Whole Wheat Linguine with Kale and Sausage

Dating is a challenge.  Even if you’ve been married for 40 years, if you imagine the quest of seeking a suitable partner that will both help keep the house clean and give you butterflies in your stomach, I’m sure you will be able to flirt with the magnitude of this process.  Like most things in life, it’s usually best to enjoy the journey, instead of focusing on the end result; in dating, this means that sometimes you spend time with people that you know aren’t ultimately right for you, but you’re enjoying the ride and it’s nice to have some company from time to time.  This is exactly where I was with my last quasi-relationship, which is really a rare and beautiful place to be.  Heartbreak is not part of the equation because you’re not in love, but there also must be some sort of conclusion at some point.  Ideally, the conclusion will manifest itself in a natural and respectful manner.  I’m sure my readers are all very respectful people, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that text messages are not considered to be one of the respectful ways to end an affair, even if the premise was casual and low-commitment.  The problem was not that the involvement was concluded, but the means of message delivery was inappropriate.  I think it’s safe to say that anything beyond 3 or 4 dates requires an actual phone call, as opposed to some sort of electronically transmitted text. 

With a phone call, I would have seen said involvement as fun, and purposeful, but the text message breakup cheapened the experience.  It left a bitter taste in my mouth.  So I embarked on a three-step process to wash that man out of my hair.  The first step was to literally wash my hair; a hot shower can be a profoundly symbolic gesture in letting go of the old, and being prepared for a fresh start. Next, I got a pedicure; you can only take the missteps of others so seriously when your toenails have been freshly painted a color dubbed “Cajun Shrimp.”  Last, I indulged in a home cooked meal that was both satisfying and nourishing, and also one that I knew my former beau would not have enjoyed, but suits my taste perfectly. 

Enter whole-wheat linguine with kale and sausage.  I adapted this dish from my newest cookbook, cheekily titled “50 Shades of Kale” (completely ridiculous, I know, but I do attest that it was the most creative and compelling of the 5 kale-based cookbooks at Peppercorn, the local culinary retail Mecca of Boulder).  This dish is very simple, but it has all the best things in it: pasta, cream, white wine, garlic, crushed red pepper, sausage, and loads of kale. The recipe called for whole-wheat linguine, which is not my favorite.  In general, I feel like it’s not quite worth it; if you’re going to indulge in pasta, go for the real thing: tender, toothsome, silky strands, not their cardboard-esque, healthy cousin.  But I went against my usual stance because I felt that the hearty combination of the cream, sausage, and kale might be enough to balance out the rustic texture of the whole-wheat pasta.  This turned out to be an excellent judgment call.  This was definitely the right sauce for the job, but I also think I may have inadvertently chosen the best whole-wheat pasta on the market: Whole Foods Organic Whole Wheat Linguine.  It had the heartiness you expect from whole grains, which stands up nicely to the cream, without the woody or chalky quality that I so frequently encounter in whole-wheat pasta.  Delicious, satisfying, spicy, creamy, slightly acidic from white wine; this dish confounded the bitterness that text message left me with, and leftovers to boot.   

Whole Wheat Linguine with Kale and Sausage (adapted from 50 Shades of Kale)

1/2 pound mild Italian sausage

3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

1 teaspoon red pepper flakes, divided

10 ounce bunch of kale, stems removed and coarsely chopped

1/2 cup white wine

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1/2 cup heavy cream

1/2 pound whole wheat linguine

Parmesan cheese for garnish

-       Cook the linguine in a large pot of salted, boiling water, al dente, per package instructions.  Reserve approximately 1 cup of pasta cooking water; drain pasta and set aside.

-       In a large skillet preheated over medium heat, sauté the sausage, breaking it apart, until cooked though.

-       Add the garlic and half of the hot pepper flakes, and sauté for 1 minute.

-       Add the kale and the white wine, scraping up any brown bits off the bottom of the pan.  Season with salt and pepper.  Sauté for about 5 minutes, until the kale is wilted, and starts to become tender.

