Recipe: Moving Week Pantry Pasta

capers, garlic and a few tears

It’s 5am and I can’t sleep.

It’s actually probably 2am according to my body which is on west coast time and that makes sense because I honestly can’t remember the last time I slept through the night - breakup or no breakup, I’ve always been an insomniac. Tonight’s bout of insomnia can be explained by the fact that it’s packing/moving week. My apartment (ex apartment? Former apartment?) is in total chaos which is not playing well with my compulsively clean tendencies.

It dawned on me earlier this month that this will be my first real move during my time in New York. My first place back in 2016 was a furnished room I was subleasing from a lovely dancer who’d run off to do a show in Chicago so when I left to move in with my boyfriend, all I had to do was pack my clothes in a suitcase and Uber over. We did “move” once from that initial apartment to an apartment that was literally right next door (it was bigger and came with a rooftop which made it hot NYC real estate) and that was annoying but not a MOVE you know? No moving companies, no U-Haul, none of that – just annoying amounts of trips up and down many stairs and some much-needed help from Angel, a guy I worked with at the restaurant where I was cooking at the time.

So yeah, this is my first real move. I literally don’t know what I’m doing or how to do it but thankfully my sister, Natalia, is here leading the charge as I try to figure out why the f*ck I have 4 jars of cinnamon and drink too many glasses of wine.

Moving is an excruciating process any way you cut it, but the excruciating-ness of this move is strongly exacerbated by the emotional circumstances underlying it. After the move is done, the breakup is done. The “transition” is over. So what’s next? What do I do? Is living alone for the first time ever gonna be super weird and lonely and scary? I have no idea how to answer any of those questions. But I do know that in the meantime, I have to eat.

the beginning of something wonderful

I’m viscerally uncomfortable about wasting food – a bi-product of having Holocaust-surviving grandparents and Soviet refugee parents, no question - which means packing up my pantry has been a nightmare. How do I let go of the random set of fancy salts someone gave me 5 years ago that I never opened? What if I’ll use them *one day*?? (have literally never used flavored salts in my life but who knows, I may become a new person in my new apartment). How about the 4 half-empty boxes of pasta? How about the jar of tomato sauce that’s been chillin’ in the back of the cupboard for 3 years waiting for its time to shine? (the time to shine is never - I use pre-made tomato sauce like twice a year).

If I were a smart, seasoned mover I’d probably have left food items/kitchen stuff to the end since I need to, you know, eat - but it’s the only part of this apartment I really, REALLY care about. I can start over when it comes to almost anything but I am emotionally attached to my spices, my pans, my cookbooks. They are mine and mine fully so bringing them to the new place doesn’t feel like a setback, it feels like a comfort.

I know it would be easier to just order some takeout and call it a day but I love this kitchen. I’ve cooked so many amazing meals on that tiny stove. I’ve watched so many friends and family members gather around that narrow, rickety island. I’ve spilled and broken so many things on that tile floor. The love I’ve invested in this kitchen is never going to go away – and I want to cook there one last time.

So what do I have left that’s not packed away?

I have a tiny jar of capers, some opened anchovies in the fridge, some rosemary that’s definitely on its deathbed, and lots of garlic which means it’s time for the GOAT: pantry pasta. It’s quick, it’s forgiving, it’s totally adaptable and whether or not you’re moving, you’re gonna love it.

messy, garlicky, oily perfection

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Moving Week Pantry Pasta

WHAT YOU NEED

1/2 lb pasta

1/3 cup capers, drained

1/4 cup olive oil

4 cloves garlic, minced

6ish anchovy filets

1 sprig rosemary (optional)

Chili flakes or bomba calabrese to taste

¼ cup pasta water

Salt to taste

Lemon juice to taste (optional)

WHAT YOU DO

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add pasta and cook according to directions.

Meanwhile, heat a couple tablespoons of olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the drained capers and allow to cook until they get crispy-ish. This might not ever happen (sometimes the capers are still too wet) but just give it a shot. Remove the fried capers with a slotted spoon and set aside.

Reduce the heat to medium and add garlic to the skillet along with a couple more tablespoons of olive oil. Once it becomes fragrant add a sprig of rosemary and anchovies. Stir until the anchovies dissolve. Add chili flakes or bomba calabrese if you’re trying to make things spicy (highly recommend).

Add the cooked pasta to the skillet along with ¼ cup pasta water and toss vigorously until all the pasta is coated. Salt to taste and top with fried capers and a squeeze of lemon juice (or a drizzle of caper juice).

pantry pasta with a side of my life packed into boxes!