Perfect Pasta at Home - Pasta Evangelists

CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
INTRODUCTION
A PASTAIA’S PANTRY
ITALY: A STORY OF 20 REGIONS
PART 1: 10 MINUTES
PART 2: 20 MINUTES
PART 3: 30 MINUTES
PART 4: SPECIAL RECIPES
HOW TO MAKE FRESH DOUGH

SEVEN SIMPLE SHAPES
RECOMMENDED SUPPLIERS
GRAZIE
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
CONVERSION TABLES
COPYRIGHT
INTRODUCTION
First and foremost, grazie for picking up our book. We are Pasta
Evangelists, a fresh pasta company based in London. We started the
business back in 2016, delivering our first batch of freshly made
gnocchi and basil pesto to friends. Fortunately, they liked it, word got
out, and by the end of 2017 we were delivering boxes of our fresh
pasta and sauces to a couple of hundred Londoners every week. A
year later, Harrods was renovating its food hall and invited us to
open our first fresh pasta concession there. We were a bit taken
aback to be asked – we were barely a business! – but immensely
proud. Of course we said yes, even though we knew nothing about
retail, let alone in one of the world’s most famous department stores.
A few years on, our team is still there, and we take immense
pleasure in serving (and talking about) pasta all day long.
Mainly, though, we’re a pasta subscription company, offering
boxes of freshly made pasta, authentic sauces and garnishes from
Italy to our wonderful customers in all corners of the UK. At
pastaevangelists.com, we have a menu of 15 different dishes each
week, showcasing the wonderful and limitless world of pasta. In this
book, we’ve included many of our favourite recipes, as well as some
of the best-sellers from our website. We hope you’ll enjoy making
them and would love to hear from you – please do tag us on
Facebook, Twitter or Instagram at @pastaevangelists.
Before you dive straight in, though, we want to tell you a bit about
who we are and where we come from. Italian culture is full of stories
and we are no different.
Roberta
One of our favourite recipes in this book, Orecchiette with Rocket
and Potatoes (see here), is based on Roberta’s memory of growing
up in Puglia, a sun-drenched region of the Italian south. In this arid,
sleepy outpost of the Italian peninsula, groves of ancient olive trees
and white-washed buildings dominate the landscape. The soul of its
people, meanwhile, is rooted in religion and family life. Little has
changed here for centuries, and, for the Pugliese, this is no bad
thing; tradition is everything.
It was 1989, and the young Roberta – then just six years old – was
already causing her parents some concern. You see, of more than
20 children living on the d’Elia family farm, Roberta was the most
rambunctious. Twice already she had been caught red-handed
emerging from the tomato vines of her neighbour, Signorina Teresa.
On the third such occasion, a red-faced Roberta (she had learned to
devour her plunder there and then, rather than be encumbered
during her retreat) was discovered in the vines not by Signorina
Teresa but by Maria-Assunta, her nonna (grandmother) and head of
the family. To the young Roberta, it did not seem of any
consequence that, by pilfering tomatoes from the poor Signorina
Teresa, she was defying her nonna’s Catholic teachings. All that
mattered in Roberta’s mind were the sweet, blushing tomatoes, and
how utterly wonderful they were.
For Maria-Assunta, though, a solution – or rather distraction – had
to be found to keep her mischievous granddaughter occupied. To
Roberta’s delight, this entailed food, but on her grandmother’s
condition that it had to be fairly procured. And so, Roberta and her
nonna began rising together before dawn, while the rest of the family
slept, to explore the farmstead for anything they could forage. In
those early days, this mainly meant rucola (rocket), which grows
spontaneously across the d’Elia family’s farmland. This herb,
sprouting from the soil, was easy for Roberta to gather; still small,
she could only look on as her nonna plucked olives, both green and
black, from the land’s centuries-old trees. By midday, when Puglia’s
searing heat set in, both grandmother and granddaughter would
return to the cool of the farmhouse with baskets brimming with plenty
of fresh rucola.
There, in the farmhouse kitchen, the real magic would begin.
Roberta, by her own admission an impatient child, would watch,
transfixed, as her nonna rolled out fresh pasta dough, shaping small
pieces into orecchiette, or ‘little ears’, an iconic shape of Puglia (and
one featured throughout this book). Maria-Assunta’s orecchiette
would be served for the entire family with the fresh rocket gathered
earlier that morning, and with potatoes proffered by the men of the
family, diced and boiled. This is where Roberta’s favourite dish has
its origins.
By 1991, after more than a year working by her nonna’s side,
Maria-Assunta anointed her granddaughter the family’s pasta
princess. To this day, Roberta credits the late Maria-Assunta with
establishing her Pugliesità (the quality of being, and feeling,
Pugliese) through this formative time spent preparing orecchiette
together in the farmhouse kitchen.
Alessandro
Around the same time, some 800 kilometres to the northwest, in the
Italian Riviera, our co-founder Alessandro was also learning the
virtues of pasta, albeit in a different milieu. Far from being confined
to the cucina by his nonna’s side, Alessandro – or Alex to those who
know him well – was more often found terrorising the streets of his
hometown, Genoa, with other teenage boys. He recalls being
notorious among them for falling off his Aprilia scooter; one in five
days are rainy there, and this climatic phenomenon, he insists, was
responsible for the falls that so amused his friends. In any case,
there was one weekly exception to this ritual, when Alex’s loyalties
lay elsewhere.
In Italy, schools open from Monday to Saturday, though they finish
early – around 1pm. In this way, the weekend, as Alex and his
friends knew it, began on Saturday afternoon. And as this weekly
apotheosis came about, Alex would disappear off on his moped into
the hills above the city. His friends, loitering in the carrugi (Genoa’s
historic narrow streets) below, could not comprehend this desertion.
Like clockwork, when Alex rejoined the group the following morning,
they would probe for a while, trying to tease out the reasons for his
flight. But he’d never tell, and soon they’d let it go, only for the same
thing to happen the next weekend.
The truth of Alex’s whereabouts was known to only one other: his
nonna, Maddalena. You see, while Alex had sat in lessons that
morning, Maddalena had been preparing all of her grandson’s
favourite things to eat. This was not a proposition Alex could turn
down, for Maddalena was a fantastic cook. Far less, though, could
he tell a bunch of adolescent boys that he preferred spending time
with Granny than them. And so, as his Aprilia lurched into his
nonna’s backstreet, he’d cast a glance over his shoulder before
parking up. His friends never tailed him though; all he ever saw was
the old town below and the Ligurian Sea in the distance. Secure in
the knowledge that his Saturday secret was safe, Alex would
announce ‘nonna, sono qui!’ (‘nonna, I’m here!’). As his nonna
opened her home to her grandson, the smell of focaccia, baking in
her oven, would fill the veranda. At this point, Alex’s nose could
discern which treats lay in store, and what level of rapture he might
attain that afternoon.
Indeed, while focaccia is mainly understood outside of the region
as being topped with olive oil, sea salt and perhaps rosemary, in
Liguria varieties abound. Alex’s favourite is focaccia di recco, made
by sandwiching fresh stracchino cheese from the region between
sheets of dough. If he was lucky, his nonna would have made this,
and often she did. Most exciting for Alex, though, was watching
Maddalena prepare her signature gnocchi al pesto. Just like
Roberta, several hundred kilometres to the south, Alex would gaze
on as his nonna rolled out the dough from flour, potato and eggs.
She’d craft each individual gnocco by hand, using a riga gnocchi, a
wooden board with ridges that give home-made gnocchi their rustic
appearance. Once dragged gently down the board, each dumpling
would be placed delicately on a floured surface before Maddalena
moved onto the next. It was poignant to watch the hands of this
wizened old woman move with such dexterity. The memory of these
Saturday afternoon displays of craftsmanship would later provide
Alex with the idea for Pasta Evangelists.
Finn
While all of this was happening, I (Finn) was little more than a big-
