Tag Archives: Italian

Chicken Artichoke Pasta Alfredo

This scrumptious recipe is woman-pleasin’ to the max. I attempted to make it man-pleasin’ as well by sprinkling some bacon on top. The results:

Me: So what do you think? Isn’t this awesome?

My man: Um, well, it’s alright.

Me: “Alright”?? “Alright“?? Are we eating the same dish? Did I not sprinkle enough bacon on? Seriously, you don’t love this?

My man: I mean, it’s okay. I like it fine.

Me: “Okay”??? “Fine”???? *spazzing out*

My man: Yeah, it’s fine. Not mind-blowing, but it’s good.

*at this point I’m passed out on the floor*

So I’m just going to skip the whole burning question that has my mind on fire: did God really create my taste buds so differently from my husband’s? Is it a woman/man thing? Or is he a freak of nature? Or wait, maybe I’m the freak of nature?

Anyway, ignore this whole little session and just remember the fact that I fully endorse the deliciousness of this dish.

Ingredients

(Serves 5)

3 TBS olive oil

4 cloves garlic, minced

1.25 lb boneless skinless chicken breasts (1 1/2 breasts)

salt and pepper, to taste

1 lb farfalle (bowtie) pasta

2 14 oz cans artichoke hearts, drained (rinse well if using marinated hearts)

1 stick unsalted butter

1 c heavy whipping cream

1 1/2 c freshly grated parmesan cheese

4 slices bacon, chopped and fried (optional garnish)

1 TBS minced thyme or rosemary leaves (optional garnish)

First, get the pasta water (salted) on the stove so that we can get that farfalle cooked!

I chose to prep my garnish first–don’t ask why that made any kind of sense. I’d fried up some bacon the night before, so I chopped it up nice and fine along with some rosemary.

Thyme is also delicious on this dish. I should note that if you choose to use raw herbs for the garnish (as opposed to cooking the rosemary with the bacon, for example, or adding it to the chicken as it’s frying), chop it up finely! A mouthful of herb can be a rather bitter experience. You want tiny pieces–they pack a whomp.

Now, chop the chicken into bite-sized cubes.

Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high to high heat. When it’s hot, add the garlic and chicken.

Immediately sprinkle the chicken with salt and black pepper. Cook for about 5 minutes, until the chicken is starting to look less raw.

Open and drain those artichoke hearts–we don’t want any excess liquid going in.

Add the artichoke hearts, and cook for another 3 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Looking good.

Now you could chop up your artichoke hearts if you want, but I just broke them apart in the pan with my wooden stirring device:

I also used this opportunity to quickly grate the parmesan.

Add the butter to the artichokes and chicken . . .

Watch it melt with longing in your eyes.

Once it’s fully melted, add the cream . . .

. . . and parmesan.

Continue to cook for another few minutes until it’s turned into a lovely, thick sauce.

It looks a little pale, and that’s why the garnish is so important. It adds a beautiful pop to what could be a boring-looking dish.

When the pasta is done, pour it into the sauce and stir it around to combine.

Ew. That picture is disturbing, disgusting, and unappetizing. The drips of sauce look like . . . stalactites. Please pretend it never happened.

Let’s serve it up and top it off with some rosemary and bacon pieces.

Much prettier without those stalactites hanging ’round like they do.

You can also grate on a little more Parmesan if that does it for you.

I used one of my favorite Christmas gifts: a microplane zester.

Perfect!

Let’s take another bite.

Enjoy, ladies. And . . . men? If your taste buds are so inclined.

Click here for printer-friendly version: Chicken Artichoke Pasta Alfredo

Penne Rosa

I had Penne Rosa at Noodles and Company once, and it was then I realized I had to make something similar as quickly as possible. Two months later (yes, that was “as quickly as possible”), I stormed into the grocery store, demanded their entire stock of basil, and made a delicious dish. How similar it is to Noodles and Company, well, I just can’t say: let me remind you that I only had it once, didn’t take notes, and then let two months pass me by. But regardless, it’s fresh and perfect and I loved every bite. I mean, white wine and cream? As I’ve said before and I’ll say again until I draw my final breath, you can’t go wrong with those two things. Oh, and there’s garlic. I’m sorry, excuse me while I step to the side and faint dead away. I love that stuff.

Ingredients

1 lb penne pasta

4 TBS oil, divided

6 cloves garlic, minced

1 bunch asparagus, chopped

8 oz sliced mushrooms

1 c heavy whipping cream

1-28 oz can diced tomatoes

1/2 tsp red pepper flakes

3/4 c white wine

1 tsp brown sugar

3 cups fresh basil leaves, torn

Salt and pepper to taste

Parmesan, for sprinkling

Put your pasta water on to boil. I used mini penne, which boasted a super quick cooking time. I bought it mostly because it was cute, but I also thought it would mingle with the sauce better than its larger counterpart. Here’s the whole happy group together:

Roughly chop your asparagus on the diagonal (after removing the tough ends). This way of cutting it adds surface area to the pieces, which means more spots hit the pan/oil, which in turn adds flavor. Or maybe I’m just making that up.

Heat 2 TBS oil in a pan or pot. When hot, add the asparagus and fry for about 3 minutes. Add salt and pepper.

The asparagus will be bright green and crunchy after those 3 minutes–it’s the right time to remove it.

You don’t want to keep cooking it since it will later rejoin the sauce. If you cook it for too long up front, we’re talking a green mushy mess later.

You’d better have your garlic chopped by now–in this dish, I like it slivered instead of minced. The cooking time takes the edge off of the garlicky flavor, so encountering a larger chunk or slice is actually quite a pleasant experience.

Heat the remaining oil in the same pot over medium high heat. Add the garlic and mushrooms, and cook for 5 minutes, stirring often so that the garlic doesn’t burn. 

Add salt, pepper, and the red pepper flakes while it’s cooking.

The brown bits. Oh, the brown bits. I would lick them out of the pot if it didn’t mean cooking my own tongue in the process.

Add the wine, and cook for about 3 minutes, scraping the bottom to make sure all those brown bits get incorporated, loved, and assimilated.

Now, add the tomatoes.

Cook over high heat for 15 minutes, until reduced by half. You don’t want a watery sauce, so let it boil away aggressively. Add the brown sugar somewhere along the line.

Your (salted) pasta water should boil somewhere along the way . . . so get that goin’. Just look at those precious little noodles!

Now, add the cream to your sauce. Cook for another 5 minutes over medium high, letting the sauce thicken.

Please try to avoid drinking the whole concoction at this point. My mamma taught me that patience is a virtue . . . but one little spoonful can’t hurt, right? Mamma?

During the last minute of cooking, add the asparagus back in. A couple of my basil leaves snuck in too, but for the rest of you, hold those back for one more minute.

Now, take the sauce off the heat–trust me–and add the basil. I added half the basil at this point, and half after it was served into individual bowls. You don’t want to basil to cook and wilt–it’s best in this dish when it’s fresh, green, and as crunchy as it can be.

Once your pasta is cooked and drained, dump it into the pot with the sauce and mix it all together. You know what’s happening in that pot? One big lovefest.

Serve and sprinkle with parmesan, or parmesan shavings if you want to feel fancy. 

Click here for printer-friendly version: Penne Rosa