ANTIPASTO PASTA OR KALE SALAD

Long story short: Here is a bunch of stuff I didn’t think I liked (Raw chickpeas! Pepperoncini! Artichokes!) in a big bowl with a lot of tasty salty briny things, all swimming in an amazing garlicky oregano dressing. I love it.

Long story slightly longer: My friend S brought a delicious pasta salad to one of our picnics earlier this summer, explaining that she’d adapted it from the Smitten Kitchen version of Nancy Silverton’s chopped salad from Mozza. Despite the presence of the aforementioned stuff I didn’t think I liked, I adored it and immediately wanted to re-create it for myself (and A, who was out of town and had thus missed out). I did, and we both loved it.

I have a surfeit of pasta recipes, though, plus I’m trying not to eat pasta every single week, so I also wanted to try this in straight-up salad form, but the traditional iceberg lettuce format of the original didn’t appeal to me. Considering this concoction is chock-full of items cured, pickled, and preserved, I thought it could use a little more veggie oomph, and kale seemed a natural fit. It plays well with Italian ingredients, its sturdiness stands up to the heavy dressing, and it has enough flavor of its own to avoid getting lost in the shuffle. I was right; this made an excellent salad—a truth that was tested when A had to fly to Indiana unexpectedly on the day I’d planned to make it, leaving me with all six servings to eat on my own. Sure, I was a bit weary of antipasto salad by the end of the week, but none went uneaten. It was really that good.

A few notes: The Smitten Kitchen recipe called for way, way too much salt considering all the processed ingredients bringing serious sodium of their own. I halved it and it was plenty. I also halved the salami and cheese quantities and still thought there was plenty of each. I’m not a huge provolone fan and had trouble finding any (except presliced sandwich cheese) at Trader Joe’s, so I used Pecorino Romano. For the pasta salad I cut it into matchsticks, but that made it too assertive, so I simply shredded it for the kale version and it was perfect. S had added a few pickled cherry peppers to her salad for a bit of heat, and I followed her lead. She also used artichokes, so I bought some for the very first time and dutifully added them in. I guess they bring another vegetable to the mix, but honestly, artichokes do absolutely nothing for me. They hardly taste like anything. I’ve tried them multiple times in many formats and still don’t understand why people seem to be so gaga for them. I’ll finish the jar, but I’m not sure I’ll bother buying any more in the future. Adding arugula to the pasta version of the salad was also S’s idea, and it brings a nice, fresh, green element to what—let’s face it—is not exactly the healthiest salad on the spectrum. It is, however, a substantial, satisfying, protein-rich, all-seasons crowd-pleasing main dish I’ll be making again and again, in both forms.

4 cloves garlic
1 generous tablespoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons lemon juice
¼ cup red wine vinegar
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 (15-ounce) can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 small red onion, peeled and sliced into paper-thin rings
4 ounces Pecorino Romano cheese, coarsely shredded
4-6 ounces sliced salami, cut into ¼-inch ribbons
4 medium or 8 small pickled pepperoncini, sliced into rings
2-4 pickled cherry peppers, diced (optional)
4-6 jarred artichoke hearts, diced (optional)
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved or quartered
For the pasta salad:
12 ounces rotini, cooked, drained and rinsed in cold water
6 generous handfuls arugula
For the kale salad:
1 very large or 2 small bunches Tuscan kale, ribs removed, leaves thinly sliced

1. To make the dressing, roughly chop the garlic and then add the oregano, salt and up to ½ teaspoon ground pepper. Chop the mixture together and use the side of a knife or a mortar and pestle to make a grainy herb paste. Transfer the paste to a small bowl, then add the lemon juice and vinegar. Mix with a fork, allowing the salt to dissolve, then add the oil and whisk until well combined. The dressing should be thick with garlic and oregano.
2. For the pasta salad: Combine the cooled pasta, chickpeas, red onion, cheese, salami, pepperoncini, cherry peppers and artichokes (if using), and cherry tomatoes in a large bowl. Add about half the dressing, toss well, and then add remaining dressing to taste (I used all of it). Adjust seasonings to taste. Fold in the arugula immediately before serving.
3. For the kale salad: Combine the shredded kale with about half the dressing in a large bowl. Toss with your hands, massaging the kale until it becomes tender. Let sit for at least 15 minutes while you prepare the other ingredients. Add the chickpeas, red onion, cheese, salami, pepperoncini, cherry peppers and artichokes (if using), and cherry tomatoes to the bowl. Toss well and add remaining dressing to taste (I didn’t quite use all of it). Adjust seasonings to taste.

Serves: 6-8
Time: 30-40 minutes
Leftover potential: Great. For the pasta salad, store the arugula separately and add one generous handful to each serving directly before you eat it.

PASTA WITH BROCCOLINI AND ITALIAN SAUSAGE

And still another veggie makes its Bookcook debut! Clearly, I’ve been feeling experimental lately. (Is it sad when one of the biggest thrills in your life is trying a new vegetable? Not to me.) I had tried broccolini (which is not baby broccoli, but a hybrid of broccoli and Chinese broccoli that my spell-checker doesn’t yet recognize) a few times on and off over the years and liked it, but it’s started making more reliable appearances at our farmers’ market, so I figured I’d better give a shot for real.

Naturally, I turned to pasta. The sausage-and-broccoli/broccolini/broccoli rabe combo is a classic one, but I had to comb through a surprising number of variations on Google that weren’t quite what I wanted before I found something near enough. I used this recipe from the Weekend Gourmande (adapted from Cook’s Illustrated) as a jumping-off point, doubling it and adding lemon zest and juice for a springy zip (what even is the point of a green vegetable without lemon?). I garnished with basil because I had some that needed to be used up, but it isn’t necessary. While hardly groundbreaking, this is a straightforward and delicious meal that lets the broccolini shine but gives veg-skeptics (ahem, A) enough meaty-spicy-cheesy-savory elements to sink their teeth into.

If you don’t want to shell out for broccolini (or just can’t find it), regular broccoli would work here. I’d love to try it with broccoli rabe sometime, but I’ve never spotted it at our farmers’ market. Broccolini does seem to be an up-and-comer, so maybe its cousin will be next to join the club.

1 pound orecchiette (or a short, curly pasta like rotini)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 pound Italian sausage (hot or sweet), casings removed
4 large cloves garlic, minced
¼ to ½ teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 to 1½ pounds broccolini (about 2 bunches), cut into 1-inch pieces, stems halved lengthwise if thick
1 to 1½ cups chicken broth
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
½ cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus extra to taste

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add the pasta and cook until al dente. Reserve ½ cup of the pasta water before draining.
2. Meanwhile, set a large skillet over medium heat. When it’s warm, add the olive oil and the Italian sausage. Cook until browned, breaking up the chunks with a spoon. Add the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook for 1 minute.
3. Add the broccolini, ½ teaspoon salt, and broth to the skillet. Cover for 2 minutes to steam, until broccolini is bright green. Remove lid and cook until broccolini is tender and most of the stock evaporates.
4. Add drained pasta, lemon juice, lemon zest, and ½ cup Parmesan to the skillet and stir well, adding pasta water as needed to loosen the sauce. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve with additional Parmesan on top.

Serves: 4
Time: 45 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

ASPARAGUS CARBONARA

Despite being a lifelong fan of Calvin Trillin, who has famously claimed that spaghetti carbonara should replace turkey as the national Thanksgiving dish, I had never made (or, I think, even eaten) carbonara before—initially because I was grossed out by undercooked egg yolks, and more recently because I was afraid I would love it insatiably and perilously. But when The Brewer and the Baker posted this recipe last spring, I no longer had good reason to resist. Here we have a two-to-one ratio of springy green vegetables to pasta, perhaps not enough to counteract the richness of the bacon, egg and cheese, but enough to feel like a reasonable one-dish weeknight meal—and, honestly, much more interesting and appealing to me than plain old carbonara.

This is one of those recipes that comes together so quickly, it behooves you to have everything prepped and ready to go before you start. I always thought making carbonara was tricky, but the technique doesn’t get any more advanced than tempering eggs, which basically means stirring a little hot liquid into them so they warm up slowly and don’t immediately cook and congeal. Beyond that, the only hard part is the timing—making sure your noodles and your sauce come together at exactly the right moment. The good news is that if you muck it up a little bit, as I did the first time—foolishly believing that I could simplify things by simply mixing the pasta with the sauce in the hot skillet—and your eggs scramble a little instead of turning into a smooth sauce, it will still taste pretty great. When I returned to this recipe a year later and actually followed the directions precisely, it was even better. Working quickly and confidently is the key…and practice makes perfect, so clearly I’m going to have to try the entire range of spinoff recipes: Roasted cauliflower, my new BFF! Roasted broccoli! Spinach and sweet potato! What vegetable wouldn’t taste amazing in a peppery, smoky-salty, cheesy, magically creamy-without-a-drop-of-cream sauce? (Beets, probably.)

