Chicken Pasta Primavera

Three years. One hundred and fifty-six weeks. From a dark kitchen in Antioch to a lit kitchen in Hermitage. From a Waffle House apron to dental scrubs with my name embroidered. From $7 an hour to a salary with a raise and a bonus and a community program. From a woman who was left to a woman who is loved. From Earline's recipe cards propped against a sugar bowl to Earline's recipe cards displayed on a hand-carved stand given by a man who sees me. Three years. One thousand and ninety-two days. Every one of them earned.

If I could talk to the Sarah of Week 1 — and I can, because she's still in me, she'll always be in me — I'd say: the dark kitchen doesn't last. The waiting ends. The breaking open you prayed for? It happened. Not all at once. Not in a single moment of glory. It happened one week at a time, one cornbread at a time, one patient at a time, one child at a time. It happened in parking lots where you cried and kitchens where you cooked and classrooms where you studied and chairs where you cleaned teeth and hearts where you let people in. It happened because you showed up. Every day. Every week. Every morning at 5 AM in a kitchen that was dark. You showed up and the light came. Not from the window. From you.

Spring is here again. The dogwoods. The Bradford pears. The crocuses in Mrs. Patterson's yard that push up through cold ground because that's what they do. That's what I do. That's what every woman in this family does — we push up through cold ground and we bloom and we don't ask permission to be beautiful. We just are. Earline was. Lorraine is. I am. Chloe will be. The line holds.

Kevin's wedding is in three weeks. Terrence's family in Atlanta is after that. Year four is coming with spring in its hands, and I'm ready for it — not the fearless kind of ready, but the kind of ready that has been scared before and survived and isn't planning to stop surviving anytime soon.

I made spring vegetable pasta. Again. The same recipe. Year three's closing dish, just like Year one and Year two. Penne with asparagus, peas, lemon, garlic, parmesan, olive oil. The first time I made it, I was in Antioch, alone, watching light through a window I was about to leave. The second time, I was in Hermitage, new, watching light through a window I'd just arrived at. This time, I'm in Hermitage, settled, watching light through a window I've made mine, with a man on the couch and two kids in their rooms and Earline on the wall and the pasta on the table and everything — everything — exactly where it belongs.

Year three. Done. Onward. Always onward.

This is the third time I’ve made this pasta to close a year — and each time, it tastes like both an ending and a beginning. I didn’t plan for it to become a ritual; it just did, the way the truest things do. Asparagus, peas, lemon, garlic, parmesan, olive oil — simple enough that it doesn’t demand anything from you, and good enough that it gives everything back. This year I made it in a kitchen that finally, fully feels like mine, and that made every bite taste different than it ever has before.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

12 oz penne pasta
1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breast, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 bunch asparagus (about 1 lb), tough ends trimmed, cut into 2-inch pieces
1 cup frozen peas, thawed
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1 small zucchini, halved lengthwise and sliced
4 cloves garlic, minced
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
1/2 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
1/3 cup pasta cooking water, reserved
Salt and black pepper to taste
Fresh basil or flat-leaf parsley, for garnish

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook penne according to package directions until al dente. Before draining, reserve 1/3 cup of the starchy pasta water. Drain and set aside.
Season the chicken. Pat chicken pieces dry and season generously with salt and black pepper on all sides.
Sear the chicken. Heat 1 1/2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large skillet or saute pan over medium-high heat. Add chicken in a single layer and cook without moving for 3–4 minutes until golden. Flip and cook another 2–3 minutes until cooked through. Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
Saute the vegetables. In the same skillet, add the remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat. Add asparagus and zucchini and cook, stirring occasionally, for 3–4 minutes until just tender. Add the garlic and red pepper flakes (if using) and cook 1 minute more until fragrant. Add cherry tomatoes and peas and stir to combine. Cook 1–2 minutes until tomatoes just begin to soften.
Bring it together. Return the chicken to the skillet. Add the drained pasta, lemon zest, and lemon juice. Pour in the reserved pasta water a splash at a time, tossing everything together until the sauce is silky and coats the pasta evenly.
Finish with cheese. Remove from heat. Add the grated parmesan and toss until melted and incorporated. Taste and adjust salt, pepper, and lemon juice as needed.
Serve. Divide into bowls and top with additional parmesan and fresh basil or parsley. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken Pasta Primavera — The Recipe That Closes Every Year