No, we don’t have a cat. My dashing husband is really quite remarkably allergic to cats. I’ve checked. Many moons ago I once neglected to tell him the house to which we had been invited to eat dinner was home to a cat. I had our hosts hide the cat, super-duper clean the house, and kept my fingers crossed. It’s the best he’s ever done – it took over an hour for his eyes to turn red and his nose to run and for him to start wondering aloud if he was coming down with something. Of course I felt horrible and have met the subsequent challenges of being paired with someone so allergic to cats* with the resolve of the British during the Blitz. Or perhaps I exaggerate.
The cat that is away, ironically enough, is my dashing husband. A quick business trip to the southland means I got to put cream in the pasta last night and boy oh boy did Ernest and I enjoy that! My dashing husband, as regular readers know, has certain dietary requirements and ideas and I try to humor him (especially since, it ends up, he really does seem to feel better when he follows them).
Instead of our regular pasta with greens that is such a standard around here I’ve stopped posting about it for fear of 1) boring you and 2) having a record of how often we eat it and being hauled away by the culinary police in case they exist, we had creamy pasta with greens – and I even baked it casserole-style for some crispy brownness on top.
It’s easy, fast, creates limited dirty dishes if you cook the “sauce” in the pot after you drain the pasta, and you can even make it ahead and then bake it if that’s how you roll (I’m talking to you, Mom!). Some people might want quite a bit more cheese in it that I used. Hell, I wanted quite a bit more cheese in it if there were no such thing as calories or saturated fat. Do as the spirit moves you, is all I can say. I can also say that this particular combination — with the cream to soften the rough edges — would be pretty darn tasty with a whole grain pasta for all of you out there with New Year’s Resolutions you’re still trying to follow.
* They are legion, now that you ask. We can’t stay with people who have a cat, which has proved most inconvenient more than once. Cannot dine at the homes of people with cats, which has put a damper on a many otherwise enticing invitations. And, of course, I cannot get a cat. I’m not sure I want one, but I can’t have one so I can flirt with the idea every now and again and feel deprived.