bellied toddler on the other side of Europe, unable to compete with
Roberta and Alex’s early escapism through pasta. I grew up in the
UK – in Newcastle upon Tyne, that proud, ferociously friendly bastion
of the northeast, and though my childhood most certainly wasn’t an
Italian one (I ate more stotties than pasta), it was replete with
delicious food.
My dad, Mark, had opened his first restaurant in the city a year
before I was born. When it was reviewed with some favour in 1994
by a critic from The Independent, then a national broadsheet, I was
barely a year old. The feature was quite an accolade for a
Novocastrian restaurateur who had grown up on a council estate in
the city’s West End, son of a Polish immigrant. A critic coming ‘all the
way’ from London had created quite the stir; the journalist even
dedicated a couple of sentences to my existence, giving my parents
a good telling off for letting their baby son play in the restaurant. My
presence, she said, would upset diners, who would find the setting
too familial. The reality, however, was that both of my parents
worked full time and there was nowhere else for me to go. Yet I was
glad to be there during my formative years, as my dad veered from
one restaurant to another – it meant that I got to eat well (and often).
Looking back, many moments stand out for their gastronomic
melodrama. The first involved me tasting a young pastry chef’s new
recipe in my dad’s second restaurant. It was a blueberry butter cake,
and it was so delicious that I requested three more to follow,
devouring each in quick succession. By the end of the evening, I had
eaten so much that I had to be carried, like some overfed pharoah in
a palanquin, all the way home (at least three miles if my dad is to be
believed). On another occasion – I think I was about nine – a gravy
that my mother served with Sunday lunch delighted me so much that
I literally wept. This has happened on a handful of occasions since,
most recently at a pizzeria in West London, Pizzicotto. There, while
battling a particularly grievous hangover, I was emotionally overcome
by a Neapolitan-style pizza topped with a whole, fresh burrata and
smatterings of basil pesto, served straight out of a 500°C wood-fired
oven.
My lasting love affair with pasta did start in Italy, however, and
merely became entrenched at Pasta Evangelists. I was visiting a
family friend, Joanne, who was married to Marco, an Italian inventor.
Marco had innovated a special stopper for vintage wine bottles and it
was a great success. The two had since bought a beautiful villa by a
small stream in the countryside near Venice. One evening, as the
sun began to give way to shadow, Joanne and Marco invited me to
their garden for dinner. As I sat at the table with the stream flowing
by, my reverie was broken only by a mosquito biting at my ankle.
The setting was otherwise so peaceful that I could have stayed there
forever. After the preamble of aperitivo (see here), Joanne brought
out the beef ragù she had been simmering for several hours
beforehand. It was quite unlike anything I had ever tasted before,
sumptuous and rich with fresh rosemary cut from the garden. Being
a Brit, I devoured inordinate quantities of that ragù, each time with
tangles of fresh tagliatelle from the local pastificio (little pasta
factories). To the table, Marco explained that, in Italy, it is common to
find family-owned pastifici that make and sell fresh pasta of
exceptional quality. That evening in the Veneto countryside, with
rosemary heady in the air, and red wine and ragù commingling in my
belly, I remember really waking up to just how magnificent pasta
could be.
Of course, like most Brits, I had grown up on dishes from the
pseudo-Italian repertoire, notably spaghetti Bolognese. I now know
that to Italians the notion of serving Bolognese sauce with spaghetti
is tantamount to sacrilege. This sauce, they insist, must be served
with tagliatelle. When Pasta Evangelists was born, and I began
working and eating with Italians every day, I found these
protestations difficult, even irritating. I thought them haughty, as
though my Italian colleagues and friends were looking down their
noses at us Brits. Who cares, I thought, if the sauce is served with
tagliatelle, spaghetti or some other shape entirely for that matter?
What I have come to learn in the past few years, though, is that
pasta means something to everyone, whether they are Italian,
British, Chinese, Kenyan or Ecuadorian. It is a truly democratic food,
one that transcends borders and is enjoyed in all corners of the
world. In Italy, though, the meaning of pasta runs that bit deeper. It is
an integral piece of this young nation’s fabric, a matter of national
pride and cohesion, uniting citizens from the sun-drenched island of
Sicily in the Mediterranean, all the way up to Alpine communities in
the far north. All Italians share a deep, personal stake in this
precious foodstuff, and as we will see in this book, it is a vessel for
the country’s poetry, stories and history. Most importantly, pasta
reminds Italians of precious years past, often when nonna was still
lovingly present. So, today, when an Italian tells me that a pasta
shape does, or perhaps does not, pair with some sauce, I listen. I
listen even if their reaction seems unduly strong. I imagine for a
second that, like Roberta, who spent years preparing orecchiette
under the tutelage of her late nonna Maria-Assunta, the person
protesting may have formed important memories of their own.
In these myriad ways, there is far more to pasta than meets the
eye. That’s why, as Pasta Evangelists, we do all we can to
evangelise this special food. By learning and telling the stories of
pasta, we gain a far better understanding of it; in turn, this makes for
a far more rewarding eating experience. By witnessing how real,
fresh pasta is made from scratch, we appreciate this simple food
more, understanding that its many permutations are the product of
centuries of craftsmanship, creativity and artisan tradition. At the
same time, we distinguish our pasta evangelism from puritanism –
we do not, for example, insist there is no role for dried pasta, or that
tradition must never be given a fresh outlook.
Instead, in this book, we’ve put together a selection of our
favourite pasta recipes. Recipes that we, the Pasta Evangelists
team, led by Alessandro, Finn and Roberta, enjoy in our homes in
London. There are few, if any, restaurant techniques. The ingredients
we use are, we hope, straightforward and easy to come by.
Sometimes we make our own fresh pasta, sometimes we don’t. On
occasion, we find great joy in allowing a ragù to simmer for several
hours. On others, we want something gratifyingly delicious to be
ready in minutes. Whatever pasta promise you are hoping to fulfil,
our objective is to help you make it happen in the most delicious of
ways.
HOW TO USE THIS BOOK
We understand that, with the increasingly busy lives we all lead,
there is less time for home cooking. At the same time, though, many
of us are trying to eat more food that is fresh, delicious and
unprocessed. This state of affairs – the desire to eat better food but
with less time to prepare it – has helped make our Pasta Evangelists’
subscription box so popular.
In this book, we have continued this ethos with a collection of
delicious pasta recipes that can be made in under 30 minutes. We
have also included a handful of special recipes, which take a little
longer, and are perfect for those rare, but wonderful, periods of
downtime, whether a long weekend or a break from work. There is
also an assortment of ‘make your own’ dishes, inspired by the
different regions of Italy. These provide ideas for how you can get
creative using leftover ingredients and other bits and pieces for a
very Italian ‘fridge raid’ experience.
Although we are principally a fresh pasta business, the recipes
here have been designed to be served with dried pasta (and the
weights we give are for dried pasta), as we appreciate this is widely
available and not everyone is interested in making their own fresh
pasta. Some people assume that dried pasta is somehow inferior to
fresh pasta: this is not the case – they are simply two different
products, and dried pasta will work well in all of the recipes featured
in this book.
We do urge you to have a go at making your own fresh pasta,
though. It’s far simpler than many assume, and takes very little time
and effort. To that end, we’ve also included a section showing you
how to make your own pasta dough (traditional egg dough, and even
vegan pasta dough) as well as the seven simple shapes used
throughout the book.
Happy cooking and buon appetito.
A note from Roberta

