By I got a call in July about a job. Not the pipeline—something different. A man named Art who runs a large catering operation out of Tahlequah, focused on Cherokee Nation events, asked if I'd be interested in picking up weekend work for their summer season. He'd apparently heard about me from the woman I'd talked to at the language booth at the Cherokee National Holiday two summers ago. She'd mentioned me as someone who knew traditional food preparation.
I said I'd come talk to him. We met at his kitchen on a Wednesday morning. He was sixty-something, had been doing this for twenty years, wanted someone who could handle the bean bread, the fry bread, the kanuchi, the corn dishes, for the larger events where his regular crew got stretched. He wanted authenticity, he said—not performance, but actual practice.
I took the work. Part-time, weekends when events lined up with my pipeline schedule. The first event was a retirement celebration for a longtime Cherokee Nation employee—three hundred people in a community center, a full traditional menu. I worked alongside Art and two of his regular people and by the end of the first hour had found my place in the rhythm of a professional kitchen, which is not unlike welding in some ways: precise, coordinated, no wasted motion.
The bean bread I made was good. Art tried it mid-prep and didn't say anything, which I've learned means it's right. You don't compliment what's working in a kitchen, you only stop to correct what isn't.
I drove home that evening with tired hands and something I hadn't had in a while: the feeling of a specific skill being seen and used for something that mattered.
Bean bread is all about the bean — its texture, the way it holds together, the patience it takes to get it right. When I’m not in a kitchen running a full traditional menu, I come back to that same principle in simpler forms: something built around the legume, baked until it’s settled into itself. Pasta Fagioli al Forno isn’t Cherokee food, but it asks for the same attention — no shortcuts, no substitutions, just honest ingredients handled correctly. Art wouldn’t say it’s right. He’d just keep moving, which means the same thing.
Pasta Fagioli al Forno
Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 12 oz rigatoni or penne pasta
- 2 cans (15 oz each) cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
- 1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 teaspoon dried rosemary
- 1 teaspoon dried thyme
- 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for pasta water
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 cup shredded low-moisture mozzarella
- 1/2 cup grated Parmesan, divided
- 1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, torn (optional)
Instructions
- Preheat and prep. Heat oven to 375°F. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.
- Cook the pasta. Cook rigatoni until 2 minutes shy of package directions (it will finish in the oven). Drain and set aside, reserving 1/2 cup pasta water.
- Build the sauce. Heat olive oil in a large oven-safe skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic, rosemary, thyme, and red pepper flakes; cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Add beans and tomatoes. Stir in crushed tomatoes and cannellini beans. Season with salt and pepper. Simmer over medium-low heat for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce thickens slightly. Add reserved pasta water if the mixture looks dry.
- Combine. Remove from heat. Fold in the cooked pasta and 1/4 cup of the Parmesan until evenly coated.
- Top and bake. Spread mixture evenly in the pan (or transfer to a greased 9x13-inch baking dish). Scatter mozzarella and remaining Parmesan over the top. Bake uncovered for 20–25 minutes, until the cheese is melted and the edges are bubbling.
- Rest and serve. Let sit 5 minutes before serving. Top with fresh basil if using.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 430 | Protein: 20g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 63g | Fiber: 9g | Sodium: 620mg