-       Add the cream, and cook for about 5 minutes more.

-       Toss in the pasta and enough pasta cooking water to make the mixture slightly saucy.  Garnish with Parmesan cheese. 

Easter Egg Pasta

The most recent issue of Bon Appétit is pretty brilliant; while I read it every month upon arrival in my mailbox, this month’s copy has myriad recipes that I truly want to make, flagged with hot pink Post It notes.  On the list of intriguing items, there was a short article on various uses for leftover Easter Eggs.  Though I don’t celebrate Easter, but I do enjoy eggs.  One of the recipes was for a garlic-olive oil-anchovy-based pasta that was finished with grated hardboiled eggs and parsley.  I would never in a million years imagined adding hardboiled eggs to my pasta, but the rest of the ingredients are some of my all time favorites, and the addition of the eggs was intriguing enough for me.

I have been a long time fan of pasta dressed in garlic-lemon oil, and finished with a ton of parsley and Parmesan.  There are many variations to this theme:  a little anchovy paste sautéed with the garlic; a few capers; olives; a splash of white wine.  Nonetheless, the result is always some version of lemony, bright, garlicky pasta, with a healthy dose of freshness from plenty of chopped parsley and salty Parmesan.  It’s a recipe for success. 

This Easter-inspired version is exactly that with the addition of hardboiled egg.  It’s certainly a strange idea, but I enjoyed it at every turn.  For starters, I’ve never grated an egg before, which turned out to be a satisfying experience.  Using the large holes of a box grater, the soft egg all but disappeared with a few stokes, resulting in stands of egg white and crumbles of egg yolk, ready to absorb the salty, rich dressing on the pasta.  The richness of the egg juxtaposes nicely against the coarsely chopped parsley leaves, which render this dish almost to a salad like state. 

This dish is rich, but well balanced.  I did not skimp on the anchovy paste, which was evident in the toasted brown color that the pasta took on when it was tossed with the spicy, anchovy-infused oil.  This richness is then tempered by multiple elements.  The first and most obvious is the parsley leaves; peppery, a little lemony, and decidedly green in flavor, they impart lightness with both their flavor and texture.  Ironically, the egg also lends levity that is unexpected.  The yolks and whites act in very different ways.  The yolk coats the pasta and absorbs the olive oil-based sauce, softening the flavors from preserved fish and red chile flakes.  On the other hand, the egg whites provide lightness with tenderness and little volume.  Basically, they prevent the pasta from being construed as a big, dense heap of carbs, a noble and necessary task.  I’m sure the entire idea sounds bizarre (hardboiled eggs in pasta?), but it was quite delightful.  And a senior food editor at Bon Appétit created this concoction, not me, so hopefully that indicates that this is a legitimate recipe, as opposed to me losing my mind with my pasta-loving ways. 

Easter Egg Pasta (adapted from Bon Appétit)

Makes 2 servings

1/4 pound short cut pasta, like campanelle or fusilli

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 cloves garlic, minced

1/4 teaspoon red chile flakes

1 teaspoon lemon zest

2 teaspoons anchovy paste

3 tablespoons finely grated Parmesan

1 tablespoon lemon juice

1 1/2 tablespoons capers

2 hard boiled eggs, coarsely grated

1/2 cup coarsely chopped Italian parsley leaves

-       In salted boiling water, cook pasta until it is al dente per package directions.  Reserve 1/2 cup of the cooking water, and drain the pasta.  Set aside.

-       In a sauté pan, cook garlic, red chile flakes, lemon zest, and anchovy paste in the olive oil for about 3 minutes.

-       Add pasta to the pan, and toss to coat.  Season with freshly ground black pepper.

-       Add lemon juice, capers, and Parmesan.  Add a few tablespoons of the reserved pasta cooking water if the mixture seems dry. 

-       Add the parsley and hard-boiled eggs.  Garnish with more cheese and parsley if desired.

