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Month: July 2020

Cooking Up Content: Pasta Primavera

Published by Josh on July 11, 2020
Finished Pasta Primavera
NomNomNom

In the vein of remaining positive about being mostly stuck at home the past four months, I’ve found myself doing a lot more cooking than before. Normally the chief benefactor is me and my stomach (and secondarily the dog and his stomach), but since I’ve got this long-neglected blog here and have been in the mood to write more lately, I figure I’d share.

Today’s adventure: Pasta Primavera (Recipe courtesy Maria Lichty at Two Peas and their Pod)

Pasta Primavera, while sounding incredibly Italian, is a relatively new dish with conflicting origins, invented in the 1970s in America, making it similar to spaghetti and meatballs in that, ordering it in Italy would get you looked at like, well, an American. Not that anyone’s taking an Italian vacation anytime soon.

This version of primavera is a selection of Summer vegetables in a lemon cream sauce over penne, making for a mighty medley of ingredients, textures, and flavors. It’s a solid recipe that takes well to adding some protein. In my case, I cooked up a pound of cut-up chicken beforehand in the same pan the vegetables and cream sauce are made in.

The main issue with making this recipe is that it’s a process for either most of an afternoon or prepping beforehand and making later. You’re going to be cutting up zucchini, asparagus, bell pepper, broccoli, shallot, garlic, lemon (juicing and zesting), tomato, basil, plus anything else you feel like adding. Get your knife sharp and your arm ready. Get yo mise en place.

Mid-cook
Mid-cook

Overall, it’s a fantastic meal, which makes at least 6 actual person-sized servings. Flavors of lemon, cream, tang from the tomatoes, a little kick from the crushed red pepper, plus a solid body of penne and a varied crunch from the veggies. I’ve made it twice now and, though it takes an effort, it’s well worth it. Great for a weekend dinner and then a few weekday lunches to follow.

Hazy Florida Memories

Published by Josh on July 10, 2020

No idea why but a memory came back to me just now:

It was late, well past the dozing hours and into the deep hours of sleep. I was up, because I can’t help but try and stretch each day to the breaking point and, being unemployed, waking and sleeping held no regiment.

I was on the back porch, sitting on an uncomfortable outdoor sofa (not one designed for living outdoors but a sofa made extraneous, after it had been replaced, repurposed to live outside until Florida did to it what it does to all things in time: moistens and dampens and rots them until they become another uneven patch of the endless swamp) that had been “fixed” by inexpertly placing a slab of plywood inside it, taking no consideration for aesthetics or comfort into mind, smoking another cigarette (for I always managed to scrape enough money or goodwill together to keep smoking) and reading. I think it was Hemingway.

Anyway, it’s quiet, for a Florida night, only the thrum of the patio ceiling fan above and the chirping of frogs or insects or etcetera sounding, when something foreign breaks through. Brassy and stated. At first it might have been a peculiar car horn or an odd toad, but it gained in volume and variance as it approached. Once it was loud enough it was clear that it was a trombone. Notes sliding between each other, blending into one another rather than sharp like a saxophone or the taut marching of a trumpet. A one man band walked down the side of the road beyond the tall brick wall ringing the yard, playing a tune of its own to an audience of the night, the wind, the wild, and me. A walking beat, jazzy but stated, moving its way down the road and rambling off into the distance.

I stayed up the next two weeks deep into the night to try and catch it again but never did, never heard it return. Never caught a sound or simmer of the song since, not in daylight or afternoon or evening. Never saw anyone who could have played it. It lives on in memory, a joyful solo performance with no expected audience but those it found, in the thick of the night, like me.