8 ounces spaghetti or other long pasta
1 teaspoon olive oil
4 slices bacon, cut into cubes
¾ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 to 1¼ pounds asparagus, trimmed and cut into 2-inch pieces
1 egg
1 egg yolk
2/3 cup grated Parmesan, plus more for garnish
Salt to taste

1. Heat a large pot of salted water to a boil for cooking the pasta. (If your asparagus is very thick or you like it very tender, once the water boils you can blanch your asparagus in it for a few minutes to give it a head start on cooking, removing it with a slotted spoon to a colander before adding the pasta to the same pot.)
2. Meanwhile, heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Cook bacon pieces to a crisp and remove bacon with a slotted spoon to a large bowl.
3. When the water boils, add the pasta and cook until al dente. Reserve ¾ cup of pasta water before draining.
4. Add black pepper to bacon drippings in skillet and cook for two minutes. Add asparagus and cook about 5 minutes, until fork-tender, stirring occasionally.
5. Whisk egg, yolk, 2/3 cup Parmesan, and ¼ cup very hot pasta water in the bowl with the bacon.
6. Add drained pasta and the contents of the asparagus skillet to the bowl and toss, adding splashes of reserved pasta water to create a creamy sauce. Season with salt to taste and serve topped with extra Parmesan.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

PASTA WITH ROASTED CAULIFLOWER AND SAUSAGE

The Cauliflower Chronicles continue. Of course the surest way for me to enjoy a new vegetable is on pasta, but it took me a surprisingly long time to find the right recipe. Although there are umpteen million variations on the classic cauliflower + pasta + breadcrumbs combo out there, none of my usual sources served up exactly what I was looking for. I definitely wanted the cauliflower to be roasted, because that’s how I’ve enjoyed it best so far. I wanted big, bold flavors, but no olives or anchovies or capers or raisins (all recipe dealbreakers for me, and all frequently found with cauliflower and pasta). And I thought a little meat would make it an easier sell to A. I usually stick to trusted blogs and websites for recipes, but I finally had to resort to straight-up Googling to hunt down this one from the Candid Appetite that seemed to have it all: roasted cauliflower, Italian sausage, breadcrumbs, and plenty of onion, garlic, lemon, and red pepper. (Strangely, the only thing it lacked was cheese, which is kind of a necessity when it comes to pasta in my opinion, so I added a sprinkling of Parmesan.)

I was pleased to discover that I’d chosen well; this recipe is pretty genius. Roasting the cauliflower with lemon juice, red pepper flakes and plenty of salt gives it tons of flavor (although all the liquid does interfere with the browning a bit because the cauliflower basically steams before it starts to roast, and I found I had to keep it in the oven much longer than the recipe dictated in order to get the level of caramelization I was looking for). The acid and spice balance perfectly with the nutty/cabbagey cauliflower, savory sausage, sweet onion, toasty breadcrumbs, and bright parsley for a rich and roasty but still fresh and not-too-heavy meal.

Other than correcting the cheese deficit, my only other change was to use fresh breadcrumbs instead of the odd mix of panko and “plain breadcrumbs” (aka storebought dry breadcrumbs, I guess? Why bother using two kinds?) called for in the original recipe. I’m a panko fan, but I know from past experience that I love the flavor and texture of toasted fresh breadcrumbs in pasta dishes, especially when they get all soft and super-flavor-soaked in the leftovers. I also skipped cooking the parsley with the breadcrumbs, to keep the green taste and color of the fresh herb intact. As for the Italian sausage, I usually default to chicken, but since I was a little concerned this dish would turn out too bland and/or dry (not really having a sauce per se), I went half-and-half with pork and thought it was perfect. It wouldn’t be terrible if you wanted to do all chicken sausage, but that extra little bit of grease and meatiness really amps things up.

The conclusion of this latest chapter in my cruciferous vegetable conquests? It’s safe to say now that I definitely like cauliflower. And what’s more, I’ve found my new favorite pasta.

1 medium to medium-large head cauliflower
4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 medium lemon, juiced
1½ teaspoons salt, divided
1 teaspoon black pepper
½ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 to 1½ cups fresh breadcrumbs
1 pound spicy Italian sausage, casings removed
1 medium red onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
½ cup fresh parsley, chopped
1 pound cavatappi or other curly pasta
Grated Parmesan cheese to taste

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
2. Cut the cauliflower into small florets and place on a baking sheet. In a small bowl, whisk together 2 tablespoons olive oil, lemon juice, 1 teaspoon salt, ½ teaspoon black pepper, and red pepper flakes. Pour over the cauliflower and toss until evenly combined. Shake pan to distribute the cauliflower into a single layer. Roast for about 25 to 40 minutes, stirring the cauliflower and rotating the baking sheet halfway through, until browned and crispy. Remove from oven and set aside.
3. While the cauliflower is roasting, place a small skillet over medium heat. Add one tablespoon olive oil, and when it’s warm, add the breadcrumbs. Toast, stirring often, until breadcrumbs are crisp and golden brown. Remove from heat and set aside.
4. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook according to package directions. Right before draining, reserve 1 cup of the pasta water.
5. While the water is heating, place a large skillet over medium heat and add remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil. Add the sausage and break down with a wooden spoon. Cook until browned, then add the onion and garlic. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and just beginning to brown.
6. When the pasta is drained, immediately throw it into the skillet with the sausage and onion. Add the reserved pasta water, roasted cauliflower, parsley and most of the breadcrumbs (reserve a few tablespoons for garnish). Stir until evenly combined and cook for a minute or two.
7. Serve with a sprinkling of the reserved toasted breadcrumbs, and grated Parmesan to taste.

Serves: 6 to 8
Time: 1 hour 15 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

HERBED SUMMER SQUASH BAKED PASTA

You’d think I would have tried every possible variety of pasta recipe by now, but no—in fact, despite having 73 already logged here, my eye has been roving lately. I’ve stumbled across several new additions to my collection, and this concoction from Smitten Kitchen is the best of them. It may sound crazy to consider making baked pasta in the summer, and sure, I wouldn’t tackle this in the midst of a heat wave, but when the first zucchini start to appear in the spring or you’re still trying to use up the last of your bumper crop in September (or if you’re lucky enough to have air conditioning in the dog days), this is just the thing to satisfy a craving for warm, chewy cheesiness while still keeping things on the lighter, brighter, fresher side with a two-to-one ratio of squash to pasta and a lemony, herb-speckled béchamel. I was surprised how big the flavors were (zucchini and pasta in white sauce might easily add up to bland + bland + bland), and how much I was reminded of mac and cheese—but peppier.

The recipe involves a bit of prep work but not as much as I feared, especially if you have a skillet that can go right from stovetop to oven (I used my enameled cast-iron workhorse). I’d be tempted to double it next time, especially since the recipe notes that it freezes well. I had a bunch of basil to use up, so I sprinkled some over the top before serving, and was definitely not sorry. I made this while A was out of town, scarfed down all four servings during the course of a week, and missed it when it was gone. As soon as the heat dies down, I’ll fire up my oven and make it again…and maybe share it this time, although the chef retains the prerogative to scrape all the crusty toasted cheesy bits from the bottom of the baking pan directly into her mouth.

8 ounces pasta (rotini or other small, curly shape)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 pound mixed summer squash, halved lengthwise and sliced thin
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
Juice of half a lemon
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 cloves garlic, minced
3 large or 5 skinny scallions, sliced thin, white/pale green parts and dark green tops in separate piles
Pinches of red pepper flakes, to taste
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1½ cups milk
¼ cup chopped flat-leaf parsley, divided
1 tablespoon finely chopped mixed herbs of your choice (I used thyme and basil)
Salt and more pepper to taste
¾ cup finely grated Parmesan or Pecorino Romano cheese, divided
4 ounces mozzarella, cut into small cubes

1. Bring a medium-large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Add pasta and cook until just al dente. Drain and set aside.
2. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
3. Heat a large skillet (oven-safe if you have it) over medium-high heat. Add olive oil, and let it heat until almost smoking. Add sliced squash, season with salt and red pepper flakes, and let it sear underneath, unmoved, until golden brown. Continue to sauté until browned and somewhat wilted, about 10 minutes, trying to get some color on each layer before moving it around. Transfer to a bowl and squeeze lemon juice over it. Add more salt or pepper if needed.
4. Reheat the same skillet over medium heat and melt the butter in it. Add the scallion white and pale green parts and garlic and sauté for 1 to 2 minutes. Add flour and stir until it all has been dampened and absorbed. Add milk, a very small splash at a time, stirring constantly with a spoon. Make sure each splash has been fully incorporated into the mixture, scraping from the bottom of the pan and all around, before adding the next splash. Repeat until all milk has been added, then add lemon zest, salt and pepper to taste. Let mixture simmer for 2 minutes, stirring frequently; the sauce will thicken. Remove pan from heat and stir in half of chopped parsley, all of mixed herbs and reserved scallion greens. Adjust seasoning to taste.
5. Off the heat, add drained pasta, summer squash, ½ cup grated Parmesan and all of the mozzarella to the pot, stirring to combine. If your skillet is not oven-safe, transfer mixture to a 2- to 3-quart baking dish. Sprinkle with remaining ¼ cup Parmesan.
6. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until edges of pasta are golden brown. Sprinkle with reserved parsley (I also added some fresh basil) and serve hot. Reheat as needed.

