This was a week that built toward celebration — quietly at first, then all at once. It started with a riff on a classic Italian pasta and ended with a Fourth of July party that had no business being as good as it was. In between there were Shaggy Coos steaks on a Tuesday, a pizza stop in the Financial District, a last-minute orecchiette that saved a hot Wednesday night, and a Thursday cookout with smoked ribs that ran all day. Some weeks you cook to eat. This week, you cooked to gather.
Monday: A Nerano-Inspired Penne That Earned Its Place
Monday started with a riff on one of my favorite Italian pasta dishes — Spaghetti alla Nerano — and it worked better than it had any right to.
No spaghetti in the house, so penne it was. The zucchini went into the pan sautéed rather than fried, which lightened things up without losing that essential sweetness. Butter, Pecorino Romano, and sliced grilled chicken pulled it all together. It wasn’t traditional. But it was deeply good — the kind of improvised dinner that reminds you that Italian cooking at its core is about instinct, not rules.
Nerano is a dish from the Amalfi Coast, born out of simplicity and what was on hand. Monday’s version honored that spirit, even if it looked a little different on the plate.
Tuesday: Shaggy Coos Steaks & a Night Worth Staying Home For
Early morning calls with Korea and London have a way of rearranging the day before it starts. The commute into the city didn’t happen, and honestly — it turned out to be the right call.
Staying home meant cooking dinner, and dinner meant two ribeyes and two skirt steaks from Shaggy Coos Farm in Easton. Four cuts of beef from a farm I trust, cooked the way good beef deserves. Sautéed garlic butter spinach and roasted red potatoes on the side. It was the kind of meal that makes you feel like the detour was the destination all along.
There’s a reason I keep coming back to Shaggy Coos. The quality does the work for you.
📍 Shaggy Coos Farm | 53 Center Rd, Easton, CT ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Wednesday: Pizza on Beaver Street & a Last-Minute Orecchiette That Saved the Night
The pizza pause didn’t last long. It never does.
Pizza Etalia on Beaver Street in the Financial District was the stop. The cheese slice was genuinely good — solid crust, clean sauce, nothing to complain about. But the sausage and pepperoni slice missed badly. Too much oil, soggy through, the kind of result that makes you wonder if the oven temperature was off or if it just sat too long. The foundation is there, but the execution on that second slice needed work.
Back in Easton by evening, the heat had followed me home. Mid-90s in the city, still thick and heavy in Connecticut, and the last thing I wanted was to fire up the grill or stand over a hot stove. Crackers for dinner felt like a genuine possibility.
And then something clicked.
Orecchiette with broccoli florets and hot Italian sausage in a butter, garlic, and white wine sauce — built entirely from what was already in the house. The pasta water, the sausage fat, the wine reducing into something fragrant and silky — it came together in twenty minutes and tasted like a meal that deserved more planning than it got. That’s what I love about Italian cooking. The pantry is always ready to save the night.
📍 Pizza Etalia | 20 Beaver St, NYC ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Thursday: The Cookout. Smoked Ribs, Burger Bar & All of It.
Thursday was a full day of cooking, and it was exactly the kind of day that makes summer worth it.
Friends came over. The menu was ambitious — Shaggy Coos ribs, burgers, and dogs; a Giada-inspired burrata salad with pears, cherries, mint, and toasted Italian bread; and a dessert spread that included strawberry shortcakes, s’mores, and — I’m not apologizing — Hostess Zingers.
The ribs were the centerpiece. I use the 3-2-1 method: three hours of smoke, two hours wrapped, one hour back on the grate. The dry rub was a blend of brown sugar, cayenne, chipotle, cumin, cinnamon, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes — a sweet-heat balance that builds over the full cook. For the wet stage I went with Fireball whiskey and Pepsi. It sounds like a dare. It eats like a decision you’d make again.
The burger bar had all the right components — rolls, tomato, cheddar or American, and a pan of caramelized onions that had been going low and slow all afternoon. The Sherwood Farm mozzarella and tomatoes went out as a simple side with my own fresh basil from the garden — its first real appearance at the table, and it earned it.
A cookout like this isn’t really about any single dish. It’s about the whole table being full and nobody wanting to leave.
Friday: Leftover Ribs & Burgers Off the Grill
Friday was a quiet one — washing the car, working around the house, letting the week decompress.
Leftover ribs from Thursday, reheated low and slow, always taste better the second day. The collagen has had more time to settle, the rub deepens overnight, and there’s something satisfying about eating well without any effort at all. A few burgers on the grill alongside them closed out the day simply and well.
Some Fridays are about rest. This was one of them.
Saturday: Fourth of July at Home & a Menu That Delivered
Polo was canceled — heat too much, even for the horses — so the Fourth of July became a backyard party, and the menu rose to meet the moment.
Apps were shrimp cocktail and a cheese platter. From there, the table kept building: a watermelon and feta salad with arugula, a Caesar salad, and grilled zucchini and yellow squash finished with whipped rosemary feta and toasted sliced almonds — a combination that sounds like it belongs in a restaurant and honestly does.
The mains were three skewer stations: cilantro lime shrimp, garlic lemon chicken, and sirloin. Three dipping sauces alongside — tzatziki, roasted veggie, and a garlic artichoke Parmesan sauce that disappeared faster than anything else on the table. Roasted potatoes rounded out the spread.
Dessert was a strawberry and blueberry trifle with pound cake and whipped cream — red, white, and deeply indulgent. And the drink of the night was an iced tea lemonade with Pinhook Bourbon, which turned out to be the kind of summer cocktail you keep making until the pitcher is gone.
Old friends. Good laughs. The kind of Fourth that reminds you exactly what the day is for.
Sunday: Leftovers
Sunday was leftovers, and that was enough.
After a week like this one — the cookout, the Fourth, the ribs, the skewers — the best thing on the menu was already in the fridge. No plans needed. Just a plate of everything that had been great a day or two before, just as good the second time around.
The week had already said everything it needed to say.
Closing Reflection
This week was a slow build to something loud.
It started quietly — a pasta improvised from what was on hand, steaks from a farm I trust, a pizza that half-delivered, an orecchiette that overperformed. And then Thursday arrived and the grill went on and the friends showed up, and by Saturday the Fourth of July had become a full production with skewers and trifles and bourbon lemonade and a backyard full of people who’ve known each other long enough to laugh without explanation.
That’s the best kind of week. The kind that earns its celebration.