Harvest Pasta Salad Recipe

I believe pasta salads are the emotional sweaters of the food world — comforting, a little frumpy, and somehow still making people ask for the recipe at parties. Also: I will defend the Harvest Pasta Salad Recipe like it’s my kid in a spelling bee. It’s seasonal, a tiny bit smug, and yes, it pairs beautifully with second-helping regrets. If you think pasta salads are boring you haven’t eaten this one (or you’ve only had store-bought green-bean mayonnaise disasters — and no judgment, we all have a past).

I wrote this while the oven was still on and the dog was judging me. Also I may have cried over a squash once. Small things, big feelings.

How I turned a kitchen crime into something edible

There was a time this salad smelled like wet cardboard and regret (seriously — that specific soggy-paper scent that happens when you overcook pasta and then try to revive it with dressing). I remember the first attempt: the squash was a floppy orange puddle, the Brussels were burnt at the edges and singing (literal sizzle), and the cranberries had somehow staged a coup, clumping together like tiny chewy mutants. It was loud — pots clanged, I sighed, the smoke alarm offered moral support.

I dumped everything into a bowl like I was giving up and then tried to pivot with extra feta because what else do you do when you fail? Spoiler: more feta does not always equal success. There was a long, awkward silence between me and the salad. I even photographed it (for shame) and considered starting a side hustle called "Things You Shouldn’t Make."

Also, once I accidentally used maple syrup instead of balsamic in the dressing because my brain had left the building. That one smelled like childhood pancakes and then also betrayal. I tell you this not because I’m proud, but because, honesty, the recipe lived through trauma. And so did my ego. Kind of.

If you ever want a safe, boring fallback, I have a rigidly competent chicken caesar pasta thing too — it’s the adult in the group who files taxes.

Why this finally stopped being a disaster

What changed? I stopped pretending roasted veggies and pasta are interchangeable. I learned to respect texture—crispy bits, not mushy defeat. I gave the butternut squash enough time to caramelize at the edges (tiny pockets of joy), and I let the Brussels sprouts be halved so they could be sassy instead of soggy. Emotionally, I stopped apologizing and started tasting. Practically, I timed the pasta so it wasn’t clingy and then I cooled it slightly before dressing — because hot pasta + vinaigrette = wilted everything.

This Harvest Pasta Salad Recipe started working when I stopped trying to make dinner a philosophical debate and just let it be a salad. There is still that little voice that whispers "are you sure?" when I serve it to guests, so confidence + dread, which I find reliable.

What you need (and also, little notes about money and texture and whether your store will have this today)

• 2 cups cooked pasta (penne or fusilli recommended)
• 1 cup roasted butternut squash, cubed
• 1/2 cup roasted Brussels sprouts, halved
• 1/2 cup dried cranberries
• 1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese
• 1/4 cup chopped walnuts
• 1/4 cup balsamic vinaigrette

You can swap walnuts for pecans if you’re trying to be trendy or fewer walnuts if you’re trying to be fiscally conservative; dried cranberries are often cheaper in bulk, and feta keeps the whole thing from sliding into sweet-salad territory. If you’re on a budget, roast extra squash and make it lunch for three days.

Cooking Unit Converter

Quick conversions so you don’t do math in the middle of an emotional roast: use this little tool for cups to grams and back.

How to actually get this on the table (but in my voice, which is messy)

• In a large bowl, add the cooked pasta, roasted butternut squash, Brussels sprouts, dried cranberries, feta cheese, and walnuts.
• Drizzle with balsamic vinaigrette and toss everything together until evenly coated.
• Enjoy immediately or chill for later. This salad is delicious both warm and cold!

Also: sometimes I toss with a little lemon if I’m feeling bright and frantic; sometimes I forget the nuts and add them later for crunch (timing matters). If your pasta is hot, WAIT A MOMENT — you do not want melty feta puddles unless you’re intentionally doing a warm cheese meltdown. Pro tip? Not a tip. Try it once and decide if you like chaos.

If you’re in a "make it like a meal" mood, there’s a chicken Caesar-adjacent route that bulked up my last potluck, fyi.

Okay, real talk — is your kitchen a haunted sitcom or just mine?

Do you also make dinner and then realize you’ve been seasoning your life decisions more than the food? Who roasts a squash and then opens a bag of chips because the oven timer was… aspirational? Tell me your weird swaps. Are you team warm-salad or team fridge-for-hours? I assume you have opinions; I have a lengthy diatribe about why cold feta is underrated.

Also: how many people bring pasta salads to holidays and then claim they’re "just sides" while everyone secretly refuses to stop scooping? Confess. I won’t judge — mostly because I do the same.

If you want a crunchy, extra-greens variant, that one taught me that kale is not my enemy, it’s just loud.

I keep thinking I should have a neat sign-off but then the dog jumped on my lap and I started planning a second batch because leftovers are therapy and also because what if someone brings bread and then —