Ciao ragazzi. I’m Roberta, head pastaia and sfoglina at Pasta
Evangelists. These two Italian words mean more or less the same
thing: a person who makes pasta, like me. The only difference is that
a sfoglina is typically a lady, or donna, while a pastaia can just as
easily be a pastaio, which is a male pasta chef. We sfogline (as the
plural goes) have usually learned our craft directly from our nonne,
or grandmothers, when we were little girls. To this day, I use the knife
passed down to me by my own nonna, Maria-Assunta, who sadly is
no longer with us but will forever be in my heart (as well as in my
conscience in the kitchen and beyond!).
I come from Puglia, in the southeast of Italy, a very traditional
region where Catholicism remains influential. I grew up on a farm, on
the outskirts of a city called Foggia, with 20 or so other family
members. Our cuisine comes from a tradition called cucina povera,
meaning ‘the poor man’s kitchen’. We have always been an
impoverished region and rely on simple, inexpensive ingredients to
sustain us. My favourite pasta shape, orecchiette (meaning ‘little
ears’), for example, is a pasta bianca, made without any egg. This is
because, for centuries, eggs were an unaffordable luxury in my
region. They’re easier to come by today, of course, but the tradition
remains in our hearts.
In this section, I’ve included some of my top tips when preparing
pasta dishes – from which eggs and salt to use to how long to cook
pasta for. I hope you will find the information useful. If you haven’t
yet tried making your own fresh pasta to go with the sauces in this
book, I urge you to try it. It’s a lot easier than it sounds (I promise)
and is a fantastic upper body workout … or so I tell myself, anyway!
From my kitchen to yours, happy cooking and buon appetito.
COOKING PASTA
For the recipes in this book, I’ve given the weights for pasta secca,
or dried pasta. Because dried pasta expands during cooking, you
need less of it than you would fresh pasta. In Italy, where pasta is
normally served as a primo, or starter, the rule is 100g of dried or
165g of fresh pasta per person. In the UK, where I’ve learned pasta
is more widely enjoyed as a standalone dish, I allow for 125g of dried
or 200g of fresh pasta per person. Of course, you can always dial
down the quantity of pasta used if you’re serving it alongside other
dishes.
Here are five helpful tips for preparing pasta at home:
1. Use 1 litre of water per 100g of dried pasta. All too often I see
people trying to squeeze vast amounts of pasta into a tiny pan
with a scant amount of water. The pasta requires space to cook
and expand and is likely to stick if you don’t cook it in a big
enough pan with plenty of water.
2. It’s essential to properly salt pasta water. There’s an old saying
in Italy that the water should be as salty as our Mediterranean
Sea, and that’s true. I recommend 10g of coarse sea salt per
litre of water. This may seem like a lot, but only a tiny amount of
it is absorbed by the pasta during cooking. Undersalting the
pasta cooking water is one of the key reasons a pasta dish can
end up bland, so don’t skimp on salt.
3. Only add the pasta to the water once it has been salted and has
reached a ferocious boil.
4. Follow packet instructions for cooking times, but try a piece of
pasta a minute or two before the end of cooking to see if it’s
done. In Italy, we like our pasta ‘al dente’, meaning ‘to the teeth’
– this basically means that the pasta continues to have a bit of
bite and hasn’t become too soft.
5. If you have made your own fresh pasta, most shapes take just
1–2 minutes to cook. Fresh pasta can also be frozen for a
month or so and cooked straight from frozen, allowing an extra
minute or so of cooking time.
DRIED PASTA
Dried pasta is more common in the Italian south, where, for
generations, the eggs used to prepare fresh pasta were an
unaffordable luxury. Today, although eggs are more widely available
in the south, old habits die hard. And it isn’t the case that fresh is
better than dried, or vice versa; they’re simply different things.
If you have dried pasta to hand, there is undoubtedly a potential
meal to be had, no matter how sparse your cupboard may be. This
book contains 80 recipes that put dried pasta to use in different
ways, and a good many of them require just a handful of store
cupboard staples.
Pasta can be served as simply as in pasta aglio e olio, which is
pasta with garlic fried until fragrant in olive oil. Ultimately, the key is
to pick a high-quality pasta – my favourite brand is De Cecco, with
the beautiful blue and yellow packets that you can’t miss, but you
can also look for any pasta with the words ‘di Gragnano’ on the
packet. Gragnano pasta, named after a town on the Amalfi Coast, is
made with a special bronze dye that gives each piece a rustic finish.
This, in turn, allows sauces to properly cling to the pasta, resulting in
a more satisfying eating experience.
I should also say that a lot of people think all dried pasta is the
same, just branded and packaged differently, a bit like paracetamol
tablets. This isn’t the case, though: pasta is similar to bread, with
different production methods and finishes. As even the best types of
dried pasta are relatively affordable, I recommend going for the
highest quality varieties where you can.
FRESH PASTA
Fresh pasta is more widely enjoyed in the north of Italy, particularly
in cities like Bologna, where tagliatelle is freshly made and served
with rich, meat-based sauces known as ragùs. In Italy – again,
especially in the north – you are able to visit pastifici to buy fresh
pasta. These are little pasta factories, usually family-run, that
produce small batches of fresh pasta every day for their customers.
Unfortunately, no such equivalent exists here in the UK, which is why
we set up Pasta Evangelists: to bring the joy of really fresh, artisan
pasta to homes across the country.
People often tell us that they can buy fresh pasta at the
supermarket, which isn’t strictly true. Pick up a packet of ‘fresh’ pasta
in the supermarket the next time you’re there, and have a look at the
best before date: chances are, the pasta will have an expiry date one
or two months in the future. We always find this puzzling, because
no other fresh ingredient, whether herbs, salad leaves or tomatoes,
lasts anywhere near as long. The reason supermarket fresh pasta
does so is because it is highly pasteurised and often contains lots of
preservatives. We don’t recommend buying or eating it, not only for
these reasons but because it is incomparable to real fresh pasta. If
you can, have a go at making your own (see here); if not, quality
dried pasta is always the better option.
SALT
Always ensure a sauce contains enough salt before serving. Salt, or
sale as we call it in Italy, has a fantastic ability to bring out the flavour
of other ingredients when used correctly. As Italian food is generally
quite simple, with only a handful of ingredients, adding too little salt
to a recipe is one of the most frequent reasons a dish can be bland.
Salt is also useful in lots of other ways. For example, when I’m
preparing a fresh tomato sauce in a pan, I always add salt right after
the tomatoes, as it helps the tomatoes break down and create a
liquid base. If I’m too lazy to peel the tomatoes before adding them
to the pan (which is often the case), the salt is particularly important
to help the skins of the tomatoes split and disintegrate. In a similar
way, adding salt to the flesh of watery vegetables like courgettes,
aubergines or mushrooms can help draw out excess water prior to
cooking.
In the UK, my favourite brand of sea salt for seasoning dishes and
sauces is Maldon Sea Salt. You can use virtually any type of salt for
pasta water – the key is simply to ensure the water is salty enough.
EGGS
When I lived in Puglia, my favourite walk was to an old neighbour,
Signor Carmine, who had his own brood of hens. He insisted I go
into the coop myself to retrieve the eggs. I was terrified of his hens,
and so the memory is difficult to erase, but it was arguably worth it.
The freshness of the eggs and their beautiful orange yolks was
beyond comparison. Sadly, it’s often assumed eggs are much of a
muchness, but this isn’t so.
A carbonara sauce, for example, can live or die based on the
quality of the eggs used, because there are so few other ingredients
to hide behind. The key is to use the freshest eggs you can, ideally
only a day or two after they have been laid. I appreciate this is a
challenge in cities, but you’ll often be able to find fresh eggs at
farmers’ markets. The next best bet is to use the wonderful Burford
Brown variety from our friends at Clarence Court, which are now
widely stocked in supermarkets. Their golden yolks are completely
sublime, making them perfect for making pasta too, as the colour of
the yolk determines the colour of the pasta.
FLOUR
Like eggs and dried pasta, flour (farina in Italian), is often thought of
as a simple ingredient with little real difference between the
numerous varieties stocked on supermarket shelves. This is not the
case, and different types of flour serve different purposes.
In the Italian tradition, for example, doppio zero or 00 flour is
almost exclusively used for pasta-making; few nonne, for example,
would countenance the use of plain white flour, for it isn’t fine enough
in consistency. 00 flour, on the other hand, is the finest flour
produced, making it easy to roll out into the thinnest possible sheets
of dough without these breaking. This, in turn, enables pasta chefs to
produce, say, ravioli with beautifully light encasings, allowing the
filling to shine through without the stodginess of the pasta getting in