Serves: 4
Time: 1 hour 15 minutes
Leftover potential: Good. To freeze, let dish fully cool to room temperature, then transfer, wrapped well, to the freezer. Let defrost in fridge for a day before rewarming in oven to rewarm at 300 to 325 degrees with the foil on, then finish it for the last 10 minutes or so at a higher heat without the foil.

CHICKEN AND APPLES IN HONEY-MUSTARD SAUCE

I first made this in 2012 but forgot to take a photo. I put it in my “to make again” file and waited until the seasons rolled back around to autumnal weather, when apples and cider and dishes composed entirely of different shades of brown seemed like a good idea again. That time I did snap a picture, but now a few months have passed and the details have faded somewhat from my mind—yet I don’t want to wait yet another year to share this, because it’s one of those simple crowd-pleasers that are good to have in your back pocket (metaphorically, that is; please don’t keep actual food in your back pocket). It’s pretty much what it sounds like: sautéed chicken and apples in a sweet sauce with a mustardy kick. You could eat it on its own, but it’s nice to have a starch to soak up some of that sauce; my Germanic heart went with egg noodles, although rice would also be nice if you are so inclined.

The original post at Simply Recipes notes that the sauce is mild and you can double the cider, honey, and mustard, leaving out the chicken broth, for a more intense flavor. I can’t quite remember, but I dimly recall that I tried that and found it a little too sweet and syrupy for my taste; the broth adds an important savory note. I do like having plenty of sauce to cover my noodles, so I’m thinking one-and-a-half times the cider/honey/mustard measurements plus all the chicken broth is the way to go, and those are the quantities I’ve noted below. A and I both thought onions might also add a good counterpoint flavor, so I might try throwing some in when I add the apples next time. I’ll try to iron out the details when I make this again in fall 2014.

¾ cup apple cider
1½ teaspoons cornstarch
Salt to taste
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
1½ tablespoons honey
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard
½ cup flour
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 medium unpeeled apples, cored and cut into ¼-inch thick slices (use good cooking apples, such as Fuji, Granny Smith, Jonathan, Jonagold, Pippin, or McIntosh)
½ cup chicken broth
Chopped fresh parsley to taste

1. Whisk cider, cornstarch, mustard, honey, and salt and pepper to taste in a bowl. Set aside.

2. Salt the chicken well and dust it in flour. Shake off the excess.

3. In a large nonstick skillet, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the chicken breasts and cook until golden-brown on one side, about 3-4 minutes. Turn chicken, add apples, and cook until the chicken has browned on the other side.

4. Add chicken broth and cider mixture to the pan and bring to a boil. Turn the heat down to low, cover the pan, and simmer until chicken is tender, about 15 minutes.

5. With a slotted spoon, remove chicken and apples to serving plates. (I like to slice the chicken breasts after they rest for a few minutes.) If sauce looks too thin, increase the heat and reduce it slightly. Spoon sauce over chicken and apples and sprinkle with parsley. (If serving with egg noodles, I toss them into the pan with the sauce until they’re well coated and then serve the chicken, apples, and parsley on top.)

Serves: 4
Time: 40 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

PEANUT-LIME CHICKEN RICE NOODLE SALAD

A quick search of my blog archives confirms that this is the time when, like clockwork, I habitually complain that autumn in Los Angeles doesn’t really get started until late October or even November, leaving us sweltering in 100-degree temperatures while the rest of the nation merrily goes apple picking in cozy sweaters. Apparently I am freshly surprised/enraged by this every year. You just get used to having enviable weather, you know? And fall, traditional fall, is so fleetingly lovely and nostalgia-laden that it’s frustrating to miss out on it.

This September seemed especially brutal, with several record-breaking heat waves, and I never thought I’d admit it, but I actually grew tired of tomatoes, corn, and peaches. Luckily, lime, cilantro, and cucumber were still on my cravings list, so it seemed a good time to bust out this refreshing-sounding Asian-inspired salad from Smitten Kitchen. I’d been putting it off because it sounded complicated, and I’m not gonna lie, it is. Amazingly, this is the simplified version, streamlined from the New York Times original, and it still has you making two sauces, marinating and grilling chicken, cooking noodles, and chopping lots of vegetables. It calls for a whopping 21 tablespoons of freshly squeezed lime juice, which for me worked out to nearly 10 limes and a serious case of hand cramps. It also involves more than half a cup of fish sauce, the foul-smelling concoction that I only grudgingly came to terms with the week before and had never used in such quantity, filling my kitchen with an odor that brought the cats running with eager interest while my appetite withered away. At a certain point, I ran out of counter space for the many different bowls, pots, cutting boards, grills, blenders, measuring cups and spoons, and ingredients this recipe demanded, and I began to question my sanity.

But all told, it really didn’t end up taking as long as I’d feared. All the individual tasks are simple, and many (such as the sauce-making and marinating) could be done ahead of time. Most important, the end result was seriously, seriously delicious. There’s a lot of ingredient overlap with last week’s banh mi, but whereas we were ambivalent about those, we flat-out loved this. It’s such a complex layering of flavors and textures, all incredibly fresh and vivid (and not really fishy, thank goodness). It’s substantial and satisfying while still feeling light. The leftovers were even better. Despite the hassle, it’s a keeper, and since I have a half-package of rice noodles left over in the cupboard, you can bet I’ll be making it again soon, without any modifications.

It’s a bit confusing that one of the sauces is called a "dipping sauce" when you never dip anything into it, but I couldn't think of a better name, so dipping sauce it remains. I used jalapenos instead of Serranos or Thai chiles, which was partly due to laziness and partly due to wimpiness in the face of spice, but I reasoned that jalapenos are great with similar ingredients on the banh mi, and they were just fine here. Every now and then I’d get a spicier bite, but for the most part the salad wasn’t very hot, which suited me just fine. Since the Smitten Kitchen post mentioned wanting more vegetables, I doubled the carrot and cucumber quantities. Deb suggested maybe adding sweet red pepper and thin blanched green beans, which would be nice, but then someone in the comments mentioned using edamame and that sounded perfect to me—as, indeed, it turned out to be. A claims not to like edamame, but even he enjoyed them in this context. Winner winner noodle dinner!

Dipping sauce:
6 tablespoons fish sauce
6 tablespoons brown sugar
¾ cup freshly squeezed lime juice
2 garlic cloves, minced
6–8 small Thai chiles or 1–2 Serrano chiles (I used 2 jalapenos), thinly sliced

Peanut dressing:
3 tablespoons fish sauce
3 tablespoons rice vinegar
½ cup + 1 tablespoon lime juice
3 tablespoons soy sauce
1 1.5-inch chunk ginger, peeled and sliced
6 tablespoons natural creamy unsalted peanut butter (I used salted and it was fine)
1 tablespoon sesame oil
Pinch of cayenne

Chicken and noodle salad:
1¼ pounds boneless, skinless chicken thighs
8 ounces dried rice vermicelli or other rice noodles
4 small Persian cucumbers, cut in ¼-inch half-moons
4 medium carrots, thinly julienned
1 cup cooked, shelled edamame
1 handful each chopped fresh basil, mint, and cilantro
4 scallions, sliced
¼ cup crushed or chopped roasted peanuts
Lime wedges for garnish

1. To make the dipping sauce, whisk ingredients in a small bowl, making sure to dissolve the sugar. Let sit for at least 15 minutes. (Can be done ahead; refrigerate and use within a few days.)

2. To make the peanut dressing, in a blender or small food processor, puree all ingredients to a smooth sauce, about the thickness of heavy cream. (Can be done ahead; refrigerate and use within a few days.)

3. To marinate the chicken, stir together about half the dipping sauce and one-third of the peanut dressing in the bottom of a shallow bowl. Add the chicken to the mixture and toss to coat. Let marinate at least 15 minutes.

4. Cook the noodles according to the package directions. Drain when noodles are al dente, and cool under running water. Fluff and leave in strainer to drain well, stirring periodically to keep them from sticking together.

5. To cook the chicken, grill it on an outdoor grill or a stove-top grill pan (I used the George Foreman), or run under the broiler until cooked through and nicely browned, about 3 to 4 minutes a side. Let cool slightly, then chop roughly into ¾-inch pieces.

