The food writing panel at the culinary institute in LA was Saturday. I drove up — two hours, kids with Ryan — and spoke on a panel with three other food writers about 'food as identity.' I was the only one without a culinary degree. I was the only one who learned to cook from a recipe binder in base housing. I was the only military wife.
The moderator asked, 'When did you know food was your medium?'
The other panelists said things like 'culinary school' and 'my first restaurant job.' I said: 'When my mother told me what to cook for dinner during a deployment. On the phone. From four hundred miles away. I was twenty years old, pregnant, alone in base housing, and she said: make the broth. And I made the broth. And the broth saved me. That's when I knew.'
The room was quiet. Then applause.
After the panel, a woman approached me — a literary agent. A LITERARY AGENT. From a real agency in New York. She said, 'I've read your book. I think you need a bigger publisher for the next one. Can we talk?'
A literary agent. Interested in me. Because of a book I wrote in a three-square-foot kitchen in the Mojave Desert.
I said, 'Yes. Let's talk.'
(Internally: SCREAMING.)
I called Mom from the car. 'A literary agent wants to represent me.'
'What does that mean?'
'It means a professional person helps me get a bigger book deal with a bigger publisher.'
'A BIGGER publisher? How big?'
'The big ones, Mom. The New York ones.'
Silence. Then: 'Kevin. A PUBLISHER in NEW YORK wants Rachel's BOOK.'
Dad, from the background: 'Which book? The cooking one?'
'YES, Kevin, the COOKING one. How many books has she written?'
Donna. Exasperated by Kevin's question. Thrilled by the answer.
Made Soo-Jin's japchae tonight. The celebration food. The Pendleton food. Glass noodles and sesame oil and the taste of friendship.
A literary agent. A bigger publisher. The book expands.
The kitchen table is getting bigger. The book table is getting bigger. Everything grows.
Everything always grows.
When something big happens — something that makes you scream internally in the parking lot of a culinary institute before calling your mom — you make noodles. That’s just the rule. The story in my house has always been that noodles mean something: friendship, survival, the particular kind of joy that doesn’t quite have words yet. Tonight I didn’t have glass noodles on hand, but I had zucchini and garlic and the good olive oil, and sometimes you work with what the pantry gives you. This zucchini spaghetti is the lighter, weeknight cousin of the celebration noodle — quick enough that you can get it on the table while you’re still grinning, still a little stunned, still thinking: a literary agent. Me.
Zucchini Spaghetti
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 4 medium zucchini, spiralized or peeled into ribbons
- 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
- 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
- 1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, torn
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Instructions
- Prep the zucchini. Spiralize the zucchini into noodles using a spiralizer, or use a vegetable peeler to create long ribbons. Place on a paper-towel-lined tray, sprinkle lightly with salt, and let sit 5 minutes to draw out moisture. Pat dry.
- Sauté the aromatics. Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the minced garlic and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring, for about 1 minute until fragrant — do not let the garlic brown.
- Add the tomatoes. Add the cherry tomatoes to the skillet. Cook 4–5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes soften and begin to release their juices. Season with salt and black pepper.
- Cook the noodles. Add the dried zucchini noodles to the skillet. Toss with tongs over medium-high heat for 2–3 minutes, just until the noodles are tender but still have a slight bite. Do not overcook or they will become watery.
- Finish and serve. Remove from heat. Drizzle with remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil and the lemon juice. Toss to combine. Divide among bowls and top with grated Parmesan and torn fresh basil. Serve immediately.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 148 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 9g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 310mg
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 327 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.