Zucchini Pasta

This summer, I attempted a little gardening, and I learned that I do not have a green thumb.  The truth is… I killed a cactus.  I bought the most darling hen and chicks cactus to live on my patio.  There were two plants, nestled together in a pitcher.  I named the big one Melanie, and the little one Melvin (Mellie and Mel for short).  Last week, I discovered that Melanie was all shriveled up and brown.  I made a fruitless attempt to save her by removing some of the brown leaves, and she became dislodged from the soil.  Below, you can see lonely little Melvin and the sad spot where Melanie used to reside.  I also have two leggy basil plants, named Rufus and Alberta, who have had multiple near death experiences due to highly inconsistent (and irresponsible) watering practices.

Luckily, people exist in the world that are able to maintain an actual garden, unlike me, the cactus killer.  I am grateful to these people because they give me hope that my gardening skills may turn around one day, and I am especially grateful when capable gardeners share their loot with me.  Some garden-fresh zucchini were recently placed in my custody, and they were so delicious.  I love zucchini, and to have some home grown ones bestowed upon me was such a treat.  They were small and tender, unlike some of those big, seedy ones you sometimes find in the market. 

Such perfect specimens deserved a simple preparation that would highlight the zucchini itself.  I chose to sauté the zucchini with garlic and olive oil, and toss this concoction with pasta, fresh herbs, and cheese.  It was delicious, and it can be prepared in the amount of time it takes to cook the pasta. 

While the water came to a boil, I chopped up the zucchini, garlic, and herbs, and once the pasta was in the water, I began sautéing.  For one generous portion, I used one zucchini, one clove of garlic, about ¼ of a box of pasta, and a few tablespoons of herbs.  I sautéed the zucchini for about 5-7 minutes, so it softened, but it was still crisp in the middle.  I also added a few tablespoons of white wine at the end to stop the garlic from getting too brown (and because I happened to have it in the fridge). 

When the pasta was done, I put it directly in the pan with the zucchini, and added the chopped herbs.  I had the perfect storm of leftover herbs for this dish: basil, parsley, and dill.  It was a fresh and delightful combination, but any one of those herbs would have done the trick.  And then of course, I added (a lot) of Parmesan cheese, and a little Asiago.  These ideas are merely guidelines (I intend to make it again tonight with thyme and basil from my dilapidated herb garden).  The method is less important than the fact that the fresh zucchini was such a treat.  I could have eaten the zucchini straight from the pan and called it dinner.

Minestone

I handle periods of transition with the finesse of a baby tolerating a dirty diaper.  Under the best circumstances, I squirm and make faces to reflect my discomfort.  I may whine a little bit.  Depending on the severity of the situation, I feel compelled to burst into tears.  One would hope that my tolerance for change would increase with experience; this does not seem to be the case.  Under my critical observation, my improvements seem to be occurring at a rate that does not allow for functional changes. 

Currently, I am transitioning from the role of “life-long-student,” into the vastly unstructured environment of unemployment.  There are some advantages to this situation: free time, free time, free time.  There is also the dingy hope of an interview or better yet (gasp!) an actual job offer.  There are also some co-occurring problems: the highly pronounced anxiety that barges in when you don’t get the interview/job offer.  My coping strategy with these issues tends to involve falling back on comfortable, old routines, like cooking.  Alas, yet another soup recipe was born.

Minestrone is a time-honored tradition in my family, although I sort of took it in my own direction.  When I was little, I sort of dreaded it because of the presence of zucchini.  I would avoid the zucchini, and eat everything else I could, until my mom inevitably required that I finish it.  With a trembling hand, I would lift each spoonful of cold, neglected zucchini, and chew as quickly as possible to prevent gagging.

My “adult” palette has revised its opinion of zucchini, and I stand behind a firm recommendation of this soup.  This is a fairly traditional recipe, except that I included a good portion of tomato paste to give the broth a deep color and flavor.  I also cooked the pasta separately to prevent it from turning to mush, but this is matter of personal preference.  Overall, the soup was warm and comforting.  It had a round well-developed flavor from the garlic, herbs, and tomato paste.  Plus, it goes nicely with my favorite condiment: freshly grated Parmesan cheese.   I recommend the following progression:  cook the soup; drink a beer, eat a of soup bowl; drink another beer while eating another bowl; be happy.  But it’s just a suggestion (and please excuse the blurry photos).  

Minestrone

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons butter

4 cloves garlic, minced

1 medium onion, diced

¼ teaspoon hot pepper flakes

Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

3 celery stalks, diced

3 carrots, diced

3 tablespoons tomato paste

1 teaspoon dried basil

½ teaspoon dried oregano

1 tablespoon dried parsley

1 medium red skin potato, diced

6 cups reduced sodium chicken stock

28 oz can diced tomatoes

1 can chick peas, drained and rinsed

2 small zucchinis, diced

Small cut pasta (cook separately)

Parmesan cheese for garnish

-       Preheat a soup pot over medium heat.  Add the olive oil and butter.

-       Once the butter melts, add onion, celery, carrot, and garlic.  Season with hot pepper flakes, salt, and pepper.  Sauté for 10 minutes, stirring frequently, until vegetables become soft and translucent.

-       Add the tomato paste, stirring frequently for two minutes, until very fragrant.

-       Add canned tomatoes, broth, chickpeas, potatoes, and remaining seasonings. 

-       Bring to a boil.  Reduce to a simmer, and cook for 30 minutes.

-       Taste and adjust seasonings.  Add zucchini and cook for ten more minutes.

-       Place cooked pasta in soup bowls and add soup.  Garnish with parmesan.