the way. Other egg pasta shapes, usually from the north, are also
made from 00 flour, including Bologna’s tagliatelle and Tuscany’s
hearty pappardelle. Nowadays, you can buy 00 flour in almost all of
the big supermarkets, so it’s easy to find and experiment with.
In the south of Italy, the most common flour in the pantry is likely
semola di grano duro. This should not be confused with semolina,
which is an entirely different ingredient. Semola is made from hard
wheat, and is a largely unrefined product with an intense yellow
colour from the coarse grains it’s made from. It’s used to prepare
pasta bianca, or white pasta, made without eggs. Shapes including
my favourite orecchiette, as well as malloreddus and cavatelli, are
made using this type of flour. In the UK, I buy my semola online; my
favourite brand is Divella.
CHEESE
Parmigiano-Reggiano, known as Parmesan in the UK, is one of the
protagonists of Italian cuisine. This is true all across the country,
despite this cheese originating in the town of Parma in Emilia-
Romagna. It has a fantastically tangy, salty flavour and takes on
more intensity as it ages. Most varieties you’ll find in the UK have
been aged for 12 to 24 months, but it’s not uncommon in Italy to find
varieties aged for 36 months or longer. I’m often asked at our pasta
masterclasses if Parmesan is suitable during pregnancy, and can
gladly confirm it is; because it contains very little water compared to
soft cheeses, it isn’t hospitable to bacteria. This also means it can be
kept for quite some time, so I always have a good amount of it
stashed away in the store cupboard (aside from flour it’s the only
ingredient I never run out of!).
Do experiment with other cheeses too, though. Italy is home to
countless wonderful varieties and each has its own character. After
Parmesan, my second favourite cheese is pecorino Romano, which
is a sheep’s cheese with a moderately strong, salty flavour.
Throughout this book, I’ve included the words ‘or vegetarian
alternative’ after several of the cheeses listed in the ingredients. This
is because many cheeses, such as Parmigiano-Reggiano, are
unsuitable for vegetarians owing to the use of rennet, made from
enzymes in cows’ stomachs. Fortunately, a wide variety of
vegetarian alternatives can be found – however, due to European
law, these alternatives can’t have the same name as the cheese
they’re emulating. So for a vegetarian substitute for Parmesan, for
example, you’ll have to look out for what is often branded ‘Vegetarian
Italian Hard Cheese’. For all intents and purposes, it tastes exactly
the same as Parmigiano-Reggiano and can be substituted with
confidence.
TOMATOES
When I was growing up in Puglia, the end of summer was marked by
what we call the passata di pomodori, or last of the tomatoes. This
was always in August. Under my nonna’s supervision, we would
harvest the sweetest of the tomatoes one last time, working as a
family out in the sun, peeling and boiling them in a ginormous pot
over firewood for hours at a time. The smell of the fresh tomatoes in
the August sun, with cicadas chirping in the background, is, for me,
the memory of la famiglia and carefree years gone by. Many Italians
from the south will be able to relate. After hours of work, we’d have
countless jars of tomato sauce that we could stow away and use
during the rest of the year when tomatoes were no longer in season.
Now, 20 years on and living in the UK, I have the supreme good
fortune to continue to be sent fresh passata from my family’s farm for
use during the cold winter months. Although modern farming
practices and globalisation mean tomatoes are available in British
supermarkets year round, I find them inedible outside of the summer
months. They seem to lack all flavour and resemble big red water
balloons. For this reason, I advise against using fresh tomatoes to
prepare recipes in this book outside of summer. The best brand of
tinned tomatoes to be used at other times during the year is, in my
opinion, Mutti. And during the promising summer months, take time
to select the best tomatoes you can: look for blushing red skins, vivid
green vines and a strong, sweet aroma.
OLIVE OIL
Few ingredients remind me of home quite so much as extra virgin
olive oil. The area I grew up in was surrounded by olive groves, so
many in fact that the street my father lives on is called Via Deglia
Ulivi (Olive Tree Street). At the end of October, my whole family
would rally round to harvest the olive crop by hand. This is a
physically demanding and onerous process but it yields by far the
best olives when compared with mechanical production, for
harvesting by hand allows you to discard inferior olives as you go
and avoid damaging the delicate fruit with electric machinery. We’d
collect the olives in a basket, or drop them into nets surrounding the
trees, and take them to the nearest frantaio, or olive oil press. I
remember the strong, unpleasant smell of the olives as a little girl,
but the cascade of their oil (which we call ‘liquid gold’) that poured
from the press was enchanting. Bruschetta doused in the freshly
pressed oil was a ritual after these trips and marked the end of the
harvest.
Fortunately, as olive oil is widely exported, fantastic varieties can
be found here in the UK. Unfortunately, there are just as many of
poor quality that should be avoided. As a general rule, try to avoid
bottles that feature the words ‘by mechanical means’ on the label. I
get all my olive oil from The Olive Oil Co., which has stalls at
Broadway and Borough Markets in London, but also a fantastic
online store for those living further afield (you may have to drop them
an email to order, but they’ll be remarkably helpful and thankful for
your custom). I like the ‘Tre Foglie’ variety, which is from my home
region and tastes fantastic.
ANCHOVIES
I know not everyone likes the idea of anchovies, but they are a true
staple in my store cupboard. They have a unique way of adding
deep savoury notes to all manner of dishes and can be ‘melted’
down in hot oil so you don’t even know they’re there. I use anchovies
in my Working Girl’s Spaghetti (see here) and Seafarer’s Spaghetti
(see here), and so always have some to hand. Choose a variety
preserved in extra virgin olive oil without any added aromatics. And
glass packaging is better than metal cases as you can see what you
are buying.
NUTS
Nuts are a key ingredient in the Mediterranean diet, and are
cultivated widely across Italy, with the best pistachios coming from
Bronte in Sicily, and walnuts from Sorrento. We use all manner of
nuts in my country, from almonds and pine nuts to walnuts and
hazelnuts. In this book, they’re the base of several different pestos. I
particularly like blanched (white, skinless) almonds in pesto for the
way they add creaminess. Because they don’t perish particularly
quickly, I recommend keeping a wide assortment of nuts in your
store cupboard. They’re incredibly good for you too.
LEGUMES
Pulses provide a fantastic source of protein and are a cheaper and
more environmentally friendly alternative to meat-based sauces. For
this reason, they’ve been a staple in my region’s cucina povera for
centuries (if not millennia) and a source of nutrition for peasants on
the Italian peninsula through the ages.
I particularly like lentils, which I use to create a vegetarian ragù
(see here). The best and most economical way to consume pulses is
to buy dried and cook them at home as required. This can take some
time, with soaking required the night before, so it’s often worth
having a couple of cans of precooked beans, chickpeas and lentils
on hand for emergencies, too.
GARLIC, ONION, CARROTS AND CELERY
This may seem like an odd grouping, but these ingredients combine
when gently fried in olive oil to form a soffritto, which is the base of
many sauces (particularly meat-based) in this book.
In some recipes, you’ll see only garlic. Most of the time, I simply
peel a garlic clove and fry it whole in olive oil, then discard it. This
infuses the oil with the fragrance and taste of garlic without leaving
large, acrid pieces behind. In recipes where the garlic is left in the
pan, or minced into the sauce, take real care not to burn it when
you’re frying it; the oil should never be too hot when you add the
garlic and, if it does burn, it’s best to start over rather than proceed
with a burnt base, as this will compromise the whole dish. The same
goes for onion, though this is less likely to burn unless subject to
truly ferocious heat.
HERBS
Fresh herbs are used widely in Italian cuisine, and I recommend
maintaining a little herb garden of your own for the sake of
convenience. I grow fresh basil, parsley and thyme on my kitchen
windowsill, with rosemary and sage growing just outside in the
garden. You’d be surprised how many herbs can prosper indoors
with relatively little attention; you can even buy them ready-potted
from the supermarket and leave them sitting on a saucer, pouring
water directly onto the saucer so the herbs can absorb it as they
need it. Be careful of them bolting, however – particularly basil. This
is when they begin to produce flowers at the end of the lifecycle and
their flavour diminishes considerably; it’s worth plucking off a leaf
and having a little nibble before committing a handful to a recipe. If
you are decidedly not green-fingered, however, all of the fresh herbs
used in this book can be found prepacked in supermarkets.
I don’t use dried herbs as often in my recipes, though they are
important in some places. Dried oregano, in particular, is a good
herb to keep stocked in the pantry.
ITALY: A Story of 20 Regions
, it’s that it’s a young country.

