers, the correct amount of garlic, whether you really need both. Here’s how I made the version she never got to weigh in on.
Vegan Spaghetti alla Puttanesca
Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 2
Ingredients
- 8 oz spaghetti
- 3 tablespoons olive oil
- 4 cloves garlic, minced (or 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder in a pinch)
- 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
- 1 can (14 oz) crushed or diced tomatoes
- 1/3 cup Kalamata olives, pitted and roughly chopped
- 2 tablespoons capers, drained
- 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
- Salt and black pepper, to taste
- Fresh or dried parsley, to finish (optional)
Instructions
- Boil the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook spaghetti according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/4 cup pasta water before draining.
- Build the sauce. While pasta cooks, heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and red pepper flakes and cook 1—2 minutes until fragrant, stirring so it doesn’t burn.
- Add the pantry staples. Pour in the crushed tomatoes, olives, capers, and oregano. Stir to combine. Simmer uncovered for 8—10 minutes until the sauce thickens slightly. Season with salt and pepper.
- Toss and finish. Add the drained spaghetti directly to the skillet. Toss to coat, adding a splash of reserved pasta water if the sauce feels too thick. Cook together for 1 minute so the pasta absorbs the flavor.
- Serve. Plate it, eat it out of the pan, eat it over the sink — no judgment. Finish with parsley if you have it.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 520 | Protein: 13g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 78g | Fiber: 6g | Sodium: 740mg