Rasta Pasta Recipe

Let Me Tell You About This Rasta Pasta (And That One Time…)

Hey friend! So I have to tell you—Rasta Pasta is one of those dishes that showed up in my kitchen kind of by accident. First time I made it, I’d just returned from a holiday where my suitcase was about 30 percent jerk seasoning (don’t ask), and my fridge was basically just bell peppers and a tiny bit of imagination. The first attempt? Let’s just say it was more “pasta surprise” than Rasta Pasta. But once I figured out the right heat and that creamy sauce, whew! It’s become a staple. I make it when I want something that feels comforting but still has a little Caribbean swagger. Also, my neighbor once walked in while I was making it and said, “What smells so good?”—which, honestly, is the best compliment a home cook can get. And if you’ve ever accidentally dropped a spoonful of jerk spice on the dog, well, we’re basically twins.

Why You’ll Love This (Or At Least Why I Do)

I make this when I want something spicy but not too fussy, you know? My family goes bonkers for it because it’s creamy, colorful, and you can sneak in veggies without anyone whining. (Though, for real, my oldest still picks out the green bell peppers. Can’t win ‘em all.) Plus, if you’re like me and sometimes get bored halfway through cooking, this one is super forgiving. I’ve burned the sauce once or twice. Still tasted great. And if you’re having one of those days where everything goes sideways, Rasta Pasta kinda fixes itself—just add more cheese.

Ingredients (And My Many Shortcuts)

250g penne pasta (or honestly, whatever shape you have. Fusilli? Works. I’ve even used rigatoni and no one complained.)
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, sliced (shrimp’s great too—sometimes I just use leftover rotisserie chicken when I can’t be bothered)
1-2 tablespoons jerk seasoning (Walkerswood is my go-to, but the store brand will do if that’s what you’ve got. Just watch the salt!)
3 mixed bell peppers, sliced (Red, green, yellow—pick your rainbow. Or just use what’s on sale.)
1 small red onion, sliced thin (white’s fine too, honestly)
3 cloves garlic, minced (but who’s counting—I love garlic so it’s usually more like 4)
1 cup heavy cream (I tried coconut milk once, and it was surprisingly nice for a dairy-free version)
1/2 cup grated parmesan (my gran swears by the fancy stuff, but bagged works)
2 tablespoons olive oil (or just enough to coat the pan—I’ve even used butter in a pinch)
Scallions and fresh parsley for topping (optional, but they do make it look fancy)

Alright, Let’s Make It (And Don’t Freak Out If It Looks Weird For a Minute)

First things first, get your pasta water going. Salt it like the ocean (I never measure, just a generous shake). Boil your penne until it’s just al dente. Drain but save, say, half a mug of the pasta water. If you forget, that’s fine—just skip forward.
While that’s bubbling away, heat olive oil in a big pan (I use my old skillet with the wobbly handle—not ideal, but it’s got character). Toss in chicken, sprinkle with about half your jerk seasoning, and cook until browned and cooked through. Shrimp? Only needs a few minutes. This is where I usually sneak a taste. For science.
Sling your cooked chicken onto a plate. In the same pan (don’t bother cleaning—it’s all flavor), add a bit more oil if it’s looking dry, then in go the onions and peppers. Sauté until they’re soft-ish and kinda starting to get those lovely brown marks, maybe 5-7 minutes. Add garlic for the last minute so it doesn’t burn; I always forget and scorch it, but hey.
Pour in heavy cream. Stir and scrape up any stuck bits. It’ll look a little thin at first. Don’t panic. Toss in the rest of your jerk seasoning and parmesan, stir well, and simmer till it thickens up—5 minutes or so. Sometimes it takes longer, sometimes it’s instant. I wish I knew why.
Now, back in with the chicken (or shrimp, or whatever). Add pasta. If it’s looking dry or too thick, splash in some of that saved pasta water. If you forgot, just add a bit of milk or even water. Mix it all together. Taste for heat—add more jerk seasoning if you like it spicy, or a squeeze of lime if it’s feeling heavy.
Serve straight away, topped with scallions and parsley if you’re feeling fancy. Or just eat it out of the pan. No judgment.

Notes I Wish I’d Known Earlier

The sauce thickens as it sits, so if it’s a touch runny, give it a minute. Or, you know, eat it as-is. Who’s checking?
I used to think parmesan was non-negotiable. Actually, I find it works better if you swap in a little cheddar sometimes.
Don’t skimp on the jerk seasoning. Mild is fine, but bland is boring.

Stuff I’ve Tried (Not All Winners, But Worth Mentioning)

I once made this with tofu instead of chicken. Wasn’t my favorite, but my vegan cousin loved it.
Coconut milk instead of cream is actually pretty good, but the sauce will be thinner. Add more cheese if you want.
Bacon bits? Oh wow. Not very traditional but so tasty.
Once I tried it with zucchini noodles—never again. Too watery (should have patted them dry, but hindsight’s 20/20).

If You Don’t Have All the Right Gear

I always say a big skillet is best, but my mate made this in a soup pot and it worked fine. No pasta pot? I’ve boiled pasta in a frying pan before—not pretty, but it works. And if you need to grate cheese and don’t have a grater, I’ve used a vegetable peeler in a pinch (just watch your knuckles, trust me).

On Storage (But Good Luck Having Leftovers)

Pop leftovers in an airtight container and they’ll keep in the fridge for up to 3 days. Reheat gently on the stove with a splash of milk or water to loosen the sauce. That said, honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day—someone’s always sneaking forkfuls straight from the fridge.

How I Like to Serve It (Not That You Asked)

I love this with a crisp green salad, but my partner insists on garlic bread (carb overload, but I don’t complain). Sometimes we pile it up family-style in a big dish and let everyone dig in, which is way more fun than fancy plating. A cold beer or ginger ale is basically mandatory. Oh—and if you want the full experience, crank some reggae tunes in the background.

Lessons Learned (AKA Pro Tips I Wish I’d Had)

Don’t rush the sauce. I once tried to speed things up and ended up with a weird, grainy mess. Let it simmer and relax.
Taste as you go—jerk seasoning varies a ton in heat. I made it too spicy for my kids once; had to serve it with extra yogurt. Whoops.
If the sauce looks too thick, add more liquid. If it’s too thin, let it simmer a bit more (or just eat it anyway; no one will know).

FAQ (Real Questions I’ve Actually Gotten)

Can I make this without chicken?
Totally! Shrimp, tofu, or even just more veggies work. Someone once asked if you could use pork—haven’t tried it but why not?

How spicy is this Rasta Pasta Recipe?
Depends on your jerk seasoning. Some are fire-breathing dragons, others are pretty mellow. Start with less, add more if you want to sweat.

Can I freeze leftovers?
You can, but the sauce gets a bit weird when reheated. I probably wouldn’t (unless you’re desperate).

What’s a good side?
I usually go salad or garlic bread, but someone once brought coleslaw and it actually worked. Who knew?

Is this authentic Jamaican?
Not exactly! It’s inspired by Jamaican flavors, especially jerk, but it’s more of a fun mashup. For the real-deal, I love reading My Jamaican Recipes’ version or watching YouTube tutorials like this one.

And just FYI—if your sauce breaks (that weird thing where it separates), just whisk it like mad. Or, worst case, sprinkle some more cheese on top and pretend it was always meant to be like that. Works every time.

So there you go—my not-so-traditional, slightly chaotic, but always delicious Rasta Pasta Recipe. Give it a whirl, and don’t forget to dance a little while you cook. Trust me, it helps.