6. To serve, toss vegetables with 1 tablespoon dipping sauce in a small bowl. Divide the cooked noodles among 4 to 6 bowls. (If your noodles stick together a lot, you might find it helpful, as I did, to toss each portion of them with a tablespoon of dipping sauce now, instead of adding it after the vegetables and chicken; it really loosened them up for me.) Top each bowl equally with vegetable mixture and chopped chicken. Toss each bowl with 1 tablespoon of each the dipping sauce and dressing, or to taste (we used more). Add the herbs, peanuts, and scallions to each bowl and serve with additional dressing and dipping sauce on the side, plus lime wedges to squeeze over the top.

Serves: 4-6
Time: 2 hours
Leftover potential: Great. I was worried because Deb mentioned storing all the ingredients separately, but I pre-mixed all the portions and they stayed as good as (or better than) new, at least for the couple of days before we devoured them all. 

SWISS CHARD AND LEMON RICOTTA PASTA

Can you believe I have more than 450 recipes here (whoa), and not a single one uses Swiss chard? Honestly, I have nothing against the stuff, but ever since I discovered kale it’s been my go-to leafy green, leaving little room for experimentation with others. Then I saw this recipe on Food52 and it spoke to me. Specifically, it said, “Give chard a chance, you moron.” (Chard can be kind of a jerk. Fortunately, it’s pretty and it tastes good.) Also: “Look, I have bacon and lemon and cheese.” Sold!

Somehow I wasn’t really expecting this to taste like more than the sum of its parts, but boy was I wrong: This was a fantastically delicious and well balanced pasta dish. The only change I made was to double the recipe and add the lemon juice as well as the zest, both excellent decisions. In retrospect, I might have increased the cheese quantities just slightly (noted below), and I definitely wanted even more chard. Like all leafy greens, it seems like you’re buying a ton, but it cooks down so dramatically. I bought two large rainbow bunches, dutifully measured out six generous cups, and…that’s all I used. I easily could have added another two cups with the amount I had left over, and looking at the tiny flecks of green in the finished pasta, I wished I had. More greens are never a bad thing.

My vegetable bible, Jack Bishop’s Vegetables Every Day, says that the chard stems cook at a different rate than the leaves, so I didn’t include them even though the original recipe said “including the stems.” Do what you want! I included the thinner rib near the leaf, just not the really thick, celery-like lower stem. If you don’t use them for this, you can always cook them up separately another time. (Which I intend to do next time I make this. Which, by the way, will be really soon. As usual when I write glowingly about a recipe, I am now craving it.)

6–8 cups raw Swiss chard (2 large bunches), sliced (leaves and thinner ribs, but not the thickest part of the stems)
1 pound spaghetti
4 strips bacon, cut into ¼-inch slices
1 large shallot, minced
⅔–1 cup ricotta cheese
¼–½ cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus extra to taste
Zest and juice from 1 large lemon
½ teaspoon salt, plus extra to taste
¼ teaspoon dried red pepper flakes

1. Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil over high heat. Blanch the Swiss chard for 5 minutes. Scoop out the chard with a slotted spoon, transfer to a colander, and drain well, squeezing out as much of the water as possible. Chop again and set aside.

2. Keep the pot of water boiling, and add the spaghetti noodles. Cook until al dente. Remove 1 cup of cooking liquid, then drain the noodles.

3. Meanwhile, fry bacon in a large skillet over medium heat until just crispy. Add the shallot and sauté until soft. Add the Swiss chard and toss well to break up the chard clumps.

4. Combine the ricotta and Parmesan cheeses in a small bowl, and add the lemon zest and juice, ½ teaspoon salt, and red pepper flakes. Add to the Swiss chard mixture in the skillet and mix well.

5. Add cooked spaghetti to the skillet and mix well. Gradually add pasta water as needed to thin the sauce to desired consistency. Serve topped with additional grated Parmesan.

Serves: 6
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: Good.

PESTO CAVATAPPI WITH MUSHROOMS AND TOMATOES

In my misguided youth (specifically, the college and immediate postcollege years), I had a brief but intense love affair with Noodles & Company. It was a new chain at the time, and “upscale” fast food was still a new concept. My tastes, cash flow, and cooking skills were still at beginner’s levels, so a cheap, convenient place that served plentiful pasta in a variety of styles was ideal for my lifestyle. The quality was decent, and while I wouldn’t go out of my way to eat there now, I wouldn’t turn up my nose if it were the best available option in a pinch. Not that I’ve tested this assertion; there are no locations in L.A., so I haven’t eaten at Noodles in at least 8 years. But I’ve still got a soft spot in my heart for it. Recently we visited A’s hometowm of Bloomington, Indiana, where a few years ago the awesome old movie theatre on the main drag closed and was made over into a Noodles & Company location. This is pretty much the height of corporate soullessness, yet as we walked by it and A shook his fist in rage, I’ll admit that a small part of me was thinking, “Mmm…pesto cavatappi.”

Although the macaroni and cheese (with spinach and tomatoes added) was also a favorite, my most-ordered dish at Noodles was always the pesto cavatappi, a delightfully curly pasta shape tossed with mushrooms, tomatoes, and a pesto-white-wine-cream sauce. It suddenly struck me that this is the kind of thing I could easily make for myself now—and make it better, to boot—and that copycat recipes were probably widely available on the Internet. Sure enough, they were, but they all varied widely, and I couldn’t manage to find one authoritative version I was really happy with. Still, it’s hardly rocket science to toss together pasta, homemade pesto, mushrooms, and tomatoes, so I figured I could wing it. This recipe at Cooking With Cristina seemed the likeliest candidate, since it was based on one posted at Yahoo Answers by a supposed former Noodles cook, but I also threw in a few elements (red pepper flakes, garlic) from this version, just for added zip. (I rarely worry that new things I cook will fail spectacularly, but I always fear that they might turn out bland and boring.) I wanted to use a full box of pasta (I love having pasta leftovers in the fridge and hate half-empty boxes in the cupboard), so I tried to increase the other quantities accordingly (and I increased the vegetables even more, because I love vegetable-heavy pasta dishes). I used my own recipe for pesto, which is just the Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook one minus the pine nuts (too expensive, they always seem to go bad before I can use them up, and ever since I started reading about pine nut mouth on the Internet I’ve been mildly afraid of them).

The result was delicious and really did taste like my memories of pesto cavatappi, but it wasn’t pesto-y enough, so I made it again with double the amount. A also thought there could have been more mushrooms, so I doubled those too. These were both excellent decisions. I increased the wine and cream quantities a bit to compensate, although the sauce ended up on the soupy side, so I’m not sure I’d go quite that far next time, which is why I’ve just given a range of measurements below. Overall, this is a wonderfully colorful and flavorful pasta dish that’s easy to make. The wine, cream (such a small quantity it’s indetectible if you don’t know it’s there, yet it adds a luxurious texture), and vegetables elevate it far above basic pasta with pesto, which (maybe because it was one of the first things I learned to cook on my own) always seems a bit dull to me now. A is less passionate about pasta on the whole than I am, but he devoured this one eagerly. I was glad to be able to serve myself a nice dose of nostalgia, but in a way that fits my cooking style today.

2 cups firmly packed fresh basil leaves
1 cup firmly packed fresh parsley sprigs, stems removed
1 cup grated Parmesan or Romano cheese, plus extra to taste
4 large cloves garlic, divided
½ teaspoon salt, plus extra to taste
½ cup + 1 tablespoon olive oil, divided
1 pound cremini mushrooms, sliced
¼–½ teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 pint (2 cups) cherry or grape tomatoes, sliced in half
⅓–½ cup white wine
¼–⅓ cup heavy cream
1 pound cavatappi
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. Place basil, parsley, 1 cup cheese, 2 peeled and quartered garlic cloves, and ½ teaspoon salt in a food processor or blender and puree into a paste. Add ½ cup olive oil and continue to process until the pesto has the consistency of softened butter. There should be about 1 cup of pesto.

2. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook the pasta until al dente. Drain.

3. While the pasta is cooking, heat a large skillet over medium heat and add the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil. When it’s warm, add the sliced mushrooms and sauté for about 5 minutes. Mince the remaining 2 cloves garlic and add them to the skillet along with the red pepper flakes. Cook 1 minute, then add the tomatoes and cook for 5 to 10 minutes, until the mushrooms have released their juices. Add the wine and reduce for about 2 minutes, then add the cream and cook for another couple of minutes, or until most of the liquid has evaporated (you still want some moisture, but the sauce shouldn’t be too soupy). Add the pesto, stir well, and remove from heat.

4. Add the cooked pasta to the sauce and toss well. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve garnished with additional grated Parmesan or Romano cheese.

Serves: 6
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: Great.

