Cooking “The Goldfinch” Part 6: Manicotti

by Cara Nicoletti on March 14, 2014


On Monday, after months and months of work and a million sleepless nights, I finally passed in the first draft of Voracious to Little, Brown—all 240 pages of it. At first, I felt giddy, elated, free! A few hours later, though, I was completely lost. I had no idea what to do with my day. There was nothing looming over my head, no need to lock myself in my tiny office and put clean x’s next to my myriad checklists. I went out to drink a beer with my friends and, after months of solitary confinement, felt completely overwhelmed by the number of people around me—all that noise! Eye contact is weird! What do people talk about, anyway! I scurried back to my kitchen with comfort food on my mind.


There are a handful of foods that my mom made us when we were kids that I crave whenever I’m feeling sad or overwhelmed. One is a dish we called “mushgush”—a casserole made of potato coins, ground beef, sharp cheese, buttery Ritz crackers, and sweet onions. It looks as unappealing as its name sounds, but even the thought of it can steady my breathing. Another is a dish we called “Mrs. Peevey’s Chicken,” chicken breasts pounded thin, dredged in egg and flour and breadcrumbs, fried and simmered in butter and lemon juice and chicken stock and white wine and spooned over egg noodles. I don’t know who Mrs. Peevey is or why this is her chicken. That feels weird to admit.

(Update: The mystery has been solved by one Christina Rodriguez! Mrs. Peevey appears in Ruth Reichl’s first book, The Family Cook, where she teaches the kids how to make schnitzel. I like this chicken even more now)


A third is manicotti, which we ate a lot in my house, because it’s easy to make in huge batches and it freezes well. I’ve made it twice so far this week, because this week has been thrilling—worth celebrating and basking in, but hard and sad too, for a million reasons not at all book-related. Big changes, big goodbyes, these are the times we reached for the food we know.


The manicotti in The Goldfinch is significantly less comforting. It is eaten in an unfamiliar midtown Manhattan restaurant with Theo’s deadbeat father and his new girlfriend, Xandra. Theo washes it down with champagne despite the fact that he’s only thirteen—neither of his new guardians seem to care.

The food had arrived and I’d poured myself another large but surreptitious glass of champagne before they returned. “Yum!” said Xandra, looking glazed and a bit shiny, tugging her short skirt down, edging around and slithering back into her seat without bothering to pull her massive, bright-red plate of manicotti towards her. “Looks awesome!”
“So does mine,” said my dad, who was picky about his Italian food, and whom I’d often known to complain about overly tomatoey, marinara-drenched pasta dishes exactly like the plate in front of him. (198)


When we want to celebrate but we also want to wallow a little, champagne and manicotti seem like the perfect combination. Make this for your friends, drink all the champagne and try to remember how to make eye contact and carry on a normal conversation. Let’s think about all there is to celebrate, how sometimes big losses are only big changes and big changes can be blessings if we allow ourselves to look at them that way.


Serves 4-5
Tomato Sauce:
5 Tablespoons butter
1 28 oz can crushed San Marzano tomatoes
1 yellow onion, sliced in half and peeled
2 sprigs fresh basil
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper
salt and pepper to taste

10 manicotti shells

1 Tablespoon unsalted butter
1 small shallot, diced very fine
5 oz fresh baby spinach
1 ½ cups full fat ricotta
1 ½ cups shredded parmesan, divided
1 ½ cups shredded mozzarella, divided
salt and fresh black pepper to taste
2 eggs


Sauce Directions:
Melt butter in a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan. Add the rest of the ingredients and stir together until combined. Simmer over low heat until onions are soft and falling apart—about 25-30 minutes. Discard onions and set sauce aside.

Boil your manicotti to al dente in salted water for the time specified on the package instructions. While they are boiling, prepare your filling and preheat your oven to 350F.


Filling Directions:
In a small saucepan, melt butter. Add shallots and cook until translucent and soft—3-5 minutes. Add spinach and stir until wilted. Set aside to cool.
In a large bowl, whisk together 1 ½ cups ricotta, 1 cup parmesan and 1 cup mozzarella. Chop your cooled spinach and mix it into the cheese mixture. Taste this mixture and add salt and pepper to taste. Whisk in your eggs and stir until fully combined and transfer the mixture to a large piping bag.


Assembly Directions:
Strain manicotti and allow it to cool.
Spread a little more than half of the tomato sauce into the bottom of a 10×13” casserole dish. Using the piping bag, stuff all of the manicotti shells with filling and place on top of the tomato sauce in the baking dish. Cover with the remaining tomato sauce and top with ½ cup mozzarella and ½ cup parmesan and bake for 30 minutes.


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Leave a Comment

Neilly Robinson March 14, 2014 at 2:14 pm

Love this post and the photos. Esp using the piping bags!! So cute. xx


Gemma March 14, 2014 at 2:48 pm

This is amazing. Onward and upward! I love you, you’re so incredibly talented.


Nina March 14, 2014 at 3:12 pm

I know that empty aimless post-passing-in-draft feeling. It’s a stomach pit feeling and a what-now ache. You describe it well, and I like your antidotes, too. Congrats, Cara.


Elizabeth Aquino March 14, 2014 at 3:24 pm

You’re the bee’s knees.


marcy March 14, 2014 at 4:00 pm

Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.
You finished the book.
You made manicotti.
The world is yours
You are gorgeous.
I will text you later and tell you about Mrs. Peevey
Auntie M


Seymour Salett March 14, 2014 at 7:53 pm

Cara, the manicotti look delicious . Congrats on finishing Voracious !! That’s a great accomplishment . I’ll be looking forward to reading it, hope they don’t sell out before I get my copy.
I hope to see you one of these days on your book tour .


Linda March 14, 2014 at 8:50 pm

Another truly mouth watering dish. You’re amazing!


Anne Green March 14, 2014 at 9:10 pm

Delicious recipe and wonderful photographs. Haven’t read “The Goldfinch” but am enjoying your posts anyway.


india March 17, 2014 at 9:43 am

so insanely proud of you, cara! counting down the days til i can own my own copy of voracious.

also, it’s freezing outside & all i want all the time is cheesy pasta sooo making this tonight & re-reading my favorite parts from the goldfinch in it’s honor. (VEGAS VEGAS VEGAS.)


L.S. March 17, 2014 at 1:55 pm

These look so delicious. Love the theory behind loss and goodbyes and celebrating all at once. Life is funny that way.


Michelle April 23, 2014 at 6:56 pm

LOVE your blog!!! I am searching for what to serve my book club tomorrow night and was delighted to find your blog! I couldn’t remember what they had in the book (besides lots of vodka, pills and heroin).

Thank you!


Dorothy July 6, 2014 at 3:53 pm

I’m enjoying your blog almost as much as The Goldfinch. On my way to book club with your Boris inspired recipes. I made the Picked Eggs and Beets (first time I’ve ever picked anything), the Potato Salad and the Cucumber Salad. All look great and taste wonderful. I decided to bring the pickled eggs in the jar and have a jar opening moment with the girls.
I will pass your blog along to the book club members. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!


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