This Is the Baked Ziti I Actually Make—And Eat—At Home

You know how they say no two ziti recipes are ever really the same? I reckon that’s true. The first time I made this One-Pot Basil Chicken Baked Ziti, I overcooked the noodles by exactly… well, let’s just say there was a lot of crunchy surprise. Still, my cousin ate two helpings and called it rustic. Now, it’s a comfort dish on evenings when I just want to throw everything into a single pot—less mess, more flavor, and, okay, a sneaky glass of red with dinner if it’s been one of those Tuesdays. (Did you ever notice how Tuesdays seem longer than they should be?). Anyway, if you’re looking for something cozy but not fussy, this is honestly my go-to.

Why I Keep Making This (And Maybe You Will, Too)

I make this when time gets slippery or, to be frank, when the thought of piling up three pans in the sink makes me wince. My family absolutely inhales it—I mean, my partner doesn’t usually like basil but somehow it’s a “yes” in this combo (don’t ask me how that works). It’s super weeknight-friendly. Plus, if you’re ever frustrated with recipes that expect you to have an entire shelf of spices or five kinds of cheese, fret not—that’s not how we roll here. Oh, one thing: undercooked pasta is just…well, nobody loves that; but with this recipe, I’ve finally found my groove.

Grab These Ingredients (And a Few Handy Swaps)

2 tbsp olive oil (sometimes I use melted butter if I’m feeling rich in calories—my gran would say “don’t skimp on the good stuff”).
1 pound (450g-ish) boneless, skinless chicken breast or thighs—really, thighs are juicier but breast works, too.
4 cloves garlic, minced; full confession, I once used pre-minced jar garlic. Not ideal, but it does the trick in a pinch.
1 medium onion, diced (red, yellow, or even shallots if you’re feeling fancy).
2 cups marinara (Rao’s is fantastic, but store brand is fine—I won’t tell anyone).
2 cups chicken broth (start with low-sodium if you wanna control saltiness).
12 ounces ziti or penne (any tube pasta will do, honestly; I even tried rigatoni once, it’s all shapes to me).
1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese (sometimes I just grab whatever shredded cheese is melting in the fridge… whoops, meant ‘melting cheese’ type—and yeah, bad word choice!).
1/2 cup grated parmesan, plus more for serving.
Big ol’ handful of fresh basil, roughly torn (dried basil in winter, shh…).
Salt, pepper, pinch of red pepper flakes (if you like a kick).

How I Actually Make It (And the Little Things I Mess Up)

Heat it up: In your trusty Dutch oven or big oven-safe pot, get that olive oil shimmering over medium heat. Toss in onions and garlic—I sometimes add a pinch of salt here because someone on the internet swore it helps them sweat faster. Stir until soft, a few minutes.
Brown the chicken: Cube your chicken while the onions go (unless you chopped beforehand, in which case: kitchen gold star). Add to the pot and cook until it’s pale and just a bit golden on the edges. Don’t fuss if there are brown bits sticking to the bottom—those are flavor! (This is usually when I sneak a nibble if no one’s looking.)
Add liquids and pasta: Pour in marinara and broth. Bring things up to a lively bubble, then add the ziti and a good grind of pepper. Stir like you mean it so no noodles stick together in a lump—trust me on this.
Simmer and check: Cover and let it all burble away for 12–14 minutes; give it an occasional stir so nothing welds itself to the bottom. Pasta should be just shy of al dente—and don’t worry if it looks runny. It thickens when you bake it.
Cheese and basil time: Take off the heat. Stir in mozzarella, half your parmesan, and that glorious pile of basil. Mix quickly (it’ll smell a bit heavenly here. Seriously.)
Bake: Sprinkle the rest of the parm plus a bit more cheese if you fancy. Pop the whole pot (lid off!) under your oven’s broiler for 3–5 minutes or until bubbling and just a teensy bit burnt at the edges. Or, if your broiler is temperamental like mine, stick it in a hot (220°C/425°F) oven for about 9-12 minutes.
Finish and serve: Let it sit a couple minutes before scooping. If you try to plate too soon it’s basically lava—voice of unfortunate experience.

Stuff I’ve Learned Along the Way (Notes Section)

If you use whole wheat pasta, it needs a bit more broth. Don’t ask how I figured this out (let’s just say some scraping was involved).
Leftovers? I think it actually tastes better the next day, but don’t feel obliged—my house rarely leaves a bite.
I once tried doubling the cheese, but it ended up sort of gluey. So…maybe don’t.

If You’re Feeling Adventurous (Variations I’ve Tried)

Spinach—toss in a few handfuls with the basil for a bit of green (kids possibly won’t notice, or pretend they don’t…)
Sausage instead of chicken: pretty delish, just slice thin and brown before going on.
I once tried smoked gouda in place of mozzarella. It was…um, interesting, but not my jam. Maybe you’ll like it?

You Don’t Need Fancy Tools (But They Help!)

Big oven-safe pot is “ideal,” but I’ve used an old casserole dish after prepping everything on the stove. Don’t have a broiler? Just pump up your oven heat at the end instead, it works fine. There’s a pretty helpful guide to oven broiling here at The Kitchn if you want the nitty gritty.

Storing Leftovers—Though Good Luck With That

Officially: let it cool, then stash in a lidded container in the fridge up to three days. I reckon it’s freezer-friendly for a month or so, but honestly, in my house, leftovers last maybe another lunch. Serious Eats has the scoop on freezing pasta if you go down that road.

How We Serve This (And What’s Good On the Side)

I just pile it into bowls, give everyone more cheese at the table (because who doesn’t like a last sprinkle?) and a heap of garlicky bread. My uncle says it’s “criminal” not to do a crisp salad on the side, so, fair warning—it’s your dinner, though.

Little Lessons I’ve Learned (Pro Tips, Kind Of)

I tried to rush the baking-on-top step once; ended up with cold cheese and, yeah, regret. Give it that extra minute or two—even if it smells so good you want to dive in.
Pasta will soak up more liquid as it sits. So if yours looks too soupy at first, just give it a bit—it sorts itself out. Actually, I find it works better if you under-bake a tad then reheat for leftovers anyway.
Sneak in a smidge of the pasta water if it feels too thick on the reheat. Pro move, as my neighbor says.

People Have Actually Asked Me These (Real FAQ!)

Can I make this vegetarian? Honestly, absolutely—swap in mushrooms or just double the cheese, and you’re set. I did miss the chicken “chunkiness” though, so toss in a hearty veg if you care about that.

Do I need to pre-cook the pasta? Nope, and that’s the joy of it—straight into the pot! It soaks up all the flavor (and less to clean, which is key around here).

Is fresh basil really a must? Nah. Fresh is killer, but dried works in winter, or even a spoon of pesto for a real flavor wallop.

Can I add more vegetables? For sure. Zucchini, peppers, it’s kind of a clean-out-the-fridge meal sometimes. But careful with watery veg like tomatoes—they can make it soupy.

Any recommended reading for pasta sauce? Oh! Bon Appetit’s tomato sauce guide is a gem—if you want to DIY. Sometimes I do, sometimes I just can’t be fussed.

So, you give it a go and let me know if you have a weird family story that goes with it. Or tell me what swaps you make—I’m always up for a kitchen experiment (or kitchen fail, who are we kidding?). Happy eating!

One-Pot Basil Chicken Baked Ziti: My Real Home-Cook Guide