ORZO SALAD WITH SPINACH, FETA, AND LEMON

Clearly, even though I keep telling myself I’m not in the market for any more pasta recipes, I am still powerless to resist certain ingredients, and feta and lemon are definitely on the list. This is basically a spring/summer version of one of my favorites, orzo with chicken, lemon, and dill—similar core elements, but cool and refreshing instead of hot and melty, brightened up with lots of green vegetables.

My mouse hand crept relentlessly toward the “Save on Delicious” button as soon as I spotted this Dinner With Julie post in my feed reader. I paused only to think, “Could I add even more green things to this concoction?” After a quick Food Blog Search session, the answer was clear (thanks to this Two Peas and Their Pod recipe): asparagus. That was the only change I made to the original, except that I increased the orzo quantity to use the whole package, and skipped the rice vinegar (which I don’t have) in favor of more lemon juice.

All quantities are pretty much up to you here. I’m not exactly sure how much spinach I used, but I remember thinking there could be more of it; I loved the way its crisp, springy texture contrasted with the softer ones of the pasta and cheese—even after the salad spent several days in the fridge, it magically didn’t seem to get wilted or slimy—and I ended up adding even more of it to the leftovers, until it felt like half pasta and half greens. So I’m guessing at 6 ounces; use whatever seems right to you. Same with the onion; a little raw onion can go a long way, of course, but its crunch and bite are welcome here. And let’s face it, I probably had a heavier hand with the feta. I liked the asparagus, but you could leave it out (and, if you’re making the pasta more than a few hours ahead of serving, you may want to, because asparagus is quicker to discolor when subjected to acid and age). Whatever you do, this is a fresh, incredibly quick and easy, light but satisfying salad that would make a perfect entrée on a hot day or an excellent addition to a picnic, BBQ, or potluck menu.

This is one of those basic discoveries that gets me really excited. Sometimes I glance at a recipe and wonder if it’s really worth my trying, even though it looks tasty, because it seems so simple and overlaps so many other recipes I’ve made before. Because I tend to gravitate toward certain ingredients, I’ve tried a lot of different combinations of them over the years. I try to resist letting my recipe collection balloon out of control; my ideal has always been to have a streamlined, well-curated list of favorites, but of course thanks to the number of food blogs I read and my own need for variety in writing this one, my virtual recipe box is always bulging. I tend to forget the fact (or maybe I just fear it, and the boundless options it represents) that ingredients can be combined in many different ways, and just a small variation can yield brand-new flavors, colors, and textures. In other words, even though this salad didn’t seem surprising or revolutionary to me at first glance (it’s no strawberry pizza, for example), I enjoyed it so enormously that it instantly won a spot in my regular rotation.

1 pound orzo
½ pound asparagus (optional), tough ends trimmed off, sliced into 1-inch pieces
6 ounces fresh spinach, thinly sliced
1 small red onion, finely chopped
4 ounces crumbled feta
Grated zest and juice of 1–2 lemons
2–3 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

1. Cook the orzo according to the package directions; drain well, running under cool water to cool it down, then dump into a bowl.

2. If using asparagus, steam until crisp-tender. Run under cold water to stop cooking, then add to the bowl with the orzo.

3. Add the spinach, onion, feta, and lemon zest to the orzo.

4. In a small bowl, whisk together the lemon juice, olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. Drizzle over the orzo mixture and toss well to coat.

Serves: 6
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: Great. Will keep in the fridge for up to a week.

TORTELLINI WITH SAUSAGE, FENNEL, MUSHROOMS, AND SPINACH

Even though I’m not actively trying to accumulate new pasta recipes (because I already have more than I can make in a year), every now and then I encounter one I can’t resist. I initially struggled to disregard this one when I spotted a simplified version at Dinner With Julie—I mean, it looked tasty, and I love filled pastas, and mushrooms and spinach and sausage go so well together, and I don’t have anything like that in my archives, yet it seemed too basic to be worth breaking my ban—but when I saw that the original Bon Appetit recipe also contained fennel (in three forms, no less: bulb, seeds, and fronds), I caved. Now that seemed special. Plus, it looked like the perfect easy weeknight meal for someone who’d just come back from vacation and wanted to eat some vegetables but hadn’t had a chance to go to the farmers’ market.

I’m not sure if I was just off my game, but this wasn’t quite as quick to throw together as I’d expected. Not laborious whatsoever, mind you, but not effortless…just your standard pasta recipe, basically. I blame the fennel, which always feels awkward for me to deal with, especially because I have to struggle to wrest the fronds away from a cat that is inexplicably obsessed with chewing on them. (Like, he can smell the fennel as soon as I bring it through the door and follows me around until I get it into the fridge. It’s pretty cute, actually.) Plus, I cooked my fennel mixture a bit longer than 15 minutes because I like it super-tender, not crunchy at all. So I guess if you’re looking for an unusually fast dish, try the Dinner with Julie version. But if you love fennel, stick with this one, because it’s going to be right up your alley.

Long story short, this is delicious. I knew the flavors would play well together, but I was still surprised by how much I liked it. The saucy-but-not-goopy texture was particularly delightful; that little bit of cream gives it some unctuousness without descending into heavy cream-sauce territory (in fact, if you hadn’t read the recipe, you might not notice it was there at all). I didn’t really make any changes. I did use chicken Italian sausage, which only comes in the sweet variety at Trader Joe’s, so to add spiciness I put in ½ teaspoon red pepper flakes along with the garlic and fennel seed. I might select a different tortellini next time, though. It cracked me up that the original recipe specifies only “dried tortellini with pesto filling or fresh tortellini with 3-cheese filling.” What happens if you use dried cheese tortellini or fresh pesto tortellini—will the dish explode? Still, I followed the rules and went with dried pesto tortellini, mainly because it handily comes in a 1-pound package at Trader Joe’s, whereas the fresh tortellini comes in odder sizes and I’d have to use something like 1.6 packs to equal a pound. I use the dried cheese tortellini all the time for pasta salad, but I hadn’t tried the pesto variety before and found it a little salty and fake-tasting (it reminded me more of dried basil than fresh). It wasn’t as noticeable in the finished dish, but I think I could do better. Oh, and I initially scoffed at the recipe’s direction to return the tortellini to its cooking pot and then add everything else to it—why not keep things cleaner and easier and add the tortellini, spinach and cheese to the skillet with the bubbling sauce, as in most pasta recipes? I’ll tell you why—because that skillet gets full nearly to overflowing, even before you try to add the bulky-before-wilting spinach leaves. I made a mess of the surrounding stovetop in the process, so I’ve learned my lesson there.

Anyway, despite my reluctance to add to my massive collection, I guess I’ve acquired another favorite pasta recipe, because this one’s a crowd-pleasing keeper.

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large fennel bulb, trimmed, halved through core, thinly sliced lengthwise (about 3 cups), fronds chopped
1 pound spicy Italian sausages, casings removed, sausage coarsely crumbled
8 ounces fresh cremini mushrooms, sliced
4 large garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon fennel seeds, coarsely crushed
½ cup heavy cream
1 cup low-salt chicken broth
1 pound dried or fresh pesto or cheese tortellini
5–6 ounces baby spinach leaves
½ cup finely grated Parmesan cheese, plus extra for serving

1. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add sliced fennel bulb, sausage, and mushrooms; sauté until sausage is brown and cooked through and fennel is almost tender, 12 to 15 minutes. Add garlic and fennel seeds; stir 1 minute. Stir in cream, then broth; boil until liquid is reduced and very slightly thickened, 2 to 3 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, cook tortellini in large pot of boiling salted water until just tender but still firm to bite, stirring occasionally. Drain tortellini; return to same pot.

3. Add sausage mixture to tortellini in pot. Toss over medium heat until blended. Add spinach; toss gently until spinach wilts. Stir in ½ cup cheese. Season with salt and pepper, sprinkle with chopped fennel fronds, and serve with additional cheese to taste.

Serves: 6
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: High.

BAKED PASTA WITH SQUASH, KALE, AND BACON

That’s right, it’s squash and kale, together yet again! What can I say? I’m insatiable, and shockingly, I didn’t already have a recipe that utilized this great combo in pasta form. Add bacon and crème fraiche and I can’t say no. Amazingly, this indulgent-seeming concoction comes to us from Cooking Light. It’s heavy on the veggies and light on the pasta (despite my hatred of not using the full 1-pound package and having random pasta remnants left over in my cupboard, I did follow the directions to use just 12 ounces and it was plenty of food), strategically using small amounts of bacon and Gruyere to deliver big flavor. Of course, if you were to increase the bacon and Gruyere just a bit, you wouldn’t be the only one to do so, judging from the comments and my own experience.

