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Spinach Tomato Linguine -- When the Pantry Holds August All Year Long

August. The garden at peak and the first suggestions of its end. The days are still long but not the same long as June — the angle of the light has shifted, the mornings have a coolness at six that June didn't have, and the garden is producing everything at once in the way that August does, abundantly and slightly desperately, as if it knows October is coming and has work to do.

Canning began Saturday. Helen's project, primarily — I assist by lifting the heavy pots and operating the water bath canner, which requires coordination and a willingness to stand over boiling water for extended periods, which I have no objection to. She made tomato sauce, thirty-two jars, from the Romas she grows specifically for this: more flesh, less water, better for sauce. The sauce is plain: tomatoes, salt, a little olive oil, nothing else, because the point is to preserve the tomato itself and not its relationship with other ingredients. Those can be decided in January when the jar comes off the shelf.

I made corn — the corn from down the road, bought by the dozen ears, shucked on the porch in the late afternoon before dinner. Boiled four minutes. Nothing else. The sweet corn of August in Vermont, eaten with butter and salt, is a food that justifies the Vermont summer the way no other food does. There is nothing wrong with the Vermont summer. There is also nothing wrong with the corn that comes from it. These are related facts.

Frost has been rolling in something in the back field. I have not investigated what it is. Some things you address when you have to and not before.

Helen’s thirty-two jars of plain tomato sauce are down in the cellar now, lined up on the shelf where they’ll sit until January reminds us what August tasted like. But the Romas we didn’t can — the ones that came in slightly too ripe or too few for another full batch — those go straight into dinner. This spinach tomato linguine is the reason you grow Romas in the first place: a quick weeknight pasta that lets the tomato do the work, the way a good August tomato always should.

Spinach Tomato Linguine

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 12 oz linguine
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 3 cups fresh Roma tomatoes, diced (about 5–6 tomatoes)
  • 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more for pasta water
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 4 cups fresh baby spinach, loosely packed
  • 1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, torn
  • 1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving

Instructions

  1. Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook linguine according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water before draining.
  2. Build the sauce. While the pasta cooks, heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and cook, stirring, for about 1 minute until fragrant but not browned.
  3. Add the tomatoes. Add the diced tomatoes, red pepper flakes, salt, and black pepper. Cook over medium heat for 10–12 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes break down and the sauce thickens slightly.
  4. Wilt the spinach. Add the spinach to the skillet and stir until just wilted, 1–2 minutes.
  5. Combine. Add the drained linguine to the skillet and toss to coat. Add splashes of reserved pasta water as needed to loosen the sauce. Stir in the basil and Parmesan.
  6. Serve. Divide among bowls and top with additional Parmesan. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 15g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 65g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 390mg

Walter Bergstrom
About the cook who shared this
Walter Bergstrom
Week 175 of Walter’s 30-year story · Burlington, Vermont
Walt is a seventy-three-year-old retired high school history teacher from Burlington, Vermont — a Vietnam veteran, a widower, and a grandfather of five who cooks New England comfort food in the same kitchen where his wife Margaret made bread every Saturday for forty years. He lost Margaret to a stroke in 2021, and now he bakes her bread himself, not because he's good at it but because the smell fills the house and for an hour she's still there.

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