Garlic Butter Bowtie Pasta with Ground Beef

Some nights I cook because I’m inspired. Other nights I cook because people are hungry and staring at me.

This recipe came from one of those second kinds of nights. The fridge wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t exciting either. Ground beef. Pasta. A lonely onion rolling around in the drawer. Garlic that was starting to sprout, which I pretended not to notice. I wanted something warm and filling, but not something that required planning or a sink full of dishes afterward.

I didn’t set out to “create” anything. I just started boiling water and trusted that garlic and butter would carry me through, which they usually do. Somewhere along the way, it turned into this garlicky, buttery bowtie pasta situation that everyone kept going back to for “just a little more.” Even the picky one.

It’s simple. It’s not fancy. It’s the kind of dinner you make in real clothes, maybe still wearing socks that don’t match. And it works.

Why You’ll Love This Recipe

I like this one because it doesn’t ask much of you. No special timing tricks. No delicate sauces that can break if you look at them wrong. You can cook it while helping with homework or half-watching something in the background.

It’s also one of those meals that feels comforting without being heavy. The garlic butter coats the pasta just enough. The ground beef makes it filling but familiar, not overwhelming. And the bowties hold onto everything in a way that feels oddly satisfying.

It’s forgiving, too. If you add a little extra garlic, nothing bad happens. If you forget the parsley, it’s still good. If you don’t measure the cheese, honestly, that might be better.

Mostly, I love that it feels like real food. Not a project. Just dinner.

Ingredients You’ll Need

Bowtie pasta is what I reach for here. Farfalle feels sturdy, like it can handle the beef without turning into a mushy mess. About twelve ounces, give or take. If the box is a little short, it’s fine.

Ground beef. A pound is what I usually use. I don’t stress too much about the fat percentage, but something in the middle works best so you’re not draining forever or ending up with dry beef.

Olive oil goes into the pan first. Just a couple tablespoons to get things going and help the onion soften without sticking.

One small onion, diced pretty small. I used to leave the pieces bigger, but I like how it almost disappears when it’s finely chopped. The flavor stays without the texture shouting.

Garlic. Three cloves, minced. Sometimes I add a fourth if it’s been a long day. No regrets.

Beef broth, about half a cup. This is what loosens everything up and gives the pan something to work with once the beef is browned.

Red pepper flakes are optional. I like a tiny pinch. Not enough to make it spicy, just enough to notice something’s happening.

Salt and freshly ground black pepper. You’ll know when it tastes right.

Parmesan cheese for topping. Grated, not shredded. I grab whatever’s in the fridge.

And fresh parsley if you have it. I won’t lie and say it’s essential, but it does make the bowl look a little more alive.

How to Make This Recipe

I always start with the pasta water. Big pot, lots of salt. Not aggressively salty, but enough that you’d notice if you tasted it. While that’s coming to a boil, I usually chop the onion and garlic, because otherwise I’ll forget and panic later.

Once the water’s boiling, the bowties go in. I give them a stir so they don’t clump, then mostly ignore them until they’re al dente. I don’t want them soft-soft, because they’ll finish cooking a bit in the skillet later. When they’re ready, I drain them well and just let them sit.

In a large skillet, I warm up the olive oil over medium heat. The onion goes in first. It should sizzle gently, not aggressively. I let it cook until it’s soft and a little translucent. Two or three minutes, maybe more if I get distracted.

The garlic goes in next. This part’s quick. I stir it around and wait until I can smell it. That’s usually my cue to move on before it burns, because burnt garlic is not forgiving.

Then the ground beef. I break it up with a spatula and let it cook until it’s browned and no longer pink. I don’t fuss with it too much at first. Letting it sit helps it actually brown instead of steaming. If there’s a lot of fat, I drain some off, but I don’t obsess over getting every drop.

Once the beef is cooked, I season it. Salt, pepper, and the red pepper flakes if I’m using them. Then the beef broth goes in. The pan will hiss a little, and all those browned bits on the bottom start loosening up. I let it simmer for a few minutes until the liquid reduces slightly and everything smells kind of amazing.

The cooked pasta goes straight into the skillet. I toss it gently, making sure the bowties get coated in that garlicky, beefy butter. If it looks a little dry, I drizzle in a bit more olive oil. Not a lot. Just enough to give it some shine.

At this point, I taste it again. This is usually when I add more black pepper. Sometimes more salt. It depends on the broth and my mood.

When it’s ready, I turn off the heat and serve it hot. Parmesan on top. Parsley if I remembered. Extra pepper if I’m feeling dramatic.

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Helpful Tips

I’ve learned to keep the heat moderate when cooking the garlic. High heat makes everything move too fast, and garlic doesn’t wait for anyone.

If the pasta finishes cooking before the beef is ready, that’s okay. A little olive oil tossed with the drained pasta keeps it from sticking while it waits.

Don’t skip tasting as you go. This dish is simple, which means seasoning matters more than usual.

If the skillet feels crowded when you add the pasta, it probably is. A bigger pan makes tossing easier and less stressful.

Leftovers taste even better the next day, in my opinion. The flavors settle down and get cozy.

Frequently Asked Questions

Final Thoughts

This is the kind of meal I come back to when I don’t want to think too hard. It’s familiar. It’s forgiving. It doesn’t demand perfect timing or perfect ingredients.

There’s something comforting about pasta and beef and garlic all coming together in one pan. It feels steady. Like something you can rely on when the day’s been a little messy.

I don’t always need dinner to be impressive. Sometimes I just want it to be good, and warm, and gone by the end of the night. This one does that every time.