Tag Archives: easy

Parmesan Orzo with Asparagus

I was immediately inspired by this recipe from Tasty Kitchen. I’d only had orzo once before in my life, and it was in a very fancy dining room at Indiana University called the Tudor Room. I associate orzo with elegance, and the thought of making such an mahvellous little dish in only 20 minutes was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. Add to that my love of asparagus and garlic, and you understand that it was quite simply meant to be!

Ingredients

(Serves 4)

1/2 lb orzo pasta
1 bunch asparagus
Zest from 1 lemon
1/2 cup shredded Parmesan cheese
1/4 cup pasta water
2 cloves garlic
4 TBS olive oil, divided
Salt and pepper, to taste

Boil up some salted water, and cook the orzo until it’s al dente.

My package said it would take 9 minutes for al dente pasta, and it was right. Before draining it, measure out some pasta water . . .

. . . and set it aside.

In the meantime, snap the tough ends off the asparagus, and chop it up into 2 inch lengths.

Heat up 2 TBS of the olive oil in a large skillet over medium high heat. When hot, add the asparagus . . .

. . . and cook for about 8 minutes, until crisp tender.

For some reason I always want to punch myself in the face after using the descriptor ‘crisp tender,’ but I can think of no other phrase that sums up that ideal quality of the perfectly cooked vegetable so precisely. At least no concise phrase–we could always go with ‘not mushy/schmooshy but not undercooked either, slightly bitey but not tough, with a soft crunch, but by ‘soft’ I don’t mean ‘soggy’ and by ‘crunch’ I don’t mean like a potato chip.’

Anyway, make sure to season the asparagus with salt and pepper as it cooks.

Set the cooked asparagus aside.

At this point, I used the same skillet to cook up a couple steaks.

A little more prep, and we’re ready to get this served up. Locate the nearest pair of man-hands, and kindly request that they grate up mountains of Parmesan.

More! More! I said ‘mountains,’ not ‘one lonely hillside’!

That’s better. Thank you, man-hands.

Zest the lemon:

Pause to inhale the wonderful tangy smell of that golden pile. Mmmm.

Finally, put the garlic through a garlic press or mince it up really, really finely.

Now it’s just a matter of throwing everything together. Return the cooked orzo to the pot. Stir in the Parmesan, garlic, lemon zest, 2 remaining tablespoons of olive oil, asparagus, and pasta water.

Add plenty of salt and pepper, to taste. Et voilà, mon petit chou-chou!

You don’t mind if I call you my ‘little chou-chou’, do you?

Great. I didn’t think so.

Serve with fish, steak, chicken . . .

. . . or alone!

Some shrimp stirred in wouldn’t be bad either, now that I think about it.

Load on the extra Parmesan, if you so desire.

Woohoo! The Tudor Room no longer has a monopoly on my orzo experience.

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Tomato Mascarpone Pasta

I can’t count the times that I’ve heard my mom use the phrase “In my humble but correct opinion . . .” When I was young, I thought it was just one of her mom-isms, like her habit of waking us up in the mornings with an annoyingly happy song and a dose of joy that our sleep-encrusted selves were simply not ready for. Or her habit of encouraging our problem solving skills by chirping ‘Figure it out yourself!’ in that maddeningly cheerful voice that made you want to shoot a small rabbit. But as an adult, I have connected some psychological dots, and that phrase “In my humble but correct opinion” does a lot to explain a whole family-treeful of people.

See, the women on that side of the family, well–they like to be right. A lot. Especially a certain member of the family whose name stars with a ‘J-‘ and ends with an ‘-essica.’ It doesn’t help matters that she actually is right most of the time, dagnabbit.

I’ve been hitting myself over the head for years with the Mallet of Truth, trying to drive into my puny little brain the following: being right isn’t the most important thing in life! And I think I’m actually making some progress. However, as soon as I sat down to type up this recipe, my mom’s old phrase started emerging from the battleground of my own psyche. Since I haven’t even had my first coffee of the morning, I will make no attempt to resist it at this time. So here goes:

In my humble but correct opinion, Kayotic Kitchen is one of the best food blogs out there. This Dutch cooking whirlwind of a woman creates recipes that have both innovative flavor combinations and that comforting quality about them. And did I mention her stellar photography? Basically, I would dig into anything that Kay cooked up with more relish than I care to expound on (I think I’ve already done enough expounding for one morning). Kay is responsible for inspiring this African stew as well as this amazing Tomato Mozzarella tart. So if you at all have a thing for food blogs, it is your bounden duty as a human being to go look at her blog.

Okay! *stepping off podium* Enough jabbering! Let’s get to the cooking. This little pasta number is a simple dish, with just the right amount of creaminess, herbs, and rich tomatoey-ness. With my twist (red wine and more garlic!), here we go!

Ingredients

(Serves 5)

1 lb spaghetti
1 TBS olive oil
1 onion
5 garlic cloves
1-28 oz can diced tomatoes
5 oz mascarpone
2 tsp Italian seasoning
Salt and pepper, to taste
1/3 cup red wine
Parmesan curls, to serve
Handful fresh basil

Oops! Forgot the wine.

I love the price on that Yellow Tail brand.

Dice the onion finely . . .

. . . and mince the garlic.

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium high heat. Add the onion and cook for 5-6 minutes, until softened.

Season the onion with salt and pepper, then add the minced garlic and cook for 1-2 more minutes, stirring to make sure the garlic doesn’t burn.

Pour in the diced tomatoes (please make sure to splash yourself thoroughly with tomato juice during this step–I hear red polka dots are the New Black) . . .

. . . and add the Italian seasoning.

Give it a nice stir.

Bring the sauce to a boil, then partially cover the pan (leaving a small opening on one side between the pan and the lid) and cook the sauce over medium low heat for 20 minutes.

Add the red wine . . .

. . . and cook for 10 more minutes, with the pan still mostly covered.

Cook the pasta in salted water until al dente.

While the pasta and sauce are a-cookin’, it’s prime time to finely slice or mince the basil . . .

. . . and shave some Parmesan. I just use a vegetable peeler to get those nice thin slices:

And don’t stop until you have a goodly pile of shavings–I never heard anyone crying ’cause there was too much Parmesan.

Except for Luke. He’s my dear cousin. He’s lactose intolerant. Who knows–a large mountain of Parmesan might indeed bring a tear to his eye.

Stir the mascarpone into the finished tomato sauce.

Ignore the pool of grease that’s quickly becoming apparent. The way I figure it, the faster you stir it in, the faster the evidence will disappear.

Taste and adjust the seasoning.

It’s better to overseason it a little since it’s going to be flavoring a whole whoppin’ pound of pasta.

I also wondered to myself if the sauce would need a pinch of sugar to counteract the acidity of the tomatoes–but it did not. In my humble but correct opinion, that is.

Stir the pasta into the sauce along with the basil.

Tongs are useful at this juncture, in my humbl . . . *hitting self repeatedly*

Top it with Parmesan shavings to serve.

Please forgive the wacky color balance of these pictures and just focus on how good a bite of this would taste. Does taste. Has tasted.

And while we’re on the subject, have I mentioned that I can do a really cool trick? I grab a strand of spaghetti, see, and while holding onto one end, I swallow it.

Then I drag it up and out through my throat. It’s the tickliest sensation you can imagine, and if I had a strand of spaghetti I’d totally do it right now for you.

I regularly horrified my younger siblings with this trick during our youth. Then we all grew up and moved out and I ran out of people to horrify. So I got married. And I started a blog. Problem solved!

The End.

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