one-pot baked four cheese spinach artichoke pasta
It’s embarrassing enough to be 22, but it’s extra embarrassing to be 22 with ambitions that outsize the practical limitations of your reality. It’s maybe the most embarrassing of all to pretend this isn’t the case in front of other people.
This brings us to 22-year-old me in December, wearing an ankle-length puffer coat over pajamas in the frozen aisle at the local Trader Joe’s, trying to figure out how to self-cater a 30-person Christmas party the next day for a bunch of people I wasn’t even sure I liked. I would have to use a credit card for this purchase. All big plans of immature people seem like good ideas at the time until they’re not.
Let me be clear: there is absolutely no shame in serving frozen apps at a Christmas party. Show me the person out there who is making frozen Southwest egg rolls from scratch and I will Venmo you $20. But easy, low-lift items I felt a little embarrassed buying in frozen form—enough so that I felt it was almost forgivable if people just wanted to assume I did it myself, because that probably meant I should have. Regardless, I got a few frozen pucks of spinach artichoke dip in little paper boxes, plopped them into a baking dish, covered them in bagged shredded parm, and broiled it all until the cheese melted into a stretchy golden crust on top and the discs merged from four blobs into one, like four cells conjoined into a mutant monster. I sloshed it around the (square) dish a little to fill out the corners. I was sure this would be obvious.
Multiple people commented on that night’s spinach artichoke dip, calling it the best they’ve ever had. Which means the first “best thing I ever cooked” was a frozen baked dip puck collection with cheese on it. I may claim Italy as part of my origin story, but this is truly where I come from.
But… they also weren’t wrong. That dip was amazing. So now I’ll admit secret #2: I also used to buy one of those pucks just to heat on the stove and toss with pasta, creating sort of an elevated mac and cheese that felt perfect for the adult I didn’t know I wasn’t.
That dip is now discontinued, and here we are. If I ever forget how far I’ve come in the world, this is the story I have to remember.
like, just LOOK at this thing
Today, artichokes are just another one of those “why did I buy this” canned goods I always seem to have but never seem to use, probably because I keep purchasing them aspiring to someday overcome my weird hangups about spinach artichoke dip. But this is denial speaking, because this is not going to happen. I just put the can back and hope it eventually just evaporates so I don’t have to deal with it.
As it turns out, this recipe is an excellent way to clear that lingering can from the shelf once and for all. The problem is that it’s so good, you will likely go out and buy another can afterwards. What started as a project to use up random pantry items accidentally gave birth to a stellar standalone mac and cheese that is totally above and beyond any other mac I have ever made, so much so that I can’t really even in good conscience even call it mac anymore. It has ascended beyond that. It is just baked pasta now.
Technique-wise, “baked” is kind of a misnomer here. I’ve customized this to reflect my overall stylistic mac preference, which is cooked 95% stovetop before it ever hits the oven and is then baked for the minimum amount of time viable to earn the name. This is because I just don’t love baked pastas, period—I feel like the sauce gets pasty and grainy and weird—but I do love the cheesy top crust, which is impossible to get without at least some dry heat. We achieve the best of both worlds here without the roux or the drama by using cream and pasta water to bind the shredded cheese around the noodles, then adding a sprinkling of additional cheese on top that you hit under the broiler for a few minutes to brown before serving.
To make sure the whole “spinach artichoke” part of the dish isn’t texturally disruptive, I chop the chunky artichoke hearts into bite-sized pieces before folding them in. Being a Mature Adult mac and cheese, I like to use Mature Adult spinach here, which a) gets less soggy, b) has more flavor, and c) is a lot easier to chop than baby spinach is—although if you’re willing to thaw and cook the water out of frozen chopped spinach, that is a perfectly acceptable substitute.
some MORE notes
On pasta shapes: you can use your favorite chunky mac pasta shape with this recipe. Personally, I have never been an elbow mac fan, and consider cavatappi to be what elbows probably wish they could become when they grow up. It is not a shape I find in every brand or at every store, and for whatever reason it’s especially tough to find in a high-quality version that tastes expensive. DeLallo, featured here —who I have had listed in my “favorite pasta brands” section on my faq from the beginning days of this site—is one of the few that does.
How al dente is too al dente? Whatever your shape, undershoot it by 2 minutes from the minimum “done” on the package. It will continue to cook under the broiler. You want it to be ALMOST edible before you put it in the oven, with just a little crunch.
On cheeses: you’ll want to use a blend here that balances meltiness with flavor. Mozzarella and provolone are great for creating that stretchy cheese pull; asiago and parm are funkier, stronger, and bring real taste to the table. I clearly used all four, hence “four cheese spinach artichoke.” But I don’t have a lot of energy for grating, so the base was something called Pizza Cheese, which conveniently contains the first three on this list (I then added a separate parmigiano reggiano). That said, you can customize your cheese blend to whatever you have or is convenient for you to get. Just try to get a balance of melting cheeses to flavor cheeses in your ratio or it might taste a little flat.
