pasta bake

Making pasta can be a dangerous game. Unexpected peril lurks unseen around every corner, meaning every move you make could very well be your last.

I come from a long line of women who appreciate the finer things in life, a hearty bowl of spag certainly being no exception. Sometimes, however, I just don't feel like pouring my soul out into a giant pot of noodles to get my fix, and with the advent of contemporary home technology, I don't have to. My mother's patented pasta bake formula is one of those casseroles that will never let you down; I've seen her whip this thing up for birthdays, funerals, graduation parties, baptisms, bridal showers; if you can name it, this thing has made a guest appearance. Putting the sheer versatility of this dish aside, one will also find that it makes an excellent weekday supper, providing not only the initial delicious meal but also days and days of replay value in the form of many hot packed lunches for work leftover.

one quarter of a cup of gluten-free rotini

one half of a cup of the good stuff

two tablespoons of hummus

nutritional yeast

a squirt of olive oil

fresh parsley

fresh basil

Look, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to put this one together. Roll up your sleeves, get your hands dirty with me for a spell.

Is there any sight more pleasing to the raw human carnage growling from deep within us all? Within this pasta is enough fuel to get you from noon to dinner with enough surplus energy for a quick jaunt around the block in the meantime; boil it in salted water for seven minutes, and then run some cold water through them all afterward to prevent them from baking helplessly into mush in the oven.

This is called cooking the pasta al dente, a technique my ancestors tirelessly developed just for me. The humble noodle has come a very long way from its adopted european home, and even further from its place of origin in the far east; somehow, it's made it safely from the remote past right to our plates, and for that reason, I thank the good lord above every day.

Once your rotini is supple and ready to bear the burden of the fixin's, squish everything except for the olive oil around in a small bowl. Italian-Americans the world over will be able to look at this travesty and know I'm a complete fraud; this is where I introduce a bit of fusion cooking into the mix, combining pure Italian heritage with my ever-present white trash roots in an unholy marriage I fondly refer to as "backwoods pizza-joint chic." It ties together the best of both worlds, doing away with fussy pretension in favor of flavors so real and authentic you might find yourself looking into the possibility of acquiring some summertime real estate in such scenic locations as Rogers, Ohio, or perhaps the parking lot in front of the grocery store near my childhood home.

After everything has been mixed to your liking, grease down the oven-safe dish of your choosing and pack it all in, covering the mess that ensues with a piece of tinfoil when all is said and done. Bake at 350° for a good forty-five minutes, removing the foil cover for the final ten, or until the top is no longer wet.

I'm so pissed off just looking at this; I want five of them in my belly, right now. The hummus takes the place of both binding agents, which in a non-vegan context would generally be ricotta and an egg or two. I'm happy to report that you don't fucking miss them - the starchiness of the chickpeas really does tighten up the entire situation, making this plant-based sensation the perfect thing to bring along with you to your next vegan potluck, or wherever the hell you people usually go with your food.

Pasta pie goes great with any type of green side dish, but tends to pair especially well with a bright spring salad; you crazy little bastards really need to start working more natural fiber into your daily diets, and this platform gives me the perfect opportunity every week to harp on you all about it. Colon cancer is no joke; I'm not your mom, but I will make your well-being my business.