Sage Walnut Pesto Pasta

April 2022 and the land was waking up. Morel season was close—I'd been watching the weather and the ground temperature and the elms with the attention I always give this time of year. You can feel when it's almost time. The woods have a quality of readiness to them that's hard to describe but easy to recognize if you've been looking at them long enough.

Took Kai out on a Saturday and this year he was fast and accurate. He found more than me—twelve to my ten—and he moved through the woods with the quiet confidence of someone who had internalized the search pattern. He showed River photos on Caleb's phone afterward and explained what morels were with surprising accuracy and a lot of hand gestures. River, who is fourteen months old and primarily interested in putting things in his mouth, was politely attentive for about forty-five seconds before redirecting his attention to a stick.

The catering season was starting back up. Art had three events booked in May and June and had asked me to take the lead on menu planning for the cultural component. It was more responsibility than I'd had before. I sat with the menus for a week, thinking about what each occasion called for—a language immersion graduation needed something celebratory and connected to summer, a treaty day commemoration needed something more grounded and historical. The food has to fit the moment. That's the whole discipline, really.

Made a simple ramp pasta this week—ramps wilted in butter, whole grain pasta, a little cheese. Kai said it smelled like the woods and ate two bowls. I wrote it down. Sometimes the simple things are the clearest record of what a season was.

That ramp pasta I made this week—ramps wilted in butter, whole grain pasta, a little cheese—was the kind of meal that writes itself, and it got me thinking about how often the best spring cooking follows that same logic: something green and wild from the woods, something nutty and grounding, pasta that holds it all together. This sage walnut pesto is that same spirit in a slightly different key. Kai said the ramp pasta smelled like the woods, and I think he’d say the same thing here—sage carries that same foresty depth, and the walnuts give it the weight that a season of heavy work calls for.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

12 oz whole grain spaghetti or linguine
1 cup fresh sage leaves, loosely packed
1/2 cup walnut halves, lightly toasted
2 cloves garlic, peeled
1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, or to taste
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
1/2 cup reserved pasta cooking water

Instructions

Toast the walnuts. In a dry skillet over medium heat, toast the walnut halves for 3—4 minutes, stirring occasionally, until fragrant and lightly golden. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.
Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Cook the pasta according to package directions until al dente. Before draining, scoop out 1/2 cup of the starchy cooking water and set aside. Drain the pasta.
Make the pesto. In a food processor, combine the sage leaves, toasted walnuts, garlic, and Parmesan. Pulse until coarsely chopped. With the motor running, drizzle in the olive oil in a steady stream and process until the pesto is mostly smooth but still has some texture. Season with salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes if using.
Bring it together. Return the drained pasta to the pot over low heat. Add the butter and toss until melted. Add the sage walnut pesto and 1/4 cup of the reserved pasta water, tossing well to coat. Add more pasta water a splash at a time until the sauce coats the noodles evenly and isn’t too thick.
Serve. Divide among bowls and finish with additional grated Parmesan and a turn of black pepper. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Sage Walnut Pesto Pasta — When the Woods Come Home to the Table