Pasta is always the answer — to a long day, an empty fridge, a forgotten grocery trip. Whatever's on hand, good olive oil, and a hearty appetite is all you need.
This seasonal favorite is the kind of easy secondi the Anna Del Conte and Pellegrino Artusi school always trusted most: a few good ingredients, left alone. Basil pesto, snappy asparagus, sweet peas.
We highly recommend making more than you need so dinner can make an encore appearance as cold pasta salad for lunch later in the week.
Recipe:
Easy summer pasta
For the pesto, tip 2 cups fresh basil leaves, packed, 1 garlic cloves, 3 tablespoons pine nuts, and 0.5 cups grated Parmesan into a food processor with a pinch of 1 teaspoons fine sea salt and blitz to a rough, fragrant paste — or, if you're feeling romantic about it, pound it by hand with a mortar and pestle like the nonnas did. With the motor still running, trickle in 0.5 cups extra virgin olive oil in a thin, steady stream until it turns loose, glossy, and improbably green. Taste it (you'll want to, it's irresistible) and season further if needed.
Boil the pasta water. Get a large pot of water going at a rolling boil, salted generously enough that it tastes like a mouthful of the sea.
Cook the pasta. Slide 1 ounces penne (or other short pasta)into the boiling water and let it bubble away until just al dente — a little bite left, nothing mushy.
Add the vegetables. With about 3 minutes left on the pasta's clock, drop 1 bunch asparagus, trimmed and cut into 2-inch pieces and 1.5cups fresh or frozen peas straight into the same pot. They'll blanch alongside the pasta — bright, quick, and with only the one pot to show for it, which feels like a small victory.
Drain and toss. Scoop out a mugful of that starchy, cloudy pasta water and set it aside — it's liquid gold for later. Drain the pasta and vegetables together, then tip them back into the still-warm pot, off the heat.
Finish with pesto. Dollop in the pesto and toss gently, loosening things with a splash of the reserved pasta water until everything is coated in a loose, glossy green sheen — not claggy, not dry. Scatter over the zest of1lemon, zested for a little lift, and taste one final time for salt.
Serve! Pile it onto warm plates and let the table do the rest. This is happiest eaten at room temperature or just gently warm, never rushed straight from the pot.
