Hey, my lambs! It’s Mariah Carey, tossing the mic and grabbing a spatula for Mariah’s Culinary Butterfly. Today, I’m dishing out a recipe that’s got my heart all tangled up—Salmon Pasta. We’re talking flaky salmon chunks mixed into a creamy, garlicky sauce, hugging every twist of pasta like it’s meant to be. I threw this together one late night after a recording session, craving something warm and easy, and honey, it’s been my comfort fix ever since. Pull up a stool—we’re doing this step-by-step, and I’m letting you in on everything.
I’m a pasta girl at my core—give me a bowl of noodles and a sauce to drown ‘em in, and I’m good. This one came to me when I was wiped out, fridge half-empty, just some salmon and a box of linguine staring me down. I started messing around—little cream, little garlic, some lemon—and bam, it was magic. It’s not fancy Italian nonna stuff; it’s my vibe—quick, rich, and full of soul. Perfect for when I’m too tired to think but still want something that tastes like love
We’re keeping it real here—me and you, boiling water, sautéing fish, laughing at my clumsy moments. Takes about 45 minutes, start to finish, and it’s a hug on a plate. Whether you’re feeding your crew or just curling up solo, this is it. Blast some Charmbracelet, grab a pot, and let’s get cooking, darling!
What You Need (For 4 of Us)
For the Salmon Pasta
- 12 ounces linguine (or whatever pasta you’ve got—fettuccine’s dope too)
- 2 salmon fillets (about 12 ounces total, skin off)
- 1 teaspoon salt (kosher, my go-to)
- ½ teaspoon black pepper
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 tablespoons butter (split it up)
- 3 garlic cloves, minced (big ones, ‘cause we’re extra)
- 1 cup heavy cream (no skimping)
- ½ cup chicken broth (or pasta water if you’re out)
- ½ cup Parmesan cheese, grated (fresh, please)
- 1 lemon (zest and a squeeze of juice)
- 1 cup frozen peas (or spinach if you’re fancy)
- 1 tablespoon fresh parsley, chopped (for the finish)
- Pinch of red pepper flakes (optional, for a kick)
Gear
- Big pot (for pasta)
- Skillet (wide enough for sauce)
- Tongs or spatula
- Knife and cutting board
- Wooden spoon
- Colander
Step 1: Boil the Pasta
Fill a big pot with water—plenty of it, like you’re making a bath for the noodles. Crank the heat to high, toss in a fat pinch of salt—makes the pasta taste alive—and get it boiling. When it’s rolling, drop in your linguine and cook it ‘til it’s al dente—check the box, usually 9-11 minutes. Stir it now and then so it doesn’t clump up like bad hair.
Scoop out a cup of that starchy water before you drain it—might need it later—then dump the pasta into a colander. Give it a shake and let it sit. Don’t rinse it; we want that starch to stick around for the sauce. I learned that the hard way—rinsed it once and the sauce slid right off. Never again, honey.
I’ve got this memory of cooking pasta in my first little apartment—pot so small I broke the noodles to fit. Still ate it, though, sauce and all, sitting on the floor with a boombox blasting. Start of something good.
Mariah’s Tip: Salt the water ‘til it tastes like the sea—flavors the pasta from the jump.
Step 2: Cook the Salmon
While the pasta’s going, let’s tackle the salmon. Pat those fillets dry with paper towels—wet fish is a no-go. Sprinkle ‘em with salt, pepper, and garlic powder—rub it in with your fingers, get it even. Heat your skillet over medium-high, add 1 tablespoon olive oil and 1 tablespoon butter—let it sizzle and foam up.
Lay the salmon in the pan—don’t crowd it—and cook 3-4 minutes a side. You’re looking for a light golden crust, not fully cooked through—it’ll finish in the sauce. Flip it gentle with tongs or a spatula; if it sticks, give it a sec, it’ll let go. Once it’s done, pull it out, set it on a cutting board, and break it into big chunks with a fork. Leave the skillet dirty—flavor’s in there.
First time I made this, I overcooked the salmon—dry as hell. Figured out it’s better to underdo it here ‘cause it gets a second round later. Live and learn, lambs.
Mariah’s Tip: Hot pan, cold oil—keeps it from sticking every time.
Step 3: Start the Sauce
Same skillet, lower the heat to medium. Drop in the other tablespoon of butter and let it melt—smells so good already. Add your minced garlic—chop it fine, no big chunks—and stir it around for 30 seconds. Don’t let it burn; bitter garlic’s a buzzkill. Pour in the chicken broth—scrape up those brown bits with your wooden spoon; that’s the soul right there. Let it simmer a minute, reducing a little.
Now the cream—pour it in slow, stirring as it mixes with the broth. Watch it turn all silky—pure heaven. Add the Parmesan, a handful at a time, stirring ‘til it melts in smooth—no clumps, honey. Zest the lemon right into it—those tiny flecks are gold—then squeeze in a tablespoon of juice. Toss in the peas—they’ll thaw quick—and a pinch of red pepper flakes if you like heat. Let it bubble soft for 3-4 minutes ‘til it thickens up a bit—should coat the spoon.
I’ve spilled cream all over the stove doing this—clumsy night, too much wine. Still scraped it up and kept going; sauce was fire anyway.
Mariah’s Tip: If it’s too thick, splash in that pasta water—fixes it right up.
Step 4: Mix It All Together
Dump the cooked pasta into the skillet—tongs work great here. Toss it around ‘til every strand’s coated in that creamy goodness. Add the salmon chunks—gentle now, don’t mush ‘em—and fold ‘em in. Let it all hang out on low heat for 2-3 minutes, just ‘til the salmon’s warmed through and flaky. Taste it—more salt? Pepper? Lemon? Make it sing your tune.
This part’s where it comes alive—pasta soaking up sauce, salmon breaking apart. I’ve stood over the stove eating it straight outta the pan—couldn’t wait. That’s when you know it’s good.
Mariah’s Tip: Don’t overmix—keep those salmon pieces chunky for the win.
Step 5: Plate and Eat
Scoop it into bowls—big piles, sauce and all. Sprinkle that chopped parsley on top—green’s gotta pop. Maybe a little extra Parmesan if you’re feeling it. Serve it hot—bread on the side’s clutch for the extra sauce, or just twirl it up solo. First bite’s creamy, garlicky, with that salmon hitting soft and rich—peas add a little snap, lemon keeps it bright.
Looks like a million bucks—pink salmon, green peas, creamy pasta swirls. Tastes like home, but better. I’ve made this for friends who’d never leave—kept asking for seconds ‘til the pan was clean.
Mariah’s Tip: Warm bowls keep it hot—stick ‘em in the oven a sec first.
Why I Love It
This pasta’s my late-night savior—creamy, cozy, with salmon that melts in your mouth. It’s easy but feels like a big deal—perfect for when I’m beat but still wanna shine. Try it, snap a pic, holler at me on Mariah’s Culinary Butterfly. What’s next, lambs? I’m listening!
Love,
Mariah