Tonight I parked at a meter. If you live in New York City you probably understand how desperate one needs to be to park at a meter at night. It means that you probably already spent 45 minutes driving around your neighborhood looking for a spot. It might mean that there’s a kid in the back seat, who’s getting whinier and hungrier with every passing minute. It means that you will have to get up early the next day, and spend another 45 minutes driving around the neighborhood looking for another parking spot (that is not at a meter).

It was with this level of frustration that I decided we were having faux penne alla vodka, and nothing else. Balanced nutrition be damned. The recipe is incredibly quick and easy, and a lifesaver in that respect.