Artichoke Pasta with Lemon Grilled Chicken

I really shouldn’t go into a lot of detail here.  It is simply unnecessary, but I can’t help myself.  This delicate pasta recipe should sell itself with its classic flavors, imprinted with the latest psycho cooker trend: grill everything.  This light summery pasta is full of flavor.  I started with a simple marinade for chicken breasts, consisting of a few ingredients with big flavors: white wine, fresh lemon zest/juice, extra virgin olive oil, and a few tablespoons of fresh thyme.  I whisked the ingredients together in a wide shallow dish, so my chicken cutlets could take a languid swim in this tart concoction (albeit a brief dip; this marinade is highly acidic, so only let those tender birds hang out in there for 20-30 minutes maximum).

In the meantime, I preheated my grill to medium, put a pot of water on for pasta, drained my artichoke hearts, and chopped up some garlic and herbs.  That’s all the chopping that is requiring assuming you buy quartered artichoke hearts.  Grilling the chicken is simple: when they have a nice char and feel firm, they are done.  And they will smell intoxicatingly delicious.  This can be done at any time, unless you refuse to eat food that is anything but searing hot.  The sauce for the pasta is put together in a single skillet, and I like to take the cooked pasta directly from its pot to the saucepan.  This will allow you to skip washing a strainer and you will get just the right amount of starchy pasta water from the get go. 

The sauce… a little bit of garlic, olive oil, white wine, chicken stock, and lemon juice.  It’s a brilliant combination; I wish I could take credit for it, but instead I will tip my hat to a nameless, faceless Italian grandmother.  When the sauce comes together, the artichoke hearts go in to heat through, and a little bit of butter is nice for an increased luxurious quality.  Other than that, everything else will go in, uncooked, after the pasta has been added (capers, baby spinach, handfuls of fresh herbs, parmesan cheese, copious amounts of black pepper).  Once I reached my desired balance of flavors and textures (a little extra pasta water, another grind of pepper, etc. etc.), I topped the delicate curls of angel hair with the sliced grilled chicken.  The pasta would be delicious on its own: tart, clean, bright, and balanced.  However the smokiness of the chicken adds a powerful extra flavor dimension.  And the chicken’s absence would have made my grill feel left out, and I just can’t have that.

Lemon-Thyme Grilled Chicken

1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, sliced into 4 cutlets

1/2 cup white wine

Zest and juice of 1/2 lemon

1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

-       Whisk together the white wine, lemon zest/juice, thyme, and olive oil in a wide, shallow dish

-       Lay chicken cutlets in marinade, and let sit in the refrigerator for about 20-30 minutes, flip occasionally.

-       Preheat a grill to medium heat.  Season marinated chicken cutlets with salt and pepper and grill on each side until cooked through, about 4-5 minutes per side.

Artichoke Pasta

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 small clove garlic, minced

1/4 teaspoon hot pepper flakes

1/2 cup white wine

3/4 cup chicken stock

Juice of half a lemon

1 can quartered artichoke hearts, drained and rinsed

1 tablespoon butter

2 tablespoons capers

2-3 big handfuls baby spinach

Fresh herbs to tastes (I used basil and parsley)

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

8 oz. angle hair

Freshly grated Parmesan cheese

-       Place a large pot of water on high heat to come to a boil.

-       In the meantime, preheat oil in a large skillet over medium heat.  Add garlic and hot pepper flakes, and sauté for one minute.

-       Add white wine and simmer until reduced by half.

-       Add chicken stock and simmer until reduced by almost half.

-       Add artichokes hearts, lemon juice, and season liberally with salt and pepper.

-       Add butter.

-       While artichokes are heating through in the sauce, cook pasta until just shy of al dente (this will only take a few minutes, and the pasta should be slightly underdone as it will cook more in the sauce).

-       Add the pasta with tongs directly into the sauce (don’t worry if some of the cooking water comes with it).

-       Add spinach and capers.  Toss to combine.  Add more pasta water if it seems dry.

-       Check for seasoning, and add if necessary.  Then toss with herbs and cheese if desired.  Top with sliced grilled chicken.

