Let Me Tell You About This Pasta (It’s Saved My Bacon More Than Once)

If you’ve ever come home tired and hungry, only to realize you forgot to defrost the chicken (again), then you’ll probably appreciate just how magical a big bowl of Tomato Spinach Sausage Pasta can be. I remember the first time I made this—my son had a friend over, the fridge was looking a bit sad, and honestly, I was sort of winging it. Turns out, it’s one of those happy accidents that actually makes it onto the weekly dinner rota. Plus, it’s one of those rare dinners where nobody is complaining—well, except for that one time I forgot to add enough salt. But I digress.

Why I Keep Coming Back to This (And Maybe You Will Too)

I make this when I want something hearty but not fussy—or when I need dinner on the table fast-ish but still want to feel like I’ve made an effort. My family goes crazy for this because it’s got that cozy, tomatoey goodness and just enough greens to convince myself it’s healthy. (Don’t tell my kids, but I’ve even snuck in kale once or twice. They totally noticed, by the way.)

Also, can we talk about how forgiving pasta is? You mess up a step, and it’s still dinner. Burnt the sausage a bit? Adds flavor. Used spinach that’s seen fresher days? It all wilts in, trust me.

What’s Going In (But Honestly, Swap Stuff as Needed)

12 oz pasta (penne or rigatoni—though elbows have saved me in a pinch)
2-3 Italian sausages, sliced (sweet or spicy, or heck, use chorizo if you’re feeling wild)
1 tbsp olive oil (or, if you’re out, just whatever oil you have—one time I used some random sunflower oil and it was fine)
3 cloves garlic, minced (or a spoonful of the jarred stuff, no judgment)
1 can (14 oz) diced tomatoes (my grandma swore by San Marzano, but honestly, store brand works too)
2 big handfuls of fresh spinach (frozen is okay—just squeeze out the extra water or it gets a bit swampy)
1/2 tsp salt, more to taste
1/4 tsp red pepper flakes (optional—my kids revolt if I go overboard)
1/2 cup grated parmesan, plus extra for serving (or skip if dairy isn’t your friend)
Black pepper, to taste

How I Throw This Together

Get the pasta going. Bring a big pot of salted water to a boil—like, salt it enough that it tastes a bit like the sea (I used to under-salt and always wondered why restaurant pasta was better). Chuck in your pasta and cook until it’s just shy of al dente. Don’t forget to save about a cup of that pasta water before you drain it. I forget at least 1 in 3 times, so I set a mug in the colander as a visual reminder.
While that’s bubbling, work on the sausage. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the sausage and cook, stirring now and then, until it’s nicely browned and cooked through—about 5-7 minutes. This is where I usually sneak a taste (for quality control, obviously). If there’s a lot of fat, you can drain some off, but I sometimes just leave it for extra flavor.
Garlic time. Toss in the minced garlic and red pepper flakes (if using). Cook for about a minute—don’t wander off here, because burnt garlic is a one-way ticket to bitterness city.
Tomatoes dive in. Pour in the diced tomatoes, scraping up any tasty browned bits. Let it simmer for 5-7 minutes until it thickens a bit. Don’t worry if it looks a little soupy; the pasta will soak it up later. Actually, I find it works better if you let it bubble away uncovered at this point.
Spinach goes last. Add the spinach (I just cram it in; it always looks like too much, but shrinks like nobody’s business). Stir until wilted—about 2-3 minutes. If you’re using frozen, it’ll take a minute longer.
Bring it all together. Add the drained pasta to the pan, along with a splash of reserved pasta water, and toss everything together. Sprinkle in parmesan (more or less, depending on your cheese mood). Taste for salt and pepper. This is the part where the whole thing starts to look like a meal.

Notes From My Kitchen (aka Stuff I Learned the Hard Way)

Don’t skip the pasta water. I’ve done it, and the sauce ends up kind of clingy and weird.
If you go heavy on the sausage, cut back a little on salt at first. Some sausages are saltier than others—I once made this with a super salty chorizo and needed a whole jug of water after.
Leftovers are legit, but honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day!
Sometimes, I toss in a splash of cream at the end if I want it richer—no rules.

What I’ve Tried (and What Was a Bit Dodgy)

Once, I swapped spinach for arugula. Tasted good, but a tad bitter for my liking. Broccoli rabe? Too much of a faff, and way too bitter (although maybe I didn’t cook it right). Turkey sausage is fine if you want to go lighter—though, full disclosure, it’s just not as satisfying for me.

I’ve even tried tossing in a spoonful of pesto at the end. Actually, I find it works better if you go easy—too much and it overpowers the tomato. Oh, and if you like it spicy, you could try nduja instead of sausage, though I wouldn’t serve it to spice-averse little ones!

Gear I Use (But Here’s a Cheeky Shortcut)

I usually use a big nonstick skillet. But if you don’t have one, just grab any old frying pan you’ve got—I’ve even done this in a pot when all my pans were in the wash, and it was grand. A wooden spoon helps, but a spatula will do. And if you’ve only got a fork to stir, well, get in there!

Keeping Leftovers (Not That We Have Many)

If by some miracle you end up with leftovers, just pop them into a lidded container and chill—good for up to 2 days, maybe 3 at a stretch. You can reheat in the microwave or toss it back in a pan with a splash of water. I think this tastes even better the next day, probably because the flavors settle in and get friendly.

How I Like to Serve It (And My Kids’ Odd Traditions)

I usually dump it straight into big bowls, top with a bit more parmesan and maybe a squeeze of lemon if I’m feeling fancy. My youngest insists on eating it with garlic bread, and my eldest likes to add a dash of hot sauce (don’t ask me why, but it works). If I’m feeding a crowd, I put out a side salad and let people go wild. And sometimes, if it’s just me, I eat straight from the pan—less washing up, more honest living.

Lessons I’ve Learned (Sometimes The Hard Way)

I once tried rushing the simmering step and regretted it because the sauce was watery and just didn’t cling to the pasta. So yeah, give it a few extra minutes.
Don’t skimp on the cheese unless you have to. It’s kind of the glue that brings it all together.
And for the love of all things good, taste as you go—salt levels are sneaky.

Questions I’ve Actually Been Asked (No, Really)

Can I use any kind of sausage? Yep, pretty much. I’ve done it with pork, turkey, even the veggie ones (though you’ll want to add extra herbs for flavor).
Is it okay to use gluten-free pasta? Totally—just keep an eye because sometimes it overcooks faster. Actually, I find brown rice pasta works quite well.
How do I make it dairy-free? Just skip the cheese (or use a plant-based option). Once, I tried a coconut-based parmesan—wasn’t my thing, but you do you!
What’s the best kind of tomatoes? I’m not fussy. But if you want to nerd out, this Serious Eats guide is actually great. Or just use whatever’s on sale.
Can I freeze it? I’d say yes, though the spinach can get a bit floppy on reheat. More info on freezing pasta here: Simply Recipes has a handy post.
What wine goes with this? Ooh, funny you should ask! I usually grab a cheap red (hello, Aldi), but a basic Chianti or Montepulciano is lovely if you’re feeling posh.

And, totally random, but if you happen to have a dog lurking under the table, watch out—mine once made off with a sausage chunk when I wasn’t looking. Cheeky thing.