I’m not going to lie: This thing is a hassle to make. You have to roast squash, sauté bacon and onions, boil pasta and kale, and make the sauce all in separate steps, then combine everything and stick it into the oven. Unless you live in a palace, you will use every square inch of stovetop and counter space and dirty a frightening number of dishes. I wouldn’t attempt this on a weeknight, and it won’t even be a regular go-to dish. But I guarantee you, it’s worth the trouble. None of the techniques are difficult and the result is exceedingly tasty, with a good balance of sweetness and salt and smokiness and spice. The sauce is rich and creamy, but thanks to the colorful assortment of vegetables, it doesn’t feel heavy. This is a great way to tempt the kale-phobic, or just to dress up your winter veggies as comfort food.

5 cups (½-inch) cubed, peeled butternut squash
1 tablespoon olive oil
2–4 slices bacon, diced
2 cups vertically sliced onion
1 teaspoon salt, divided
5 garlic cloves, minced
12 ounces uncooked penne or other tube-shaped pasta
4 cups chopped kale
2 cups low-sodium chicken broth, divided
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 cup crème fraîche
½–¾ cup shredded Gruyère cheese

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

2. Combine squash and oil in a large bowl; toss well. Arrange squash mixture in a single layer on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper (or coated with cooking spray). Bake for 30 minutes or until squash is tender; remove squash from oven and set aside, but leave oven on.

3. Meanwhile, cook bacon in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat until crisp. Remove bacon from pan with a slotted spoon and drain on a paper towel-lined plate. Add onion to drippings in pan; cook 6 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add ½ teaspoon salt and garlic; cook 1 minute, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and set aside.

4. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add pasta and cook until almost al dente. Add kale to pan during last 2 minutes of cooking. Drain pasta mixture.

5. Bring 1¾ cups broth to a boil in a small saucepan. Combine remaining ¼ cup broth and flour in a small bowl, stirring with a whisk. Add flour mixture, remaining ½ teaspoon salt, and red pepper to broth. Cook for 2 minutes or until slightly thickened. Remove from heat; stir in crème fraîche.

6. Add squash, pasta mixture, bacon, and sauce to the skillet with the onion mixture (or combine everything in a large bowl if the skillet isn’t big enough) and toss gently. Place pasta mixture in a 13 x 9-inch glass or ceramic baking dish coated with cooking spray; sprinkle evenly with cheese. Bake for 25 minutes or until bubbly and slightly browned.

Serves: 6 to 8
Time: 1½ hours
Leftover potential: High.

SUMMER LASAGNA

I don’t think I’ll make this recipe again, but I couldn’t resist sharing it because it’s so pretty, even with my sloppy construction and poorly lit photography. And maybe someone else will enjoy it more; after all, we didn’t hate it, just found it a bit bland. (It’s also hard to eat, even more slippery than normal lasagna—it deconstructs itself as soon as you put a fork into it.) But layering noodles with cheese and vegetables right on the plate for a refreshing no-bake lasagna (yes, my oven is still broken) is such a clever idea that I’m sure someone with more improvisational skills could adapt it into something amazing. I did make a few additions in an effort to punch up the flavor, and I’m glad I did, because otherwise it would have been totally boring.

The original recipe is from Martha Stewart, but I spotted a link to an adaptation of it in a roundup of summery lasagna recipes at The Kitchn. The adapted version made a few changes to Martha’s recipe, most notably increasing the quantity of the cheeses and basil, which I of course was on board with. Also included in the roundup was this recipe from Rachael Ray, which wasn’t as useful to me because it doesn’t involve noodles (I was looking to get rid of a half-boxful that had been haunting my cupboard for ages), but it did captivate me with its addition of lemon to the ricotta, making it similar to this tasty sandwich recipe in my archives. Further inspired by that sandwich, I decided to add my basil to the ricotta filling as well, rather than just sprinkling it around the finished lasagna. (I also did away with the 2 teaspoons of olive oil in the ricotta—it seemed unnecessary.) And while cooking, I decided to throw some red pepper flakes into the tomatoes to add a little spice.

I was a bit perplexed by how to build the actual lasagna. Martha calls for the noodles to be cut in half, which I did, but that makes them more like long rectangles than the squares shown in the photos, and I ended up trimming the ends off them so they would fit on my plates and not make gigantic servings (they still ended up being generous portions). I noticed that the adapted version has the noodles cut into thirds, which makes more sense, but it still calls for the same total number as Martha does, without explaining what to do with the extras. (If you cut your noodles into thirds, you’d really only need to cook six of them instead of eight, yielding 18 noodle pieces of which you’d use 16, four per serving.) And then since cherry tomatoes are involved, my layers didn’t lay flat, but got all lumpy. The photos at the other sites are a lot prettier than my finished product, but they look like they only contain a fraction of the total filling—a few zucchini slices and tomatoes scattered on each layer. I didn’t want to throw food away, so I ended up with askew, teeteringly high piles. I don’t like recipes that have you cook a bunch of food and not use all of it.

This is an elegant presentation for a summer pasta, but unfortunately it’s more interesting to look at than to eat. Once you bite in and the layers slide every which way (you may want to serve this in shallow bowls rather than on plates), it quickly becomes just tepid noodles, tomatoes, and zucchini in a creamy (but at least lemony, thanks to Rachael Ray) sauce—not unpleasant, but nothing too special. Next time I have noodles to use up, I’ll try stovetop lasagna or lasagna rollups instead.

The chaos!

1 cup ricotta
¼ cup grated Parmesan
Zest of one lemon
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
8 lasagna noodles, broken in half crosswise
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 minced garlic clove
¼ teaspoon red pepper flakes
2 pints cherry tomatoes, halved
2 medium zucchini (about 1 pound total), halved and thinly sliced into half-moons
½ cup torn basil leaves

1. In a medium bowl, combine ricotta, Parmesan, lemon zest and juice, basil, and salt and pepper to taste. Set aside.

2. Cook lasagna noodles according to package directions and drain.

3. Meanwhile, heat 2 tablespoons oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add garlic, red pepper flakes, and tomatoes. Cook until slightly broken down, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a bowl.

3. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon oil to the same skillet and when it is heated, add zucchini. Season with salt and pepper and cook about 5 minutes or until tender.

4. Scatter a few tomatoes over four plates. Top with one noodle, a spoonful of ricotta mixture, zucchini, and more tomatoes. Repeat layering twice, then finish with one more noodle and the remaining tomatoes. Serve, garnishing with more basil if desired.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

BEEF, SPINACH, AND MUSHROOM LASAGNA

We don’t eat much lasagna at Chez Bookcook; A likes the traditional meaty-cheesy variety, whereas I prefer something lighter, more vegetably, and more interesting, so we’re forced to make do with the other 3.7 billion (er, 51 at last count, to be precise) pasta recipes in my repertoire. I’ve only dabbled in making it a few times (my only recorded effort is here) and have never hit upon a recipe I found particularly noteworthy…until now (cue trumpet fanfare).

This iteration from Baking Bites isn’t wildly exotic, but it strikes a perfect balance between the traditional tomato-beef lasagna and my vegetal cravings by adding mushrooms to the sauce and spinach to the ricotta, and it contains just enough cheese to be comforting without being greasy or heavy. It’s kind of like a cross between my spaghetti sauce and stuffed shells recipes, and it pleased both factions in our home equally well. A even got excited over eating the leftovers, which is high praise indeed from him. Plus, it’s fairly easy to make and used up some of the ancient no-boil noodles I had in the cupboard (I know some people don’t care for them, and granted it’s not difficult to boil noodles, but in addition to their convenience I actually like their more al-dente texture). I’m tossing out my old recipes and sticking to this one from now on.

Aside from adding basil to the sauce, the only changes I made to the recipe were by necessity: since my tomato sauce came in 15-ounce cans and my ricotta in a 15-ounce tub, I was a few ounces short on liquids, and my lasagna came out a tad on the dryer side. I may have exacerbated this by squeezing the liquid out of my thawed spinach—the recipe didn’t specify this, but every other recipe I’ve seen that uses frozen spinach calls for it, so I did it as a matter of course. It made for a rather crumbly ricotta mixture; instead of “spreading it into an even layer” on the lasagna, I found myself dabbing it in dollops. So I think I’ll experiment with not squeezing the spinach next time, or at least squeezing it less enthusiastically. For now, I’ve just put “drained” in the recipe, because I don’t think it should be swimming in liquid.

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
2 cups cremini mushrooms, diced
6 cloves garlic, minced
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon dried basil
1 pound lean ground beef
Salt and pepper to taste
32 ounces tomato sauce
10 ounces chopped frozen spinach, defrosted and drained
16 ounces ricotta cheese
⅓ cup Parmesan cheese
1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
9 no-boil lasagna noodles

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

2. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add onions and sauté for 2–3 minutes, until just beginning to soften. Add mushrooms, garlic, red pepper flakes, oregano, and basil and cook for an additional 3–4 minutes, until mushrooms are softened. Add ground beef and cook just until meat is no longer pink, breaking it up with a spatula as it cooks. Add tomato sauce, turn heat to medium-low, and simmer for about 5 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste.