Bacon and Tomato Pasta

Sometimes I like to put bacon on my pasta.  I think most people would find that at least slightly appealing.  The idea for the recipe just came through me; it was so organic (name that movie reference).  But seriously, the other night it was snowing after a solid month of 70-degree weather, and I felt obligated to make something comforting and to take the opportunity to enjoy the heat of my stove.  A slow-simmered tomato sauce was the answer.  It had a healthy dose of white wine in it, lots of tomatoes, and as promised, bacon.

The key to success here is making the sauce extra bacony.  This is not necessarily achieved by adding copious amounts of bacon.  Rather, this is done by both starting and ending with bacon.  You start by crisping up some chopped bacon in a saucepan.  When it is browned and beautiful, and it has relinquished plenty of fat into the pan, you remove about two-thirds of the bacon.  This will go on top of the pasta at the end.  The rest of the bacon remains in the pan along with the bacon grease, and the browned up bacon fond, and thus bacon permeates the sauce.  There is also about a cup of white wine in this sauce.  This may be a little extreme for some tastes, but I absolutely love the tangy, acidic flavor.  This sauce is also heavy on tomato.  It is present in two forms: canned, chopped tomatoes, and tomato paste.  Overall, the theme here is BIG FLAVOR. 

Bacon and Tomato Pasta (2 generous portions)

4 slices thick cut bacon, chopped

1 tablespoon olive oil

1/2 red onion, diced

2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced

2 tablespoons tomato paste

1 cup dry white wine

1-14 oz. can chopped tomatoes

1/2 cup water

Kosher salt and pepper

1/2 teaspoon hot pepper flakes

2-3 tablespoons chopped flat leaf parsley

1/2 pound long thin pasta (I used spaghetti rigati)

Freshly grated parmesan cheese

-       Add bacon to a medium saucepan and cook over medium heat.  Cook for about 10 minutes, stirring frequently, until the bacon is crisp. 

-       Remove about 2/3 of the bacon to a plate lined with paper towel to drain.  Reserve for later use.

-       Pour off all but about a tablespoon (or two) of the bacon grease.  Add 1 tablespoon of olive oil and the chopped onion.  Season with salt, pepper, and hot pepper flakes.  Sauté for 10 minutes, until onion is soft.

-       Add garlic and tomato paste.  Cook for 1-2 minutes.

-       Add white wine, bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer.  Cook, stirring frequently, for 10-15 minutes, until mixture has reduced by half.

-       Add chopped tomatoes, 1/2 cup water, salt and pepper.  Simmer for 20-25 minutes.

-       Meanwhile, bring a large pot of water to a boil and cook pasta according to package directions.  Reserve about a cup of cooking water before draining pasta.

-       Toss pasta, sauce, and parsley together.  Add cooking water as needed to keep sauce moist and unctuous. 

-       Serve pasta with a sprinkle of bacon and lots of cheese.

Braised Kale and Linguine

Confession: up until I made this recipe, I have had a fear of cooking kale.  I like kale, although I have not had many opportunities to eat it.  Obviously, it is a super trendy super food at the moment, but I have been paralyzed by fear around actually cooking it.  I have spent some time trying to concoct a kale-based recipe that I would feel comfortable cooking.  My foresight and thought have thus far been unproductive.  Lucky for me, a specific incident catapulted me out of my trepidation around kale into a place of genuine curiosity.  It was the kale display at Whole Foods: tall piles of Dino kale, red curly kale, green curly kale, tucked amidst mustard greens, and various types of chard.  It was so fresh, and beautiful, and leafy.  Since I laid eyes on it, I’m still trying to figure out where my intimidation came from.  After seeing this magnificent display of vegetation, I meditated on how I would use one of those meticulously wrapped bundles. 

I spent some time digging around on Foodgawker, and lemony, garlicky kale paired with silky strands of pasta seemed to be a pretty pervasive preparation.  Obviously, these are some of my favorite flavors, so it seemed like an appropriate initiation between me and kale.  I returned to Whole Foods and picked out the perfect bunch of red kale, and constructed the pasta dish below.  Why red kale?  I have no idea.  It was pretty; perhaps it should be called purple kale.  Most recipes I saw used green kale, so if I unwittingly committed some sort of kale faux pas, please let me know.