IF THERE’S ONE THING YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT ITALY
This might seem a strange thing to say. After all, the Italian capital,
Rome, was once the centre of an ancient empire stretching from
North Africa in the south all the way to the border between England
and Scotland in the north. Even today, echoes of the Roman Empire
continue to dominate the ‘Eternal City’, as Rome is nicknamed for its
virtually timeless history and amaranthine beauty. Its imposing
Colosseum, a symbol of Western civilisation, was built between 70
and 80 AD and towers over Rome’s streets, reminding us of the city’s
millennia of history. That the city was also named Caput Mundi
(capital of the world) in Latin, however also tells us of Rome’s
cosmopolitan nature.
The story of Rome, then, is really the story of the Western world. It
encompasses the Iberian peninsula (comprising Spain and Portugal,
and known in Latin as Hispania) as much as it does the Italian
peninsula or any of the Roman Empire’s countless provinces spread
across the Mediterranean and Western Asia for that matter. What,
then, is the story of Italy?
In the nineteenth century, a movement known as the Risorgimento

(‘resurgence’) saw multiple independent states spread across the
Italian peninsula come together to form the Kingdom of Italy, the
precursor to today’s Italian Republic. Until Rome was made the
capital of the new country in 1871, there was no Italy per se; only a
scattered selection of smaller countries that themselves drifted in and
out of history.
The Republic of Venice, for example, existed for over a millennium,

