A classic dish using a mixture of pasta, bright green al dente vegetables, and a flavorful sauce. The key lies more in the method than the ingredients; indeed, using your own personal blend of favorite veggies is part of the fun of this dish.

First, prep the vegetables. Chop the broccoli into bite-sized pieces, about 1 to 1 ½ cups worth. Dice half a yellow onion. Chop 3 to 4 cloves of garlic. Slice carrots on the bias (diagonally), and do the same for the zucchini and yellow squash. Roughly slice the mushrooms and slice the red pepper (seeded) into strips. Heat 2 tablespoons butter with 2 tablespoons olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the chopped onion and garlic together and cook for a minute or two, until they start to turn translucent. Then throw in the broccoli. Stir, and add in the carrots. Stir it around, and PLEASE, PLEASE cook it for only a minute, tops. Transfer the mixture to a plate. Add in the red pepper strips to the skillet. Stir them around for a minute or so, then transfer them to the plate. Add pasta to slightly salted boiling water and cook to al dente. Add a tablespoon of butter to the skillet. Add squash and zucchini, cook for less than a minute, then transfer to plate. Cook mushrooms for a minute or two (add salt to taste), and again transfer to the plate. FOR THE SAUCE To make the sauce, pour ¼ to ½ cup dry white wine into the skillet (see note below). Add ½ cup low-sodium chicken broth, a tablespoon of butter and scrape the bottom of the skillet to pull up the flavor left behind by the veggie cooking. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes until the liquid starts to thicken. Add 1 cup whipping cream and 1 cup half-and-half. Measure out ½ cup grated Parmesan; add to the skillet. Add salt and pepper to taste. Chiffonade 5 to 6 fresh basil leaves and add that to the sauce; stir. Dump veggies and mushrooms into the sauce along with ½ cup frozen peas right out of the freezer. Add pasta al dente and stir. If the sauce seems a little thick, or if there doesn’t seem to be enough sauce, add a good splash of chicken broth and a little more half-and-half. Top with more Parmesan, salt, pepper, and basil to taste. Note: if you’re averse to wine, add chicken broth instead. But watch the salt later.

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leaves Basil (or More To Taste), Plus Extra For Garnish

5 leaves Basil (or More To Taste), Plus Extra For Garnish

Dry White Wine, Up To 1/2 Cup (optional, Replace With Additional Broth If Not Using)

1/4 c. Dry White Wine, Up To 1/2 Cup (optional, Replace With Additional Broth If Not Using)

whole Medium To Large Carrots, Sliced On The Bias (diagonally)

2 whole Medium To Large Carrots, Sliced On The Bias (diagonally)

Chick Food Alert: This one’s for the ladies, gentlemen. I say that because, well, there’s no meat in it. And I know there are some of you Renaissance Men out there who are not above eating a dinner wholly devoid of animal flesh, but I sure don’t know any of you. So for my life, this dish is poised right at the top of my list of "Chick Foods", which means I won’t make it unless Marlboro Man is in China for the week.

It’s Pasta Primavera, which translates to "Spring Pasta" in English, and the classic dish uses a mixture of bright green vegetables mixed with pasta. As I sit typing this post in 97-degree weather, I’m well aware that it’s no longer spring. And really, since many of the vegetables used in my recipe don’t become ripe in my garden until at least the middle of July, "Spring Pasta" really isn’t a fitting name at all. Is there a Pasta Naming Coalition who can hear my complaint? Is there a form I can fill out? It’s just that I believe calling it Pasta Primavera is really dishonest. So is my suggestion that any of these vegetables came from my garden, because they didn’t.

But enough of my issues, let’s get on to the dish itself! I’ve been cooking this very recipe for twenty years. Twenty years. That’s longer than I’ve been married, had children, and American Idol has been on the air. I remember sitting around my parents’ living room my senior year in high school, flipping through my mom’s Bon Apetit magazine as I was wont to do on the nights I was grounded, which was pretty often. I found a recipe for Pasta Primavera, which I’d never heard of before, and spent the rest of the evening whipping it up for my parents. It was so delicious, they ungrounded me right there on the spot. Then I went out and got arrested.

Not really, as far as you know. But the pasta really, really was delicious and provided a wonderful basis for the version I make today. Over the years I’ve played with the recipe a lot, and have finally reached a Pasta Primavera Nirvana—a goal to which every self-respecting pasta lover should aspire. The key lies more in the method than the ingredients; indeed, using your own personal blend of favorite veggies is part of the fun of this dish. I figured out that it’s best to cook the vegetables in separate batches, and to cook them only very slightly at first. Then later, when you add them to the creamy, flavorful sauce, you’ll have a little wiggle room to adjust the thickness and seasonings without overcooking them. If you cook them all together, then create the sauce in the same pan, the veggies will invariably overcook and become soggy and lifeless. The method I’ve figured out ensures a perfectly flavorful sauce and perfectly al dente vegetables, which is the secret to perfect Pasta Primavera. Let’s go for it!



The Cast of Characters: Zucchini, Yellow Squash, Onion, Garlic, Broccoli, Carrots, Mushrooms, Red Bell Pepper, Frozen Peas, Buter, Whipping (Heavy) Cream, Half-and-Half, and Parmesan. (Oh, and sliced green onions if you like, but I forgot to add them today. Either way, it’s still delish.)



Oh, and a glass of dry white wine (optional).



Start with the broccoli: get a big chunk or two…



Then begin cutting it into smaller pieces.



Then cut off the stems, but you’ll want to leave them in the dish.



Now you should have a good cup to cup-and-a-half of bite-sized broccoli pieces.



Now take your onion…



…And cut it in half from top to bottom.