Overall, this recipe is pretty simple.  First, I gave it a rinse and tore leafy chunks off the stalk.  I never actually used a knife on the kale.  Then I sautéed some thinly sliced garlic in olive oil with a bit of red pepper flakes, until the garlic was fragrant.  Then I added the kale.  I needed a huge sauté pan, and the kale still barely fit before it wilted (the bunch was just under a pound).  I tossed the kale around in the oil to allow it to begin wilting, and then I added about a quarter cup of white wine and about a half cup of chicken stock. 

At this point, I added a sprinkle of salt and pepper, and a tiny bit of nutmeg.  Nutmeg is a new addition in my spice repertoire, and I love it.  Rachael Ray is always raving about nutmeg on dark greens, and although I don’t exactly revere her as a culinary god, she’s not wrong about everything.  The nutmeg added another peppery dimension that echoes, but does not mimic, black pepper.  It’s very fragrant and fills your nose with a warm, spicy smell, registering somewhere between savory and sweet.  Then I simply let the kale cook down for about 10 minutes.  I tossed it with fresh lemon juice, hot linguine, and some reserved pasta cooking water.  And topped the whole thing off with some Parmesan.  It was delicious and felt like I was doing something good for my body, which was necessary after a long series of immune-system-compromising events (e.g. concerts, spring break celebrations).  Kale will cure what ails you, even if the ailment is actually too much fun.

I made this pasta last Sunday, when my spring break was just starting, and now as I write, it is coming to a close.  (Sigh.)  As much as I would love for it to continue, I couldn’t be happier with how I’ve spent this last week: soaking up sunshine; taking a slew of new yoga classes; going a for beautiful road ride to Eldorado Springs; cooking; reading; writing; connecting with old friends and new.  It has been what spring break should be: rest, relaxation, rejuvenation, and fun.  I will have to figure out the perfect Sunday night dinner to bookend such a lovely week.  More on that later.

Braised Kale and Linguine (makes 2 generous servings)

1 bunch curly red kale, washed, stalk removed, torn into chunks

1/3 lb. linguine (approximately)

3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

3 tablespoons olive oil

¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

¼ cup white wine

½ cup chicken stock

Kosher salt and pepper to taste

1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg (4 tiny shakes from the container)

Juice from ½ lemon

Freshly grated Parmesan cheese

-       Put a large pot of water on the stove to boil for the pasta.  Meanwhile, prepare your kale: give it a good rinse and tear the leaves in chunks off the stalk and set aside.

-       In a large sauté pan, preheat olive oil over medium heat.  Add sliced garlic and hot pepper flakes to the oil.  Allow to sauté for 1 minute and add pasta to the boiling water with some salt.

-       Add the kale to the sauté pan (just shove it in there until it starts to wilt).  Gently stir it to begin distributing the olive oil on the kale.

-       Add the white wine, chicken stock, salt, pepper, and nutmeg.  Stir to combine and increase heat so that liquid begins to simmer.  Allow the kale to braise for about 10 minutes at medium heat.  If it’s done before the pasta, just turn off the heat and add the lemon juice.  Taste it for seasoning and add a generous amount of Parmesan.  Stir so the cheese begins to melt.

-       When the pasta is done, add it to the pan (I like to add it directly out of the pasta pot to the pan with tongs; otherwise reserve some pasta water, then drain it and add it to the pan).

-       Stir to combine adding additional seasoning, lemon juice, and cheese to taste.  If the mixture seems dry, add pasta water, a tablespoon or two at a time.  Garnish with a little more cheese and enjoy!

Blackened Chicken Pasta

On the off chance that you don’t have enough decadence planned for your Thanksgiving festivities, I recommend indulging in this delicious Cajun pasta.  I actually made this a few weeks ago.  Usually, my intrinsic motivation can tolerate about a one-week delay between cooking and writing.  I rarely retrieve the necessary motivation to write outside of that timeline, but this pasta defied my usual patterns.  I had to share it; it was that good.

