Shrimp Fra Diavolo Pasta

The writing course is over. Six weeks. Twelve strangers who are no longer strangers — who have heard my grandmother's miso soup recipe and my marriage's slow collapse and my daughter's first word in Japanese, all disguised as food essays. We exchanged emails. We promised to stay in touch. We won't, mostly, except for Lin — Lin from the blog comments, who turned out to be in the class, who turned out to be the person who'd been reading my posts for a year and who signed up for the course because of something I wrote about kabocha. The coincidence felt like fate, or at least like Portland, where the circles are small enough that everyone is two farmers markets away from everyone else.

I made Fumiko's chawanmushi — the steamed egg custard that is the most delicate dish in Japanese home cooking. Eggs, dashi, soy sauce, mirin, poured into cups with shrimp and mushroom and ginkgo nut and steamed until the custard sets — barely, tremblingly, so tender it breaks if you look at it wrong. Fumiko's card says: "patience. The custard tells you when it is done. You do not tell the custard." I have been trying to tell the custard for two years. This week the custard was right. Smooth, silken, the flavor of pure dashi suspended in egg. The achievement is small and enormous and exactly the kind of quiet victory that no one outside this kitchen will ever understand.

Lin and I went for tea after the last class. She is a graphic designer, Korean American, forty-two, divorced, with a fourteen-year-old son. She reads obsessively, writes occasionally, and has the kind of calm attention that makes you feel like the only person in a room even when the room is full. She said, "Your writing changed over the six weeks. The first essay was good. The last one was true." The distinction landed in my chest like a bell. Good and true are not the same thing. Good is technique. True is risk. I have been good for three years. I am starting to be true.

November arrives with rain and the beginning of the slow countdown to the holidays, which I approach with the enthusiasm of a woman walking toward a dentist appointment she cannot reschedule. The holidays require family. Family requires performance. Performance requires energy. I am running low on all three.

The shrimp in Fumiko’s chawanmushi are there to be quiet — nestled into custard, asked to behave, contributing flavor without drama. After finally, finally getting that custard right, I found myself wanting to cook shrimp in the opposite register: hot pan, loud garlic, tomatoes collapsing into something brick-red and a little dangerous. Fra diavolo is the antidote to patience. It rewards speed, heat, and the willingness to let something sizzle on the edge of too much — which is exactly the kind of cooking I needed as November moved in and the holidays began their slow march toward my door.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb large shrimp, peeled and deveined, tails on or off
12 oz linguine or spaghetti
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1/2 to 3/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes, to taste
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 can (14.5 oz) crushed tomatoes
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for pasta water
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
Pinch of sugar (optional, to balance acidity)

Instructions

Salt and boil. Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Cook linguine according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water before draining.
Sear the shrimp. Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add shrimp in a single layer and cook 1 to 2 minutes per side, just until pink and curled. Transfer to a plate — they will finish in the sauce.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil to the same skillet. Add garlic and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring, for about 1 minute until fragrant but not browned.
Deglaze and simmer. Pour in white wine, scraping up any browned bits from the pan. Let it reduce by half, about 2 minutes. Add crushed tomatoes, oregano, salt, pepper, and sugar if using. Simmer uncovered for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce thickens slightly.
Finish together. Return shrimp to the skillet and nestle into the sauce. Cook 1 to 2 minutes until shrimp are heated through and just cooked. Add drained pasta and toss to coat, adding reserved pasta water a splash at a time if the sauce needs loosening.
Serve. Divide among warm bowls and scatter parsley over the top. Serve immediately with crusty bread if you have it.

Nutrition (per serving)

Shrimp Fra Diavolo Pasta — The Same Shrimp, a Louder Kitchen