becoming a major maritime power in its own right before being
gobbled up by the Austrian Empire at the turn of the eighteenth
century. The Aperol spritz (see Aperitivo, page xx) is, to this day, seen
as much in the Austrian capital Vienna as it is in any city of modern
Italy. Rome, meanwhile, was the capital of an altogether different
country, the Papal States, ruled from the Eternal City by the Pope.
Separated from the Italian peninsula by the Mediterranean, the island

of Sicily had its own chequered history, even being ruled by Arabs as
the Islamic Emirate of Sicily for more than 200 years. Visitors to the
island’s capital, Palermo, are often struck by the elaborate arabesque
decorations on the walls of its structures, reminding us of the island’s
many different rulers from exotic places. By the time Arab rule in
Sicily ended in 1091, England, by way of comparison, had been a
unified country for more than a century. Italy as we know it was still
nowhere to be seen, nor would it be for another seven centuries.
In this respect, Italy is not merely a new nation, but an incredibly

diverse one. In England, a ‘north–south divide’ is often described,
documenting the different levels of productivity, cultures and dialects
found across the country. Geordies like Finn, for example, often feel
they come from an altogether different country to those growing up in,
say, the Home Counties surrounding London. After more than a
millennium of national unity, England remains diverse within its own
borders. The diversity of Italy, then, with less than two centuries of
national unity, cannot be emphasised enough.
Italy is not merely a new nation, but an incredibly diverse one
Within Italy’s modest territory of a little over 300,000 square

