Reconsidering pasta primavera

OK, quick word-association game.

Ready ... pasta primavera.... go.

Fern bar
Broccoli abuse
Gloppy cream
Shoulder pads, big hair, did I mention crimes against broccoli
There's got to be a steak around here somewhere

In 20 years of cooking for family and friends, I've always steered clear of pasta primavera. Tomato sauce was tomato sauce, veggies were veggies, and I guarded against any commingling like a nun at a middle-school dance. Call it the price paid for coming up in the 1980s -- I also avoid head bands and anything with horizontal stripes.

But then last week, I found myself awake at 1 am. I should have been resting for what would inevitably be a long day of trying to take work calls while stopping my 4-year-olds from pouring pancake batter on their heads, but I was wide-eyed awake. Can't-put-the-damn-book-down awake. I was reading David Kamp's United States of Arugala. And strange things happen when you read David Kamp at 1 am. For one, you may develop an interest in Craig Claiborne's sex life. Also, you start reconsidering things you thought you'd settled years ago, like pasta primavera.

Kamp traces the American version of pasta primavera back to Le Cirque in the 1970s. The descriptions of the dish's roots -- garlic, olive oil, basil and chopped raw tomatoes -- appealed to my stick-to-the-basics approach to summer sauces. So did the idea of seasonal cooking and using what ever vegetables were fresh and available. Somewhere along the way things had gone horribly wrong, but maybe there was something to the idea.

Fast forward three days. I get home late from work and face three hungry children, my grandmother's expectant eyes and a husband whom I'd like to thank for not complaining about my ever-lengthening work schedule. I need a 30-minute meal and unfortunately I've never watched a Rachel Ray show. Enter David Kamp. Maybe this is the night for new beginnings. I look in the fridge and find two sunflower-yellow summer squash and one lone zucchini. There are two scragglers in the carrot bag and a passable bunch of flat leaf parsley. No fresh tomatoes, but there is a large can of whole ones. Possibilities. A half a head of broccoli peaks from the bottom drawer, but there are some places I still won't go and broccoli in tomato sauce is one of them.

Here's what happened next:
- Put large pan of water on for pasta.
- Start with a large pour of good olive oil, wait for the fruity smell to rise off the pan. Then add crushed red pepper and five cloves of finely chopped garlic, let the garlic release, but not brown.
- Add a diced Vidalia onion. Let the combination sweat a bit.
- Remember that my Italian friend Nina said that her grandmother added grated carrots to sweeten sauces. Grab the two stragglers and grate them into the pan.
- While these are cooking down, chop the summer squash and zucchini into thin fine pieces ( I don't want them thick and soggy) and throw them into the oil. Let them fry a bit.
- While the veggies are cooking, chunk a large can of tomatoes. Add to pan with the juice and stir well.
- Turn heat down to medium or medium low and let cook for a few minutes. Add a few dashes (don't over do, far less than a tablespoon) of balsamic vinegar.
- While sauce is cooking, chop a few handfuls of flat-leaf parsley.
- Notice that the water has been boiling for a while. Salt the pasta water and add three quarters of the bag.
- Set the table.
- When pasta is almost done, add the parsley to the sauce. Stir well. Turn off heat. Add sea salt to taste.

Drain pasta and toss with sauce. Serve with parmesan cheese. Try to persuade 4-year-old not to build cheese mountains on her plate.