Garlic-Tomato Pasta with Peas

Garlic-Tomato Pasta with Peas might be a good recipe to expand your main course recipe box. This recipe serves 4 and costs 88 cents per serving. One serving contains 457 calories, 15g of protein, and 17g of fat. 354 people have tried and liked this recipe. If you have parmesan cheese, fresh basil, red pepper flakes, and a few other ingredients on hand, you can make it. From preparation to the plate, this recipe takes roughly 25 minutes. It is brought to you by Foodnetwork. With a spoonacular score of 96%, this dish is tremendous. Similar recipes are Pasta with Peas, Garlic and Ricotta Salata, Ham and Peas Pasta with Garlic Parmesan Cream Sauce, and Pasta with Snap Peas, Garlic, Lemon Zest, and Black Pepper (vegan).

Servings: 4

Preparation duration: 10 minutes

Cooking duration: 15 minutes

 

Ingredients:

10 ounces angel hair pasta

1/2 cup fresh basil, roughly chopped, plus more for topping

6 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

Kosher salt

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese (about 1 ounce)

1 cup frozen peas, thawed

1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes

3 tablespoons tomato paste

Equipment:

pot

frying pan

Cooking instruction summary:

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook, stirring constantly, until the edges start turning golden, about 1 minute. Add the tomato paste to the skillet and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Add the red pepper flakes, then add 1 1/2 cups of the boiling water; stir to dissolve the tomato paste. Simmer until reduced by half, about 5 minutes, adding the peas halfway through. Season with salt. Meanwhile, add the pasta to the boiling water and cook until softened but not cooked through, 2 to 4 minutes. Reserve 1/2 cup cooking water, then drain. Add the pasta to the skillet along with the basil; toss over medium heat, adding more of the reserved cooking water if needed, until the pasta is al dente. Remove from the heat and stir in 1/4 cup parmesan. Top each serving with basil and the remaining parmesan. Photograph by Justin Walker

 

Step by step:


1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.

2. Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat.

3. Add the garlic and cook, stirring constantly, until the edges start turning golden, about 1 minute.

4. Add the tomato paste to the skillet and cook, stirring, 1 minute.

5. Add the red pepper flakes, then add 1 1/2 cups of the boiling water; stir to dissolve the tomato paste. Simmer until reduced by half, about 5 minutes, adding the peas halfway through. Season with salt.

6. Meanwhile, add the pasta to the boiling water and cook until softened but not cooked through, 2 to 4 minutes. Reserve 1/2 cup cooking water, then drain.

7. Add the pasta to the skillet along with the basil; toss over medium heat, adding more of the reserved cooking water if needed, until the pasta is al dente.

8. Remove from the heat and stir in 1/4 cup parmesan. Top each serving with basil and the remaining parmesan.

9. Photograph by Justin Walker


Nutrition Information:

Quickview
457k Calories
14g Protein
16g Total Fat
62g Carbs
33% Health Score
Limit These
Calories
457k
23%

Fat
16g
26%

  Saturated Fat
3g
20%

Carbohydrates
62g
21%

  Sugar
5g
6%

Cholesterol
4mg
2%

Sodium
411mg
18%

Get Enough Of These
Protein
14g
29%

Selenium
48µg
69%

Manganese
0.95mg
47%

Vitamin K
31µg
30%

Phosphorus
241mg
24%

Vitamin C
19mg
23%

Fiber
4g
19%

Vitamin E
2mg
18%

Copper
0.34mg
17%

Magnesium
60mg
15%

Vitamin A
711IU
14%

Vitamin B6
0.26mg
13%

Calcium
126mg
13%

Vitamin B3
2mg
12%

Vitamin B1
0.18mg
12%

Zinc
1mg
12%

Iron
2mg
12%

Potassium
404mg
12%

Folate
40µg
10%

Vitamin B2
0.14mg
8%

Vitamin B5
0.43mg
4%

Vitamin B12
0.09µg
1%

covered percent of daily need
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Food Trivia

Death row inmates in Texas don't get to pick their last meal.

Food Joke

Calling in Sick... A Cat Owner's Story Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable because no matter how legitimate my illness, I always sense my boss thinks I am lying. On one occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway because the truth was too humiliating to reveal. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on my crown. In this case, the truth hurt. I mean it really hurt in the place men feel the most pain. The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. As the daily routine prescribes, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife call out to me from the kitchen. "Ed!" she hearkened. "The garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it." "You know where the button is." I protested through the shower . "Reset it yourself!" "I am scared!" She pleaded. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?" Pause. "C'mon, it'll only take a second." No logical assurance about how a disposal can't start itself will calm the fears of a person who suffers from "Big-ol-scary-machinephobia," a condition brought on by watching too many Stephen King movies. It is futile to argue or explain, kind of like Lloyd Bentsen telling Americans they are over-taxed. And if a poltergeist did, in fact, possess the disposal, and she was ground into round, I'd have to live with that the rest of my life. So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a statement about how her cowardly behavior was not without consequence but it was I who would suffer. I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing. It struck without warning. Nay, it wasn't a hexed disposal drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects she spied between my legs. She ("Buttons" aka "the Grater") had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I took the bait under the sink. At precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws. Now when men feel pain or even sense danger anywhere close to their masculine region, they lose all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements. Instinctively, their nerves compel the body to contort inwardly, while rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed. Not even a well-trained monk could calmly stand with his groin supporting the full weight of a kitten and rectify the situation in a step-by-step procedure. Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome; men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. Fleeing straight up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when it is alarmed. It was a dismal irony. But, whereas cats seek great heights to escape, I never made it that far. The sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the impact knocked me out cold. When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics snorted as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing their hysterical laughter. My wife told me I should be flattered. At the office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" If they had only known.

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