kilometres, you’ll find countless different languages and vernaculars,
striking geographical differences and, of course, distinct regional
gastronomies. Sardu, the language of more than a million people on
the Italian island of Sardinia, for example, is deemed to be as easy
for Italian speakers to understand as French! Meanwhile, many
Italians from the north’s Alpine regions will never have seen a
volcano, while for the three million people living in Naples, the
backdrop of nearby Mount Vesuvius is a daily vista. Unlike
Neapolitans, the people of Parma in Emilia-Romagna to the north
need not worry that their hometown might one day be buried under
volcanic ash as Pompeii once was. And with Parmigiano-Reggiano
and prosciutto di Parma both hailing from the town, they arguably
lead far better lives. Neapolitans would disagree, however, in spite of
the volcano’s threat, citing the beauty of the Bay of Naples or the
wonders of their eponymous pizza.
Sadly, Italians are also divided along economic lines. The eight
regions of the Italian north, blessed by geography with greater
proximity to other European countries, were the first to reap the
benefits of industrialisation, becoming wealthier than the south, as
they remain. The 12 southern regions, meanwhile, were left behind,
remaining largely agrarian communities. In 2018, the percentage of
the population of Sicily at risk of poverty stood at more than 40 per
cent. In the region of Friuli-Venezia Giulia, on the other side of the
country, the rate was five times lower.
But it isn’t all bad news for the south, which has become rich in
altogether different ways. In Italy, the word mezzogiorno, literally
‘midday’, also describes the southern regions. This is quite bizarre for
non-native speakers, who are puzzled to hear an entire half of the
Italian peninsula referred to by the name ‘midday’ in weather
forecasts. In true Italian style, there is a certain poetry to this: the
south is called mezzogiorno because, at midday in Italy, the bright
sun shines from the south. And while some southerners might feel
that sunshine is an unfitting, perhaps even insulting, allegory for their
downtrodden regions, we are deeply enchanted by them, and not
only because Roberta comes from the region of Puglia in the
southern half of the peninsula.
That’s why, throughout this book, you’ll see little nods to the Italian
south, whether in the frequent use of fresh red chillies, widely added
to recipes in the sun-drenched south and less so in the northern
regions, or our enthusiasm for southern pasta shapes like orecchiette
and malloreddus, both made without egg. These habits, part of a
wider culture in the south known as cucina povera, or ‘poor man’s
kitchen’, tell us real Italian stories. Eggs, for example, are left out of
most of the south’s fresh pasta because they were – and often
remain – an unaffordable luxury. This results in pasta bianca, or
‘white pasta’ (for it lacks the golden glow afforded by egg yolks),
being strongly associated with the region. In the affluent northeastern
region of Veneto, a local pasta shape known as bigoli is often made
not merely with hen’s eggs but expensive duck eggs, too. This would
seem unthinkably indulgent in southern regions like Campania or
Calabria, underlining the fact that differences in gastronomy are
rooted less in different tastes and more in economy and everyday
means.
Eggs, are left out of most of the south’s fresh pasta because they
were – and often remain – an unaffordable luxury.
Of course, our appreciation for the Italian south comes not at the
expense of the north. Regions from Piedmont and Liguria in the
northwest to Veneto and Emilia-Romagna in the northeast, have
bestowed edible treasures of their own on Italian cuisine, and many
feature in this book. It also goes without saying that the particular
treasures of the Tuscan kitchen – take pappardelle, cavolo nero and
wild boar ragù (see here) – make Italian cuisine an altogether richer
experience. It’s also worth remembering that many northern dishes
also have peasant origins, and should not be dismissed as decadent
by design.
In any case, our ambition in this book is to whisk you away, wherever
you might be, for a real taste of Italy in your own home. We want to
show you the sheer variety that can be found in the fabric of modern
Italy. With 20 regions, each with its own distinct cuisine and many
their own language entirely, there is so much to see, touch, smell,
hear and taste. This book will only be able to scratch the surface of
this special place, but we hope you’ll find the stories of the country we
both know and love to be interesting and informative and the recipes
delicious.
There’s some tacit understanding that recipes that are quick to
prepare are somehow inferior; that they inevitably give less joy or are
less impressive than food laboured over for many hours. If you
haven’t toiled over a hot stove for the whole day before your guests
arrive, you question whether you have made enough effort. This
outlook is particularly grounded in our fast-food world, where rapidly
prepared food tends to be synonymous with processed ingredients
and cheat techniques. Fortunately, as generations of Italians have
understood, it doesn’t need to be this way.
All the recipes in this section can be made within 10 minutes,
though not because of any wizardry or kitchen chicanery. We see no
way, for example, that a tough cut of beef shin might be slow-cooked
to perfection in a matter of minutes, and so we don’t recommend
‘cheat’ techniques as others may do. Instead, the ingredients used in
these recipes simply don’t require much, if any, cooking.
When you have high-quality, fresh produce to hand, it often pays
to keep things simple and let the natural flavours and textures of the
ingredients shine. It is in quick dishes of this sort that we can take
the greatest advantage of bright flavours that haven’t been dulled by
the cooking process. Lemon zest, pancetta, fresh herbs and delicate
cheeses all spring to mind here.
Take the Broad Bean Pesto (see here), which is a staple in many
kitchens of the Italian Riviera. This sauce requires only a handful of
easily sourced ingredients, straight from the pantry and fridge.
Pounded together in a matter of moments, the result is a fresh,
vibrant sauce with flavours unadulterated by cooking. Better still, as
with many recipes in this section, it can be prepared while the pasta
is boiling.
Spaghetti with the carbonara of
dreams
SPAGHETTI ALLA CARBONARA

serves 4
When we photographed this dish, our photographer Tim exclaimed

that he was shooting the ‘Carbonara of Dreams’. If you ask Tim why
he christened it so, we hope he’d say it’s because this carbonara has
a way of whisking you away from your worldly troubles, if only for a
moment, which we’ve invariably found is as long as a bowl of this
pasta lasts.
For the people of Lazio, and especially the capital Rome, two rules
should be observed when preparing this dish. First, the addition of
cream is aberrant. Second, the pork component should be guanciale,
a fatty, cured cut from a pig’s cheek. That is to say, in the Roman
view, lardons or smoked bacon are not to be substituted. In respect of
tradition, we therefore give you Roberta’s carbonara recipe as you’d
find it in the Italian capital.
500g spaghetti
150g guanciale (if you really can’t find it, opt for cubed pancetta)
5 medium egg yolks
50g pecorino Romano, grated, plus extra to serve
Salt and black pepper, to taste
1. Bring a pot of generously salted water to the boil. Cook the pasta
until al dente, following the packet instructions. While the pasta
cooks, prepare the sauce.
2. Remove and discard the tough rind of the guanciale, then cut the
meat into cubes. Place the cubes in a cold, dry frying pan over a
low heat and cook for 5–6 minutes until crisp and browned, then
remove from the heat.
3. While the guanciale cooks, place the egg yolks in a bowl
(Roberta recommends saving the egg whites for an omelette).
Add the pecorino, salt and pepper, and beat with a fork until
combined.
4. Once the pasta is al dente, reserve a cup of the starchy pasta
cooking water, then drain the pasta and add it to the pan
containing the guanciale. Return the pan to a low heat and sauté
the pasta for a few minutes, adding a splash of the cooking
water.
5. Remove the pan from the heat and add the egg yolk mixture.
Toss the pasta in the sauce continuously, adding more cooking
water if necessary. You should be left with a glossy sauce that
completely coats the spaghetti.
6. Plate and serve immediately with freshly grated pecorino
Romano and black pepper to taste.
Orecchiette with fresh tomato &
stracciatella
ORECCHIETTE AL POMODORO FRESCO E