Those clowns at the Food Network have come up with yet another enticing gimmick: a show called The Best Thing I Ever Made.  A smattering of “Food Network Stars” use their licentious foodie language and provide recipes for delectable items like lamb kebabs, mushroom polenta and… blackened chicken pasta.  It’s a Guy Fieri recipe: blacked chicken, tossed with fettuccine and a cream sauce, flavored with white wine, garlic, and sundried tomatoes.  Guy Fieri is a goof, but charming in his own dorky way.  His pasta is as lush and tasty as you might imagine creamy pasta to be.  I added some tomato puree to the sauce for some acidity and color, and I would definitely recommend that addition (included in my version of the recipe below).  I used canned tomato sauce (which is really just tomato puree with some spices).  The quantities specified below are approximations, but do what looks and tastes right to you.

 

The best part of this recipe is the spice rub.  Not only is it delicious, but it is so much fun to make.  I don’t understand why I found its assembly so enjoyable, but I grinned like a fool throughout.  The process is simple: measure and dump spices in a bowl, enjoying the aromas and colors along the way.  Then chicken breasts are coated with the rub, and placed them in a very hot pan.  The smell of the spice rub searing on the chicken is intoxicating.  I think the primary culprits contributing to the smell are the cumin and the Italian herb blend, but I’m sure every ingredient plays its part.  The spice rub did not render the dish particularly spicy.  This may be exactly what you want to hear, or you may want to add an extra teaspoon of cayenne, if the news of the mildness is disappointing. Or, you can do what I did: season the whole pasta dish at the end with hot pepper flakes.  Either way, finish it with plenty of Parmesan cheese and enjoy.

 

Blackening Spice

1 tablespoon granulated garlic

1 tablespoon freshly cracked black pepper

½ tablespoon salt

2 teaspoons ground cumin

2 teaspoons granulated onion

1 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1 teaspoon Italian seasoning

1 teaspoon paprika

½ teaspoon chili powder

Combine the garlic, black pepper, salt cumin, onion, cayenne pepper, Italian seasoning, paprika and chili powder in a small bowl. Store in an airtight container.

Blackened Chicken Pasta (recipe adapted from Guy Fieri)

2 skinless chicken breasts (½ to ¾ pounds)

Blackening Spice Rub

1 tablespoon vegetable or canola oil

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 clove minced garlic

½ cup dry white wine

1 cup heavy cream

1 ½ cups canned tomato sauce

½-¾ cup roughly chopped marinated sun-dried tomatoes

½ pound fettuccine

¾ cup grated Parmesan

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Hot pepper flakes (optional)

2 tablespoons minced flat leaf parsley

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Heat a medium skillet and vegetable oil over high heat.

Dredge the chicken breasts in the Blackening Spice Rub. Place in the skillet. Blacken both sides of the chicken, 3-4 minutes per side.

Transfer the chicken to a baking dish and place in the oven until the internal temperature of the chicken reaches 165 degrees F on an instant-read thermometer, about 10-15 minutes.

 

Remove from the oven, allow to rest, then slice the chicken.

In a large skillet over medium heat, heat the olive oil. Add the garlic and lightly sauté it for 1-2 minutes. Stir in the wine. Allow it to reduce by half.  Pour in the heavy cream and tomato sauce, bring to a simmer and cook until for about 5-10 minutes, simmering gently. Add the sun-dried tomatoes and chicken slices.

Meanwhile, cook the fettuccine al dente, according to the package directions. Drain.

When the cream sauce is at the desired consistency, stir in 1/2 cup of the Parmesan, pasta, and about ¾ of the parsley.  Season to taste with salt and pepper (and hot pepper flakes, if using).

To serve, toss the pasta with the cream sauce.  Garnish with the parsley and the remaining ¼ cup Parmesan.

