It was cold. I mean that kind of cold where your bones feel like they need soup—but not just soup, something that hugs you back. I had a pound of sausage, a hunk of fontina I forgot I bought, and a can of beans just sitting there like, “Ma’am?” And somehow—between stirring sauce and yelling at the dog to stop licking the dishwasher—I ended up with this.
Cheesy. Baked. Pasta. Fagioli.
It’s kind of like if lasagna and chili had a baby… and then that baby married mac & cheese. And let me tell you, the marriage is strong.
Why You’ll Keep Coming Back to This Dish
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It’s the food equivalent of flannel pajamas.
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You can feed a small army—or just eat leftovers all week and not hate yourself.
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One dish, all the comfort. No soup pot here, just cheesy, meaty, pasta-loaded goodness.
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Four cheeses. FOUR. If that’s not a selling point, I don’t know what is.
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It’s chaos-friendly. I made this while my youngest was throwing Legos and it still turned out great.
What You’ll Need (and What You Can Totally Improvise)
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1 lb. Italian sausage — Sweet, spicy, or whatever was on sale last week.
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1 lb. ground beef — Or turkey, or skip it and just double up on beans. I’m not the protein police.
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2 tablespoons olive oil — If you measure it, I’m impressed.
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1 onion, diced — Yellow, white, shallots in a pinch. Just get something aromatic in there.
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6 cloves garlic, minced — Yes, six. Don’t argue.
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1 tbsp dried oregano + 2 tbsp dried basil — Or toss in Italian seasoning and call it a day.
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6 oz. tomato paste — Adds that deep “I cooked this for hours” flavor.
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28 oz. can diced tomatoes — Fire-roasted if you’re fancy. Plain works too.
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15 oz. can kidney beans — Drain ‘em. Or sub cannellini beans if you’re feeling soft and creamy.
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1 lb. ditalini pasta — Macaroni or mini shells work too. Just nothing too floppy.
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Cheeses (yes, plural):
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¼ cup grated Parmesan
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1 cup ricotta
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1 cup grated fontina (melts like a dream)
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1 cup grated mozzarella (classic, stretchy goodness)
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Fresh parsley — Not mandatory, but makes you look like you know what you’re doing.
How to Make This
Step 1: Start with the meat
Grab your biggest pot. Heat the olive oil and toss in your sausage and ground beef. Season with salt and pepper. Brown it up until the meat’s got some color—not gray, not sad. Just right.
Step 2: Layer the flavor
Add your diced onion and garlic. Stir ‘til your kitchen smells like grandma’s been here. Toss in the herbs and that thick tomato paste. Let it cook down for a couple of minutes—it’ll stick to the bottom a bit, and that’s okay. That’s flavor.
Step 3: Boil your pasta
Get a big pot of salted water going and cook your pasta just until al dente. It’s going in the oven later, so don’t overdo it. Drain and set it aside.
Step 4: Get it saucy
Back to the meat pot—add diced tomatoes and beans. Scrape the bottom to lift all those tasty bits. Simmer low for 10–15 minutes, and give it a taste. You’re the boss here. Maybe it needs salt. Maybe a pinch of sugar. Trust your tongue.
Step 5: Mix and melt
Turn off the heat, stir in the pasta, and toss in a generous handful of shredded cheese. Let everything get cozy.
Step 6: Build your bake
Pour half the pasta mixture into a 9×13 baking dish. Drop dollops of ricotta, then layer on fontina, mozzarella, and Parmesan. Then do it again—pasta, ricotta, more cheese. Yes, all of it. Don’t hold back now.
Step 7: Bake it like you mean it
Bake at 375°F for 30 minutes. You want golden, bubbling, borderline-too-hot-to-eat cheese. Broil for 2 minutes if you’re craving crispy edges.
Step 8: Sprinkle and serve
Fresh parsley on top (if you remembered). Then serve it hot, preferably with something crusty to mop up the saucy bits.
Variations? Sure. But This One’s Pretty Perfect Already
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No meat? Double the beans. Add some mushrooms if you’re into that sort of thing.
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Want heat? A little red pepper flake or spicy sausage goes a long way.
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Different cheese? Provolone, gouda, or even sharp cheddar work if you’re running low. Just don’t skip the ricotta. She’s the heart of it all.
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Feeling veggie-ish? Stir in some spinach or zucchini during the simmer. No one will complain.