2. While the sauce simmers, combine spinach, ricotta, and Parmesan in a large bowl and mix well.

3. Cover the bottom of a 9-by-13-inch baking dish with about 1½ cups of the tomato-meat sauce. Evenly space three no-boil lasagna noodles on top of the sauce layer. Top noodles with about half of the spinach mixture, spreading it into an even layer. Top with about half of the remaining sauce. Top this sauce layer with three more noodles, followed by the ricotta spinach mixture, followed by the remaining noodles. Pour all of the remaining sauce over the noodles and sprinkle with mozzarella cheese. Cover loosely with a piece of aluminum foil.

4. Bake for 30 minutes, then uncover the lasagna and bake for an additional 10 minutes, or until sauce is slightly bubbly. Allow to cool for about 10 minutes before slicing.

Serves: 8
Time: 1½ hours
Leftover potential: Good.

TORTELLINI SOUP

The only food I remember liking at my college’s cafeteria (besides the always-available salad bar, breakfast cereal, and ice cream, which made up most of my diet) was tortellini soup, which only made its appearance during select weekend brunch services. I recall numerous Sunday mornings on which my roommate, K, and I hauled ourselves out of bed at 11:00 and trudged across campus just in the hope that we might find tortellini soup waiting for us. (I believe I usually ate it with a side of Lucky Charms. Oh, college.) I doubt the soup was very good, but it was better than a lot of the other cafeteria offerings and even at my pickiest, I’ve always loved tortellini.

I hadn’t thought about that soup in years, until I saw this recipe from The Well-Fed Newlyweds featured on the Tasty Kitchen blog, and then I had to make it for old time’s sake. It’s basically a fresher, more flavorful update of the herby tomato broth studded with cheese tortellini that I dimly recall. There’s nothing particularly earthshattering about it, but we enjoyed it well enough to have it again. I like that it has some substance from the pasta, but it’s lighter than eating a big bowl of noodles with sauce, and there’s a generous hit of green goodness from the spinach (I love how easy it is to keep cramming greens into a soup, because they shrink down so easily to unassuming wisps). Best of all, it comes together in no time, making for a simple yet comforting weeknight meal.

I added basil to the ingredients because it’s pretty much a no-brainer when you’ve already got tomatoes, cheese, and oregano involved. I was thinking fresh basil would be great (I’d stir it in at the end with the spinach), but I didn’t have any on hand, so I just used some dried basil along with the dried oregano. I used Trader Joe’s cheese tortellini, but I’d be tempted to try the pesto variety to amp up the flavor even more next time.

1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 small onion, minced (about ½ cup)
½ teaspoon dried oregano
½ teaspoon dried basil
4 cups low-sodium chicken broth (or vegetable broth)
1 15-ounce can whole or diced tomatoes
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 9-ounce package fresh or frozen tortellini, any variety (I used cheese)
3 cups fresh spinach, chopped and loosely packed
Grated Parmesan cheese to taste

1. In a large pot, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and onion. Cook until the onion is softened, about 5 minutes.

2. Add the oregano, basil, broth, tomatoes, and salt and pepper to taste. (If using whole tomatoes, you can break them up with your fingers as you add them to the pot, or break them up with a spoon once you’ve added them to the soup.)

3. Bring the soup to a boil and add the tortellini. Cook according to the package directions.

4. One minute before the tortellini are done, add the spinach. Stir to combine. When the tortellini are cooked, remove the pot from the heat immediately so they do not overcook. Season with additional salt and pepper, if necessary.

5. Serve topped with grated Parmesan cheese.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: Great—tastes even better the next day.

CHEESY CHILI MAC WITH VEGGIES

I’ve never had Hamburger Helper or any other chili mac in my life, but as soon as I stumbled upon this gussied-up homemade version (after following a random assortment of blog links regarding something else entirely) at The Well-Fed Newlyweds, I suddenly had to have it. How could I resist a cheesy, beefy, spicy skillet pasta? What actually attracted me—after the cheese—was that the recipe cleverly adds corn, green chiles, and cilantro for a fresher twist on the classic, and inspired by some remarks in the comments, I snuck in a few more healthy additions: red bell pepper and zucchini. I also swapped in a jalapeno for the canned chiles and dialed back the cheese a little bit. All of these were good changes, but then I had to go ahead and make one more inadvertent adaptation: I misread the recipe and used two 15-ounce cans of tomato sauce (to be fair, that’s the only size they come in at Trader Joe’s, so the existence of a smaller size wasn’t even on my radar), nearly double the amount called for. As you might expect, my finished product was plenty delicious, but decidedly saucy. Considering I’d bulked up the solid side of things by adding more vegetables, using a bit more liquid probably wouldn’t have been a bad idea, but I’m guessing 14 extra ounces was overkill. Granted, If I hadn’t known there was supposed to be less sauce, I don’t think my first remark upon tasting it would have been, “Why, this chili mac has too much sauce!” But knowing I’d made an error, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that I’d thrown the flavor balance and texture out of whack. In other words: We enjoyed this easy, friendly, and unpretentious meal, and I’ll be making it again—but with the correct amount of sauce. Only then shall I render my final verdict.

1 tablespoon canola oil
1 pound lean ground beef
1 medium onion, minced
1 small red bell pepper, finely chopped
1 small zucchini, finely chopped
2–3 teaspoons chili powder (depending on your desired level of spiciness; I think I used 2 teaspoon regular chili powder plus ½ teaspoon chipotle chili powder)
¾ teaspoon ground coriander
¾ teaspoon ground cumin
½ teaspoon salt
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon light brown sugar, lightly packed
2 8-ounce cans tomato sauce
2 cups water
8 ounces (2 cups) elbow macaroni
1 cup fresh or frozen corn kernels (if frozen, no need to defrost)
1 4.5-ounce can chopped green chiles (or 1 large jalapeno, minced)
1½ cups shredded cheese (I used cheddar and pepper Jack), divided
2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped

1. Heat the oil in a large (12-inch) skillet over medium heat. Add the ground beef, onion, red pepper, zucchini, chili powder, coriander, and cumin. (If you’re using a jalapeno instead of canned green chiles, add it now too.) Cook the beef until it is no longer pink, then drain off any accumulated grease, if necessary. (If the beef is really lean, you probably won’t need to drain it.)

2. Add the garlic and brown sugar. Stir constantly for 30 seconds. Stir in the tomato sauce, water, and macaroni. Cover the skillet and cook, stirring occasionally, until the macaroni is cooked through.

3. Remove the skillet from the heat and stir in 1 cup of the cheese and the corn and green chiles (unless you’re using a jalapeno, in which case you already added it in Step 1). Top with the remaining cup of cheese, and cover the skillet. Let the skillet sit for a minute or two until the cheese melts, then sprinkle the cilantro over the top.

Serves: 6
Time: 45 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

PORK MEATBALLS WITH NOODLES AND LEMON-THYME SAUCE

I first made this recipe from The Kitchn about a year ago, but for some inexplicable reason I never posted it (even though I remember taking photos and everything). I’m so glad I suddenly decided to try it again, because it’s incredibly delicious. I’ve never been a particular fan of meatballs, but these are enough to make me reconsider—moist, tender, and flavorful, bathed in a tangy, plate-lickingly addictive lemon-thyme pan sauce. Be forewarned: The sauce will be on the thin side, but don’t worry about it. The more sauce, the better! I think the first time I made this, I kept cooking it down in an effort to thicken it and ended up with too little; I recall the meatballs and noodles being somewhat dry. This time I was in a hurry and didn’t bother letting it reduce much, so my portions were a bit soupy but oh so tasty, with the sauce permeating the meatballs and coating every cranny of the noodles. (If you don’t like noodles, potatoes, rice, or bread would also be good sauce-soaker-uppers.)

I like that this is a substantial dinner (I recommend a nice green salad on the side) but feels so much lighter than the traditional leaden meatballs in tomato or cream sauce. Its citrusy zip will brighten up a dark winter’s day, but you could also enjoy it in the spring…Excuse me now while I enjoy a reverie about how good asparagus would taste dipped in lemon-thyme sauce.

POSTSCRIPT, JUNE 2011: I was on to something up there, because you know what's good in this? Asparagus! Just cut it into one-inch pieces, steam it, and throw it into the pan with the sauce, meatballs, and noodles. The green makes it pretty, the tastes go beautifully together, and you've got a one-dish meal right there. I'm doing it all the time from now on.

