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I believe dinner should make you feel like you’re wildly succeeding even if you burned half the garlic — also that comfort food is practically a public service. And yes, I am saying Philly Cheesesteak Pasta is the therapy session your week booked without asking. If you’re the kind of person who once made me a sandwich and then a pot of pasta (don’t ask), you might forgive this hybrid. Also: if you loved my creamy Philly cheesesteak mac and cheese, consider this the messy cousin who’s actually trying.

The time I singed my eyebrows making this (and other confessions)

Oh wow. I messed this up in front of company once. Like, dramatic smoke alarm type of wrong. I overcooked the steak into chewy sadness, and the peppers turned to sad limp ribbons that made noises I still can’t describe (a kind of wet sigh). The sauce separated in the pan like two people who should have just stayed friends. It smelled… ambitious? Burnt garlic is its own mood, if you are into that mood. My friend politely said, “It’s rustic,” which I now know means “we’re all pretending not to taste something.” I learned a lot that night. Mostly humility. And that I should never, ever multitask while browsing recipes and petting my dog. Also, the pasta clumped into a single angry noodle cluster. I cried a little. Then I ate the parts that were good because life is finite and cheese exists.

How I finally made it stop betraying me

Turns out the fix was boring and emotional: patience. Also, not leaving steak slices in a crowded pan like they’re roommates on a budget. I learned to let the pan be hot (but not hot like a small sun), to sear quickly, and to rescue the peppers from over-glossing. Little practical things, big feelings. The sauce—this is embarrassing—I stopped trying to “fix” it with more cheese and listened to it (metaphorically). A splash of cream, gentle heat, and the right provolone turned it from sad separation to clingy comfort. So now when I say Philly Cheesesteak Pasta I mean it in a calm, slightly smug way (but I’m still nervous every time I stir it). Also, I stopped apologizing for putting pasta into a steak sandwich fantasy. You don’t need to either.

Ingredients (plus my useless commentary)

8 oz pasta
1 lb steak (sirloin or ribeye), thinly sliced
1 bell pepper, sliced
1 onion, sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup heavy cream
1 cup shredded provolone cheese
Salt and pepper to taste
Olive oil

Sometimes I use what’s cheapest that week (budget wins), sometimes I splurge on ribeye because I am emotional and it’s a Tuesday. If provolone is playing hard to get, mozzarella will behave but won’t be as sassy. You do you.

Cooking Unit Converter

If you like converting cups to grams in your head while waiting for water to boil, here’s a tool to make that feel productive:

How this comes together (but not like a cookbook — I’ll ramble)

Cook the pasta according to package instructions. Drain and set aside.
In a large skillet, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add the sliced steak and cook until browned. Remove from the skillet and set aside.
In the same skillet, add the bell pepper, onion, and garlic. Sauté until softened.
Return the steak to the skillet.
Pour in the heavy cream and bring to a simmer. Stir in the provolone cheese until melted and combined.
Add the cooked pasta to the skillet and toss to coat. Season with salt and pepper.
Serve warm.

Also: don’t rush the sear (I say this and then literally rush). If the cream seems too thin, low simmer; if it’s too thick, tiny splash of pasta water (dramatic, but true). Sometimes I stir like I mean it, sometimes I poke the pasta with the spatula and judge my life choices. IMPORTANT: trust your nose. Probably.

Are you also juggling life while cooking or is that just my kitchen?

So tell me: have you ever stood over a pan and thought about your ex? Or is that only me? Do your kids eat anything that isn’t nuggets? Also, pairing this with something bright like a salad helps, I swear — a simple Caprese vibe saves the soul and balances the weirdness of melting provolone onto pasta. If salads are your thing (or if you need a foolproof side), I keep coming back to a crisp Caprese pasta salad that refuses to be boring. We’re all capable of tiny culinary miracles, even if they look chaotic on the plate.

Common questions, answered like I’m your overly honest neighbor

Can I use a different cheese? +

Sure. Provolone is classic here because it melts into comforting sadness, but cheddar or mozzarella will work in a pinch. Pro tip: avoid block cheese that’s been through too much—freshly shredded melts sexier.

Is sirloin OK or do I need ribeye? +

Sirloin is fine and cheaper; ribeye is buttery and selfish but delicious. Honestly, both are great because they end up in a cream bath and forget their differences.

Can I make this ahead? +

You can prep the steak and sauté the veggies earlier, but toss pasta with sauce right before serving. Reheating is fine but it loses a little charm (and sometimes the cheese clings to the pan like a needy ex).

Any tips for picky eaters? +

Layer flavors gently. Keep some plain pasta aside if you have someone who refuses vegetables on principle, then introduce peppers like a friendly bribe. Or sneak them in finely chopped. Deception is a flavor strategy.

Will this freeze well? +

Freezing creamy things is a gamble. It’s not the end of the world, but texture changes. Freeze if you must, but I prefer to eat my mistakes fresh and immediately judge myself.

This recipe makes me think about where comfort food came from (probably a happy accident involving too much cheese) and how small wins in the kitchen feel like real accomplishments. Also, I need to get dinner in the oven before I start a podcast episode and then forget both dinner and the episode. If you try it — say something. Or don’t. I’ll be here stirring and over-explaining and maybe burning a clove or two, but learning. Hey, actually I forgot to mention the one trick that always works but I’ll tell you later because I just remembered I left the stove on and—

Daily Calorie Needs Calculator

If you care about macros or want to see how this fits your day, this little tool is handy: