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This time of year, I see a lot of requests for recipes that can use up a bunch of basil, but aren’t pesto, a caprese or stir-fry. When this came up again earlier this week, I racked my brain to come up with something unique or inventive, but I kept coming back to pasta.

Pasta often feels like the easy way out of meal-planning, but but sometimes things become go-tos because they are easy and good. Besides, there are so many different types and shapes of pasta, inviting endless riffing and reinvention. Tiny pastas (pastina) like star-shaped stelline, orzo and fideo are usually used in soups, but why not use them as an alternative to rice for summery pilafs and comfy, spoonable risottos?

You might be thinking, “isn’t that what couscous is for?” Yes, pretty much! Though couscous is technically not a pasta (it’s made of crushed, steamed durum wheat, not semolina flour), one of the oldest Middle Eastern pastas is keskasoon — basically the Syrian version of acini de pepe (“peppercorn” in Italian) and the precursor to pearl couscous, those BBs of toasted pasta better known to Americans as Israeli couscous. Though it was around for centuries in the Levant, toasted and packaged pearl couscous became a mainstay of the Israeli diet in the 1950s, during a national period of austerity.

There’s an interesting shared history with Japan here, actually: In both cases, following World War II, rice was prohibitively expensive, so the government hired a local food company to create a cheap, filling and mass-produceable alternative. Food rationing in the newly formed state of Israel was the impetus for Osem (now owned by Nestlé) to create ptitim; in Japan, Momofuku Ando at the Nissin Corporation came up with instant ramen to fuel the economic boom that drove Tokyo’s growth post-war. Both products are still staple foods today.

One of my favorite reasons to study culinary history is to gain insight into the rhythms of daily life for ordinary people of the past — it’s reassuring to know that throughout our time as humans, we haven’t just survived the same tragedies, but we’ve also discovered and embraced the same triumphs in the kitchen — breakthroughs that felt like miracles then, and forever changed the way we live today. Even in long-troubled regions of the globe, there is a shared culinary vernacular that creates an undeniable kinship (or at least new ways to use up too much basil).

Here, both the tough basil stems and a hard cheese rind bolster the cooking liquid with flavor and umami. Cherry tomatoes happen to be in abundance right now, but this simple dish would be just as nice with sautéed zucchini, grilled eggplant, or even chickpeas. Serves 2-4 (depending on if it’s a side dish or a main)

Note: Make this dish vegan by simply omitting the Parmesan and using olive oil instead of butter. If you do eat dairy, you can use any kind of hard-rind cheese here: Pecorino Romano and Asiago are both perfect with tomatoes and basil. I stash cheese rinds in the freezer for adding easy (and waste-free!) flavor to broths and stews.

Ingredients

3 cups water

Salt and pepper

2-inch Parmesan rind (if you have one laying around; no worries if not)

2 handfuls (~ 3 cups loosely packed) fresh basil with stems

2 tablespoons butter or olive oil (or 1 tablespoon of each)

1 dry pint cherry tomatoes

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 ½ cup tiny pasta such as stelline, orzo or acini de pepe

Shredded Parmesan cheese for topping (optional)

Instructions

1. Bring the water and a few pinches of salt to a boil in a small saucepan. If you’ve got a Parm rind handy, add it to the water, then reduce the heat to a simmer.
2. Remove the basil leaves from their stems, chuck the stems into the pot of simmering Parm water and cover the pot. Tear the basil leaves to coarse shreds and set aside.
3. Melt the butter and/or olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat, then add the cherry tomatoes and toss to coat in the fat. Add a pinch of salt and pepper and cook, shaking the pan occasionally, until the tomato skins begin to caramelize and split, about 5 minutes.
4. Add half the basil, the garlic and the dry pasta and gently stir to coat in the fat and tomato juices, then reduce the heat to medium low and cook, stirring, until the pasta begins to smell a little bit toasty, about 2 minutes. Season with another generous pinch of salt and pepper.
5. Add a ~½ cup ladleful of the hot liquid (but not the rind or stems — fish those out or just avoid them), and cook, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking, until the liquid is mostly soaked up, about 5 minutes. Add another ladleful of the hot liquid to the pasta and continue cooking, stirring and adding more liquid. You might not use all the liquid, or you might need to add a splash or two more of water to carry the cooking through — just follow the pasta’s lead.

On the last addition of the liquid, when the pasta is just a skosh past al dente, add the remaining basil leaves and stir until the pasta is tender and kind of loose and saucy like risotto. Taste and adjust the seasoning as needed. Add another pat of butter or dribble of olive oil if you’re feeling indulgent, then top with the shredded cheese.

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News Source : https://www.opb.org/article/2025/08/01/recipe-superabundant-summer-basil-tiny-pasta-history/