The first trimester nausea has begun. Again. The same all-day queasiness that makes cooking — my JOB, my CAREER, the thing I do for a living — an exercise in endurance. The smell of garlic, which is in everything I cook, makes me gag. The smell of onions, which is in everything Mom ever taught me, makes me gag harder.
I am a food writer who can't smell food. The irony is not lost on me.
Caleb doesn't understand why Mama isn't cooking. He drags his step stool to the counter and says 'He'p cook, Mama!' and I say, 'Mama's tummy is sick, baby,' and he says, 'Kiss it!' and kisses my stomach, which is the sweetest and least medically effective treatment for morning sickness I've encountered.
Ryan has stepped up. He's cooking dinner two nights a week now — his repertoire has expanded to include: eggs (all types), burgers, grilled cheese, burritos, the breakfast casserole, and now (drum roll) spaghetti. Real spaghetti. With sauce that he makes from canned tomatoes and garlic and herbs. It's not Mom's spaghetti. It's not MY spaghetti. It's Ryan's spaghetti, and it's GOOD.
The man can cook. Not a lot. Not well enough to write about. But enough to feed his family when his wife is gagging at garlic.
The blog continues. The column continues. RecipeSpinoff continues. I write about food while unable to eat food, which is a special kind of torture. The posts are written in the morning when the nausea is slightly less (SLIGHTLY — the name 'morning sickness' remains a lie), and I photograph recipes that Ryan or Elena makes because I can't stand over a stove without wanting to die.
Elena has been extraordinary. She comes over twice a week with prepared food — her green chile stew, her posole, her enchiladas. She doesn't ask if I want it. She just brings it. Because that's what military wives do: they feed each other through the hard parts.
Mom's advice for the first trimester, unchanged from Caleb: 'Broth. Crackers. Ginger. Lemon popsicles. And call me every night.'
Every night. The call doesn't change. The food changes. The pregnancy changes. The call doesn't.
Made (well, Ryan made) his spaghetti tonight. Caleb ate two plates. I ate crackers.
The crackers will sustain me. The kitchen will survive. The baby is the size of a blueberry.
Here we go again.
Ryan’s spaghetti nights saved us this trimester — and honestly, this salsa spaghetti is exactly the kind of recipe that made it possible. It’s simple enough that a man whose previous repertoire topped out at grilled cheese can pull it off on a Tuesday night, but flavorful enough that Caleb cleared his bowl twice and asked for more. I couldn’t stand over the stove, but I could sit at the table and watch my family eat — and some nights, that’s enough.
Salsa Spaghetti
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 12 oz spaghetti
- 1 lb ground beef or ground turkey
- 1 1/2 cups jarred or fresh salsa (medium or mild)
- 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1 teaspoon cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon chili powder
- Salt and black pepper, to taste
- Shredded cheddar or Monterey Jack cheese, for serving
- Sour cream and chopped fresh cilantro, optional for topping
Instructions
- Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook spaghetti according to package directions until al dente. Drain and set aside.
- Brown the meat. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, cook the ground beef or turkey, breaking it apart with a spoon, until no longer pink, about 7–8 minutes. Drain excess fat.
- Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Stir in the salsa, diced tomatoes, garlic powder, cumin, and chili powder. Season with salt and pepper. Simmer for 8–10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce thickens slightly.
- Combine. Add the drained spaghetti directly to the skillet and toss to coat evenly in the sauce. Heat through for 1–2 minutes.
- Serve. Divide into bowls and top with shredded cheese. Add sour cream and cilantro if desired.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 520 | Protein: 32g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 65g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 680mg
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 288 of Rachel’s 30-year story
· San Diego, California
Rachel is a twenty-eight-year-old Marine wife and mom of two who has moved five times in six years and learned to cook a Thanksgiving dinner with half her cookware still in boxes. She married young, survived postpartum depression, and feeds her family of four on a junior Marine's salary with a freezer full of pre-made meals and a crockpot that has never let her down. She writes for the military spouses who are cooking dinner alone in base housing and wondering if they're enough. You are.