When I was younger, my parents both worked late. Some nights their meetings stretched past dinner, and I would fall asleep to the clack of keyboards and muffled voices on speakerphone. But one night, I stayed awake. Maybe I had napped earlier or maybe I just did not want the night to end. Either way, I was wide-eyed and hungry, and for once, so were they.
It was the kind of hunger that makes you open the fridge six times, hoping something new will appear. No luck. Inside, we had a few mushrooms, half an onion, one garlic clove and a carton of milk. The pantry offered half a box of pasta and the usual crowd of spice jars lined up like tiny soldiers. That was it.
But we were not worried. In our house, not having a recipe was never a problem. We never needed a recipe — just curiosity and a little luck. My mom got the oil heating in a pan. My dad started chopping onions like he was auditioning for MasterChef. I climbed onto a step stool and took charge of the mushrooms, washing them one by one with the kind of care I usually reserved for my Barbie dolls. My mom said I was being dramatic; I told her I was being precise.
The onions went in first, then the garlic. I handed off mushrooms like sacred offerings. My mom added milk, a few shakes of Italian seasoning, chili flakes, salt and pepper. There were no measurements, just instincts and guesses. The kitchen smelled warm and garlicky and slightly chaotic, which meant it was working.
We ate close to midnight, sitting around the table in mismatched pajamas, using spoons because the forks were in the dishwasher. The pasta was creamy, slightly spicy and exactly what we needed. I asked if we could make it again tomorrow. That was when we knew it was officially a family favorite.
After that night, it became part of the rotation. My mom started packing extra containers for lunch because my friends loved it too. There were never any leftovers.
Now, when I make it on nights between study sessions and late classes, I still do not measure. No cream, no cheese, no extras. Just mushrooms, milk, garlic and confidence. When my dad visits and walks by the stove, he always takes a deep inhale and smiles.
That is how we know it is good.
Creamy Mushroom Pasta Recipe:
2 to 3 Servings
Ingredients
- Half a box of pasta (penne or fusilli work well)
- 1 to 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 tablespoon salted butter
- 1 small white onion, finely chopped
- 2 to 3 garlic cloves, minced
- 1 cup white button mushrooms, washed and sliced
- 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
- Salt and pepper to taste
- Red chili flakes to taste (¼ teaspoon for mild heat)
- 1 cup whole milk
- Optional: grated Parmesan cheese for garnish
- Optional: a protein of your choice such as grilled chicken, shrimp or Italian sausage
Instructions
- Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook until al dente. Drain and set aside.
- In a large pan over medium heat, warm the olive oil and butter until melted. Add the onion and cook for 4 to 5 minutes until soft and translucent.
- Stir in the garlic and cook for about 30 seconds just until fragrant.
- Add the mushrooms and spread them out in the pan. Let them cook without stirring for a minute or two to help them brown.
- Then stir occasionally and continue cooking for another 5 to 6 minutes until the mushrooms release their moisture and most of it evaporates. They should be lightly browned and tender.
- Add the Italian seasoning, salt, pepper and red chili flakes. Stir everything together and cook for another minute.
- Pour in the milk and stir to combine. Let it simmer gently for 3 to 4 minutes until slightly thickened.
- Add the cooked pasta to the pan and toss until fully coated in the sauce. Taste and adjust seasoning if needed.
- Serve warm. Optional: Top with Parmesan or your preferred protein.