Add-ins! Spinach and artichoke tend to be a little cliquey, and don’t often invite other ingredients to sit with them. But remember: we are Mature Adults here! You could add a variety of sturdy greens—kale, chard, mustard, even rapini—in addition to or instead of the spinach. Soak some panko in olive oil and scatter it on top if you want. Throw fresh chives on there if you have them laying around; I did, but I forgot. Brown some bacon at step 3 if you really want to be bad the best. Because I personally am having a Sundried Tomato Moment lately, I decided to sneak a few finely chopped sundrieds into this dish; the slight acidity cuts the richness of the cheese in a way I feel this iconic combo actually benefits from substantially, despite that I’ve never seen it included at the party before. First time for everything in adulthood.
If you have some you want to reheat: add a splash of milk or water and gently simmer on the stove covered until just warmed through, otherwise the sauce will break—still totally edible, just a little less good.
recipe
A mac and cheese so mature, it’s just baked pasta now. Four cheeses—mozzarella, provolone, asiago, and parmigiano reggiano—come together with spinach, artichoke hearts, and sundried tomatoes for a creamy, cheesy, one-pot pasta evolution of the classic party dip.
Effortful time: 10 minutes
Total time: 30 minutes
Serves: 4-6, depending on what kind of mood you’re in
12 oz. cavatappi, or any short noodle you love
2 tbsp. butter
6 cloves garlic, minced
14 oz. can quartered artichoke hearts, drained, rinsed, and chopped into bite-sized pieces
6-8oz. mature flat leaf spinach, rinsed well and chopped into bite-sized pieces (I use the stems! Just chop these very finely if you want to include them)
4-5 sundried tomatoes, drained
4 oz. mascarpone; or sub plain full-fat cream cheese if you can’t find this
1/2 cup heavy cream
Pinch of paprika
Salt and pepper
2 1/2 cups of shredded or grated cheese, 2 cups for the dish and 1/2 cup for the topping
Note: I bought a blend, but you want roughly 1 1/2 cups of melting cheese and 1 cup of flavor cheese
Choose 2 from the “melting” category: mozzarella, provolone, gruyere, or fontina
Choose 2 from the “flavor” category: asiago, parmigiano reggiano, white cheddar, pecorino romano
make it
Get prepped. Set water to boil in an oven-safe pot with a large surface area, like a shallow Dutch oven or a braising pan. Preheat your broiler—use the Low setting if your oven has it. Finely dice your sundrieds, chop your artichoke hearts, and mince your garlic. Chop your spinach into bite sized pieces and scoop into a bowl. Grate cheese if you’re using whole blocks; put those cheeses into a bag or a bowl just to make it easier to combine later. If you do the prep steps in this order, you can get away with dirtying only one cutting board.
Cook the pasta for 2 minutes under the minimum number required for al dente marked on the package. Save a cup of pasta water, drain, and set the pasta aside.
Build your base. Back on the stove over medium heat, add 2 tbsp. of butter to the now-drained pasta pan. Let this melt, then add the chopped artichokes and sundried tomatoes and sauté until soft, about 2 minutes. Now add the minced garlic, and cook 30 seconds more. Dump in ALL of the chopped greens, which will look really overwhelming at first, and stir to wilt them down into the butter-artichoke base. When the greens are fully wilted, and all the water they release has evaporated, you’re ready to…
Create the cream sauce. Pour in the heavy cream and add the mascarpone, then lower the heat to low. Season with salt, pepper, and a pinch of paprika (go easy on the salt; cheese adds a lot), and stir a few times to fully bathe everything until the cream mixture is very gently bubbling. At this point, add the pasta back in.
Cheese it up! With the pot still on the heat, add handfuls of your cheese blend—2 cups worth—stirring after every half cup or so to fully incorporate. You will start to get a lot of strings, which is totally fine. Add pasta water in splashes to smooth everything out. You should have a silky, creamy sauce with a lot of stretch by the end. Give it one final stir, turn off the heat, then scatter your final 1/2 cup of cheese over the top of the dish. It should be a thin, uneven layer, just enough to form a light crust.
Broil it. Pop the entire thing uncovered under the broiler. I do have a Low setting, and mine needed exactly 5 minutes to get melty and just a little bit browned. If your broiler only operates on high, you might want to check after 2 minutes so it doesn’t burn to a crisp. Only you know your oven! Just keep an eye on it; you’ll know. Serve generously in bowls and get cozy.