Pasta With Chicken and Mushrooms, Risotto Style

When I’m cooking and blogging, I try to maintain a semblance of balance in my choices.  Ideally, I would avoid my recipe archives being so heavily laden with tales of cheese and carbohydrates.  However, this notion of blog-balance is an art I am yet to master.  There are certain ingredients that are undeniably “psycho,” and this post reeks of them.  This pasta is flavored with onions, mushrooms, and chicken.  It is prepared like risotto: by adding small increments of chicken stock to the simmering pot until the pasta is cooked through.  Everything cooks together in chicken stock.  Unlike traditional pasta cooking methods, the liquid is never strained.  Instead, it is added gradually, so all the flavors in the ingredients are self-contained. If you are not a fan of mushrooms, I would recommend you stop reading here and go make yourself a nice grilled cheese sandwich.  The mushrooms are the crux of this dish, and nothing else will do in their place.

The recipe below is courtesy of Mark Bittman and I made minimal changes.  (He is smart, although allegedly obnoxious.  I have never seen him do anything on TV, and I would like to keep it that way, so I can remain blissfully ignorant of any truth in the obnoxious allegations).  To be honest, I was a little trepidatious about the method of cooking the chicken: raw chunks of chicken are added towards the end of the cooking process.  I’m sure my mother is gasping in horror at the slightest notion of cross-contamination.  However, I followed the method and I have lived to tell the tale with no gastrointestinal distress.  Just keep stirring the pasta so that the chicken can cook evenly and thoroughly.  Make sure the liquid continues to simmer, and add more stock if you need it.  Also, wash your cooking utensil halfway through, and make sure to slice open a few chunks of chicken before eating to check for doneness.  You will be just fine.

The recipe below includes the minor changes I made in italics.  Next time, I would definitely add peas.  This recipe was practically screaming for peas.  The earthy flavor and texture of mushrooms would pair just beautifully with the sweet pop of peas.  I would recommend taking about a half cup out of the freezer before cooking to thaw, and adding them at the end, stirring to heat through.

Pasta With Chicken and Mushrooms, Risotto Style (adapted from Mark Bittman)

2 tablespoons olive oil, more as needed

1 small onion, chopped

1 tablespoon minced garlic

2 cups crimini, shiitake or button mushrooms, cleaned, trimmed and sliced (I used half button mushrooms and half oyster)

1/2 pound cut pasta, such as gemelli or penne, or long pasta broken into bits (I used rotini, but would have gone for gemelli if I could find it)

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1/2 cup dry white wine or water (I left this out)

3 to 4 cups chicken or vegetable stock (definitely use chicken stock)

½ to 1 tablespoon Dijon or whole grain mustard (optional.  It was an impulsive, but delicious addition)

2 boneless chicken thighs, diced

Chopped fresh parsley

Freshly grated Parmesan

1. Put 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large, deep skillet over medium heat. When hot, add shallot, garlic and mushrooms. Cook, stirring occasionally, until mushrooms soften and begin to brown on edges, about 10 minutes. Add pasta and cook, stirring occasionally, until it is glossy and coated with oil, 2 to 3 minutes. Add a little salt and pepper, then wine. Stir and let liquid bubble away. (Or skip the wine and go right step two)

2. Ladle stock into skillet 1/2 cup or so at a time, stirring after each addition and every minute or so. (I poured stock directly out the box it came in into the pan).  When liquid is just about evaporated, add more. Mixture should be neither soupy nor dry. Keep heat at medium and stir frequently.

uncooked chicken (gasp)

cooked chicken (yum)

3. Begin tasting pasta 10 minutes after you add it; you want it to be tender but with a tiny bit of crunch. When pasta is about 3 to 4 minutes away from being done, add chicken and stir to combine. (If you are going to use the mustard, add it before the chicken).  Continue to cook until chicken is done — it will be white on inside when cut — and pasta is how you like it.  (I cooked the chicken for about 5-7 minutes) Taste, adjust seasoning, garnish with parsley and Parmesan.

Yield: 4 servings.