One Pot Penne Alla Vodka with Sausage

I am back in Hartford. I left Mami in Bayamon with Ana and a tarp where the roof used to be and a promise that I would bring her here, to Hartford, where the roofs stay on and the power works and the water comes from a faucet instead of a plastic bottle delivered by a neighbor with a truck. She did not want to leave. She said, This is my house, Carmen. I said, Mami, this is a house without a roof. She said, A house is a house. I said, A house with no roof is a patio. She did not laugh. She will not laugh about this for a long time. But she is thinking about it. Ana is thinking about it. The winter is coming and a tarp is not a roof and eighty-year-old women do not survive winters under tarps, not in Puerto Rico and not anywhere.

I came back to Hartford and I hugged Eduardo so hard he made a sound. I hugged Sofia. I went into my kitchen — my kitchen with its roof and its walls and its stove and its running water and its electricity that works every single time I flip the switch — and I stood there and I felt the guilt that every diaspora child feels when they return from the island to the mainland, the guilt of having a roof, the guilt of leaving, the guilt of comfort when your people are suffering. This guilt does not go away. You carry it. You cook with it. It seasons everything.

I went back to work at the hospital on Monday. My staff hugged me. Trish brought me a card signed by everyone in the dietary department. Maria from dietary, who is Dominican, looked at me and said, Carmen, how is the island? I said, Maria, the island is broken. And then I put on my apron and I cooked fifteen hundred meals because that is what I do. That is what I will always do. The world breaks and I cook. The island floods and I cook. The roof comes off and I cook. Cooking is not a response to crisis. Cooking IS the response. It is the only response I have. It is the only one that works.

Made pernil on Sunday. The full treatment. Twenty-four-hour marinade, six-hour roast. Not because anyone asked for pernil. Because I needed the smell. Because I needed the garlic and the oregano and the vinegar to fill my kitchen and remind me that the recipe survived the hurricane even if the roof did not. The recipe is here. The recipe is in my hands. The recipe does not need electricity or running water or a roof. The recipe needs garlic and love and a woman who refuses to stop cooking, and I am that woman, and I will always be that woman, and the pernil was perfect, mi amor. Even now. Even after everything. The pernil was perfect.

The pernil carried me through Sunday, but by Wednesday the guilt was still there — it does not leave on a schedule — and I needed something fast, something that would fill the apartment with a different kind of warmth and remind Eduardo and Sofia that their mami was still here, still whole, still feeding them. One pot, one stove, one woman who refuses to stop. That is how this penne alla vodka with sausage happened: not fancy, not a twenty-four-hour project, just a deep, creamy, sausage-rich pot of something that tasted like I meant it — because I did.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb sweet or spicy Italian sausage, casings removed
12 oz penne pasta (uncooked)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (or to taste)
1/3 cup vodka
1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
3/4 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
Salt and black pepper to taste
Fresh basil leaves, torn, for garnish

Instructions

Brown the sausage. Heat olive oil in a large, deep skillet or wide pot over medium-high heat. Add the sausage and cook, breaking it up with a wooden spoon, until browned and cooked through, about 6–8 minutes. Transfer to a plate and set aside, leaving the drippings in the pan.
Soften the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium. Add the diced onion to the pot and cook in the sausage drippings until softened and translucent, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook 1 minute more, stirring constantly, until fragrant.
Deglaze with vodka. Pour in the vodka and stir, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Let it cook for 2 minutes so the alcohol cooks off.
Build the sauce and cook the pasta. Add the crushed tomatoes and chicken broth. Stir to combine, then add the uncooked penne. Return the browned sausage to the pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a steady simmer. Cook uncovered, stirring every 2–3 minutes, until the pasta is al dente and has absorbed most of the liquid, about 12–15 minutes.
Finish with cream and cheese. Reduce heat to low. Stir in the heavy cream and Parmesan until the sauce is smooth, creamy, and coats every piece of pasta. Taste and adjust salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes as needed.
Serve. Ladle into bowls, top with extra Parmesan and torn fresh basil. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

One Pot Penne Alla Vodka with Sausage — Because the Cooking Never Stops