Now cut off the top…



Peel away the outer layer…



Make vertical slices…



Then rotate it 90 degrees and slice down to dice. I like to dice the onion pretty finely.



Now take the garlic bulb and remove three or four cloves.



With a heavy jar or can, smash each clove…



And peel away the papery layer.



Chop the garlic finely.



Now peel two medium/large carrots.



And slice them on the bias (diagonal).



Now take two zucchini and slice them on the bias, too.



I love zucchini. There’s something about it that makes me want to sculpt.



Now get your mushrooms. I usually use white button mushrooms, but I thought these baby porcinis looked interesting.

I love mushrooms. I mean, LOVE. There’s something about them that makes me want to play Beethoven’s Ninth on a ukulele.



Slice ’em up roughly. No need to be precise.



I also like to use yellow squash, but you don’t have to if they scare the living daylights out of you. They used to scare me when I was nine. At night I’d wake up screaming if they ever entered my dreams.



The pile of veggies is really beginning to grow! We’re running out of cutting board space.



Now take the lovely, vibrant red pepper.



Slice off the top…



Slice off the bottom, and either pull or cut out the core.



If you’re bored, you could always throw this on your wrist, wear it as a bangle, and go paint the town red for awhile. (Oh, and that’s porcini mushroom under my fingernail…not manure.)



Now just cut the pepper in half (from top to bottom) and slice it into strips.

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of cutting vegetables. Let’s get down to the cookin’!



Now heat 2 tablespoons butter with 2 tablespoons olive oil in a medium-high skillet.

Now. Important stuff here. I believe the key to perfect Pasta Primavera is the vegetables not becoming overcooked. In years past, I’d typically throw all the vegetables into the skillet together, cook them thoroughly (read: too long), then actually cook the sauce in the pan with the veggies, which would only add to their cooking time. By the end, though the flavor way great, the vegetables would be flaccid and lifeless. And I’d beat myself over the head with a tenderizing mallet.

So what we’re going to do is cook the vegetables every so slightly in batches.



Start by adding the chopped onion and garlic together.



Cook for a minute or two, until they start to turn translucent.



Now throw in the broccoli.



Stir it around…



And add in the carrots. Stir it around, and PLEASE, PLEASE cook it for only a minute, tops. The key here is not to cook the vegetables thoroughly, but just to warm them and get them coated in butter/oil.



After you’ve cooked them for a minute, transfer mixture to a plate.



Now add in the red pepper strips. Stir them around for a minute or so, then transfer them to the plate.



Now’s a good time to cook the pasta. I like penne, but linguini’s great, too.



Dump it in slightly salted, boiling water…and let’s get back to the veggies.



The skillet’s looking a little dry and lonely, so why dontcha just go ahead and add a tablespoon of butter? A tablespoon of butter covers a multitude of sins.



Now add in the zucchini and squash.



You definitely don’t want to overcook this…less than a minute is probably fine.

I’m deathly afraid of overcooking my Pasta Primavera vegetables. I’ve seriously got to get a life.



Remove the zucchini/squash, and add the ‘shrooms to the pan.



I add a little salt to these. Don’t ask me why because I rarely have a good reason for doing things. Go ahead and cook the mushrooms a minute or two, as you don’t have to be concerned about keeping them "crisp." Ain’t gonna happen.



Just look at your lovely plate of undercooked, crispy, definitely-not-overcooked veggies! Now’s the fun part: making the creamy sauce.



Into the empty skillet, pour 1/4 to 1/2 cup dry white wine. Mmmmm…there’s no greater smell in the world than that stuff hitting the pan.



Now add about 1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth. (If you’re averse to wine, go ahead and add a whole cup of chicken broth. But watch the salt later.



Stir in a tablespoon or so of butter.



Now you need to scrape the bottom of the pan. I love this flat whisk…



Isn’t it groovy? Any whisk will do, though.



Now, stir around, scraping the flavorful dark bits off the bottom of the pan. This’ll really add some character to the sauce.



Cook for a minute or two, until liquid starts to thicken.



Now add 1 cup whipping (heavy) cream. Oh, live a little. You can get on the Stairmaster later.



Now add 1 cup half-and-half. See? I could have used all cream, but I wanted to be health conscious.



Now take 5 or 6 fresh basil leaves.



We need to chiffonade the basil. Start by rolling the leaves into a somewhat tight ball, then make thin slices.



Hey! You just chiffonadedededed basil leaves. Your life is complete.



Now add a nice helping (about 1/2 cup) grated Parmesan.

And stir it thoroughly.



Now taste the sauce and add salt to taste. Also, add black pepper. Fresh ground is best, but not mandatory, for Pete’s sake.



Really go for it with the pepper. It belongs in this sauce.



Now add in the basil.



And stir it in. The basil rrrrrrrrreally makes this dish, so don’t be bashful.



Now dump in all the veggies…



Mushrooms, too.



And go ahead and dump in about 1/2 cup frozen peas right out of the freezer.



Now dump in the al dente (not overcooked; still has bite) pasta.



And stirrrrrrr together. Oh, geez, I’m getting hungry.



Now, if the sauce seems a little thick, or if there doesn’t seem to be enough sauce, go ahead and add a good splash of chicken broth…and oh, what the heck. How ’bout a little more half-and-half?



Oh, and a little more Parmesan wouldn’t hurt.



A little more salt & pepper, and we’re talking…perfection.



To serve it, I like to dump it onto a big platter.



Hello, gorgeous.



Wanna dance?



There should be some sauce collecting around the edges.



I like to throw some more chiffonade of basil all over the top, because I’m a middle child.



Here’s a close-up look at the freaky, delicious, ridiculous sauce.



Now go forth and make this Pasta Primavera! Your sensory receptors will never be the same.

And if any of you men try it, I want to hear from you. I need to believe.