½ cup milk
¼ cup breadcrumbs
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
Extra-virgin olive oil
Salt
1 egg
1 pound ground pork
¼ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus extra to taste
4 tablespoons chopped fresh sage leaves
1 teaspoon plus 1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh thyme, divided
⅛ teaspoon cayenne pepper
Freshly ground black pepper
1½ cups chicken broth
¾ cup dry white wine
¼ cup fresh squeezed lemon juice (about 1 lemon)
Zest of one lemon
8 ounces uncooked egg noodles

1. Put the milk and breadcrumbs in a small bowl and mix with a fork. When the crumbs have softened, squeeze out the milk and discard it.

2. Gently sauté the onion in a little olive oil until it is soft but not colored. Season with a pinch of salt and set it aside to cool.

3. In a large bowl, beat the egg with a fork or whisk. Add the pork, breadcrumbs, onion, ¼ cup Parmesan, sage, 1 teaspoon thyme, cayenne, black pepper, and 1 teaspoon salt. Mix with hands thoroughly.

4. Shape the mixture into walnut-sized balls. (I made mine on the small side and got about 40 of them.)

5. Over medium heat, place a skillet large enough to hold all the meatballs in one uncrowded layer. (For extra flavor and convenience, I used the same skillet I’d just used for sautéing the onions.) Add a little olive oil. When the skillet is heated, add the meatballs, shaking the skillet to keep them from sticking. Using tongs to turn so they brown evenly, cook the meatballs until they are no longer pink in the center and lightly browned on all sides. Remove from the skillet to a plate.

6. Add the chicken broth and wine to the skillet and simmer until reduced by about a third. Add the lemon juice and thyme, then return the meatballs to the skillet. Simmer at least 10 minutes, but up to half an hour.

7. Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook the noodles until al dente. Drain and add to the skillet with the sauce and meatballs. Toss well and serve garnished with lemon zest and grated Parmesan.

Serves: 4
Time: 1 to 1½ hours
Leftover potential: Good. If you want, you can do steps 1–4 several hours or even a day ahead (or you could probably freeze the uncooked meatballs as long as you like). Leftovers from the finished dish will keep well in the fridge for a week or so.

FUSILLI WITH SAUSAGE, KALE, AND CHERRY TOMATOES

Autumn is officially here and so is my craving for kale. And sausage. And pasta. But there are still lovely summer tomatoes at the farmers’ market, so this recipe from Serious Eats fit my mood perfectly. I continue to be surprised that I haven’t already exhausted all the possible combinations of vegetables and pasta; not only was this considerably different than any recipe in my arsenal, but it might also be one of my new favorites. Hint: If you’re not sure you like kale, mixing it with garlic, red pepper flakes, fennel, and savory sausage is an excellent way to warm up to it.

My only complaint was that I definitely wanted more tomatoes (even though I’d already increased the amount from the original recipe; I used a whole cup and cut them in half to spread them around, to boot) and possibly more kale. I think I’ve gotten spoiled by Jack Bishop’s veggie-centric concoctions, and I get a little bored if I don’t have equal parts pasta and topping. So I’ve increased the amounts below. I also increased the amount of garlic, decreased the fennel (I love fennel seed and a teaspoon or two is my go-to secret ingredient in pizza sauce and spaghetti sauce, but 2 whole tablespoons seemed like it would be absolutely overpowering, considering most Italian sausage already contains it), and gave you the option of using less red pepper flakes (a teaspoon is quite generous, so start with ½ and see how you feel). But I was really impressed with how well the elements worked together and the way the sausage drippings, tomato juices, pasta water, and cheese made a silky, flavorful sauce (I’d been worried it would be too dry; it’s not the sauciest pasta in town and you can add a little drizzle of oil if you think it needs it, but I think adding extra tomatoes and kale will do the trick nicely). Oh, pasta, will your yumminess never cease?

1 pound fusilli or other short, curly pasta
1–2 large bunches kale, stems discarded and leaves chopped
1 tablespoon olive oil
¾ pound sweet Italian sausage, casings removed and discarded (I used chicken Italian sausage)
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablepoon fennel seeds, crushed (if you don’t have a mortar and pestle, use a meat tenderizing mallet or the bottom of a glass or heavy bowl)
½–1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved
½ cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for topping

1. Bring two pots of salted water to boil: one for the kale and one for the pasta. Cook the kale in boiling water until tender, then drain well and set aside. Cook the pasta until al dente, reserving 1 cup of the pasta cooking water before draining.

2. Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat and add the sausage. Cook, breaking up well with a wooden spoon, until the fat is rendered and the meat is starting to brown. Add the garlic, fennel seeds, and red pepper flakes and continue cooking until the sausage is golden brown and caramelized.

3. Add the blanched kale to the skillet and stir to coat well. Cook for 2–3 minutes, then add the cherry tomatoes and cook until they just begin to lose their shape. Add the drained pasta, tossing to coat in the fat, adding pasta water and Parmesan as necessary to create a sauce. Season to taste with salt and pepper and divide among bowls, topping with remaining Parmesan.

Serves: 6
Time: 40 minutes
Leftover potential: High

ORZO WITH CHICKEN, LEMON, AND DILL

First there was vacation, then recovering from vacation. Now I’m finally ready to get to work on this recipe backlog! Conveniently, cooler weather finally seems to be prevailing across most of the country, so there’s a chance you can actually make this tasty oven-baked dish without breaking a sweat. And you definitely should make this.

I love watching cooking shows (especially while I’m cooking, for some reason), but mostly as pleasant background noise rather than as a practical resource. Usually they’re either making something I already know how to cook or something I wouldn’t care enough to bother with, so I just admire the look of the food and the skill of the chef—not to mention the gorgeously clean kitchen, fancy tools, and shiny dishes. For the latter, Everyday Food is one of my favorite shows. The recipes aren’t always the most exciting (OK, they sometimes verge on stupidly simple) and the delivery is PBS at its blandest, but the chefs just make everything look so damn effortless. It’s got the ruthless efficiency of the Martha Stewart empire, but without the fussiness of the woman herself. It’s pared-down and streamlined and modern—the IKEA of food shows! Well, maybe less hip than IKEA. Anyway, I was watching one day and this recipe was featured. It had me at lemon, feta, and dill. A thought it looked pretty good, too, so I hopped on over to the Web site, bookmarked the recipe, and tried it at the earliest opportunity.

This recipe couldn’t be easier to throw together (heat liquids, mix everything in a pan, bake), but somehow I managed to overcook my orzo. With nearly 10 minutes of cooking time left to go, I peeked in the oven and was surprised to see all the liquid gone; when I tested it, the orzo was already beyond tender and approaching sticky. Instead of the juicy, creamy, risotto-like texture I’d been expecting, it was clumpy and a bit dry. I’m not sure why mine cooked so much faster than the recipe said it would, but I think it’s easily preventable—next time I’ll start checking it after 20 minutes and take it as soon as the orzo is tender (and the chicken is fully cooked, obviously). Because oh yes, there will be a next time. In spite of its texture issues (let’s face it: even cooked properly, orzo is one of my least favorite pasta shapes; it’s too reminiscent of rice, which I’ve always found dull), this was surprisingly unique, delightfully easy, light but satisfying, and deeply flavorful: savory from the broth and chicken, bright from the lemon and dill, and crikey, is there anything more delicious than melty, slightly toasted chunks of feta? Next time, I might add a little more feta. I sort of wanted to try adding something green, too, maybe spinach—there’s no denying this dish is seriously boring to look at—but A thought that sounded like a bad idea, and after all, a green salad on the side mitigates all the whiteness just as well.

I think I just talked myself into making it again ASAP.

Postscript: Making this for the second time, I noticed that the feta quantities seem contradictory; is there any way that just 4 ounces of crumbled feta can equal 2 cups? The first time around, I think I measured by weight, but this time I went by volume and ended up using an entire 8-ounce block of feta. It turned out even more delicious than before (and helped resolve the dryness/overcooking problem), so I'm going to go ahead and cautiously state that you should use 2 cups or 8 ounces.

Also, this time I couldn't get fresh dill and had to use dried instead, which worked better than I expected; if you're in this boat, use 4 generous teaspoons of dried dill to equal 1/4 cup of the fresh stuff.

4 cups low-sodium chicken broth
¾ cup water
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1¼ teaspoons coarse salt
¼ teaspoon ground black pepper
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 pound orzo
2 cups crumbled feta cheese (4 ounces) (8 ounces, in my experience; see postscript above)
¼ cup coarsely chopped fresh dill
2 teaspoons finely grated lemon zest
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

2. In a saucepan, bring broth, water, butter, salt, and pepper to a boil. Meanwhile, in a 3-quart baking dish, combine chicken, orzo, feta, dill, lemon zest, and lemon juice. Pour broth mixture over orzo mixture and stir once to incorporate.

3. Bake until orzo is tender and cooking liquid is creamy, 30–40 minutes. Sprinkle Parmesan on top and let stand 5 minutes before serving.

Serves: 6
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: High