STRACCIATELLA
serves 4
Roberta reckons this might be her favourite pasta dish of all. For her,
it symbolises everything beautiful about her home region of Puglia.
There, tomatoes grow locally and are fantastically sweet and fragrant.
Orecchiette, her beloved pasta shape, are made by hand by nonne
throughout the region, and remain an enduring symbol of Pugliese
pride. Stracciatella, a fresh cheese from her hometown of Foggia, is
made with the milk of Italian buffaloes, which graze throughout the
region, and can be bought from local cheesemakers.
The key here, as is often the case in the Italian kitchen, is selecting
ingredients of the highest possible quality. Stracciatella can be a little
difficult to come by, but it is available at most Italian delis. If you can’t
find it, you may be able to find burrata, whose oozing core is
composed of stracciatella. Failing that, quality mozzarella di bufala
will work well too.
500g orecchiette
5 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, plus extra to serve
1 garlic clove, peeled and lightly crushed
15–20g fresh basil leaves, shredded, plus extra to serve
400g fresh tomatoes, washed and diced
2 tsp sea salt flakes
120g fresh stracciatella
2. Heat the oil in a pan over a medium heat. Add the garlic and
sauté for 2 minutes until fragrant. When the garlic turns golden
brown, remove from the pan and discard.
3. Add the basil leaves to the pan. Take care here, as the oil may
spit. Allow the basil to infuse in the oil for 30 seconds, then add
the tomatoes and sea salt flakes. Stir until well combined, then
cover and cook for 5–6 minutes until the sauce is thick and
glossy.
4. Once the pasta is al dente, drain the pasta and add it to the pan
containing the tomato sauce, tossing it in the sauce until coated.
5. Plate and serve immediately, topped with the stracciatella
cheese, as well as extra basil and a drizzle of extra virgin olive
oil.
Spaghetti from the Amalfi Coast
SPAGHETTI AL LIMONE
serves 4
Sixty kilometres or so south of Naples lies the Costiera Amalfitana, or

Amalfi Coast. Its Italian name is a portmanteau of Amalfi and
Positano, two towns set on cliffs along the seafront. In this special
place, pastel structures line the streets and local fishermen can be
seen going about their business. Most of all, though, Amalfi is known
for its eponymous lemons, which grow abundantly along the sun-
kissed coastline. Amalfi lemons are distinguished by their unusually
large size and sweet, perfumed flavour, and whenever we visit, we
love to eat pasta al limone: a simple, gorgeously fragrant sauce made
with these special lemons. This is our version, best enjoyed with a
glass of chilled white wine in the late afternoon sun (like just about all
things in life).
500g spaghetti
2 tbsp olive oil
20g unsalted butter
400ml single cream
Juice and grated zest of 2 unwaxed lemons
Parmesan, or vegetarian alternative, to serve
2. Place the oil and butter in a large pan over a medium heat. When
the butter has melted, add the garlic and fry gently for around 2
minutes until golden. Once the oil mixture is fragrant, take the
pan off the heat and discard the garlic clove. Slowly add the
cream and stir to combine. Return the pan to a low heat and
continue to stir gently until the sauce begins to bubble.
3. Remove from the heat again, then add the lemon juice and zest,
salt and pepper.
containing the sauce. Stir over a low heat to combine, adding a
splash of the cooking water if necessary, to obtain a glossy
sauce which completely coats the pasta.
5. Plate and serve immediately with freshly grated Parmesan to
taste.
Gnocchi with truffle butter
GNOCCHI AL TARTUFO
serves 4
By most accounts, Italy is the world’s second largest producer of

truffles after China. This doesn’t surprise us, because the Italian
appetite for truffles – tartufi – is substantial. This is particularly so in
the northern and central regions where restaurants often serve
specialities such as truffle and potato ravioli. In fact, truffles have a
near mythical status in some parts of the country, and it is commonly
said that they are snuffled out by pigs. Nowadays, this work is almost
exclusively undertaken by dogs since pigs refuse to give up the
truffles they unearth and devour them instead. Quite understandable,
we think.
500g gnocchi
120g unsalted butter
60g black or white truffle, shaved or finely grated (or a mixture of the two); set aside some
shavings to serve
Salt, to taste
1. Cook the gnocchi, following the packet instructions. While the

gnocchi cook, prepare the sauce.
2. Melt the butter in a large frying pan. Add the truffle and stir to
combine, then add salt to taste. Take the pan off the heat and let
the truffle infuse in the butter.
3. Add the cooked gnocchi to the truffle butter, tossing the mixture
until the dumplings are completely coated.
4. Plate and serve immediately, topped with the extra truffle
shavings and freshly grated Parmesan to taste.
‘Greek’ Rigatoni
RIGATONI ALLA GRICIA

serves 4
This dish is shrouded in mystery. Essentially a carbonara without the

addition of egg, Pasta alla Gricia literally means ‘pasta in the manner
of the Greeks’. This is odd, given its constituent elements are all
decidedly Italian (particularly guanciale, a cured cut from a pig’s
cheek). Pasta alla Gricia is also a bona fide Roman dish: veritably
ancient, the dish has been prepared on the Italian peninsula since at
least 400 AD. While many theories have been proffered to explain
how this dish ended up invoking the Greeks, we think it likely that the
confusion stems from a simple spelling mistake: the town of
Grisciano, just 15 kilometres from Amatrice, is probably the true
home of the dish.
500g rigatoni
70g pecorino Romano, grated, plus extra to serve
meat into cubes. Place the cubes in a dry frying pan over a
medium-high heat, moving the meat constantly to ensure it
doesn’t burn. Allow the guanciale to brown in the rendered fat for
6–7 minutes.
cooking water, then drain the pasta and add it to the pan with the
guanciale. Reduce the heat to low and sauté the pasta for a few
minutes, adding a splash of cooking water. Toss until the pasta is
completely coated in the glossy sauce.
4. Add the pecorino Romano and combine until the cheese is
incorporated.
Romano to taste.
Finn’s green yoghurt pasta
serves 2
Finn loves Middle Eastern ingredients and was enraptured to find a

recipe for pasta with yoghurt in Yotam Ottolenghi’s classic cookbook
Jerusalem. He knew, though, that Roberta was unlikely to allow the
idea of feta or Aleppo chilli with pasta, but imagined that, with some
tweaks, she might just tolerate the yoghurt element. As it happened,
he needn’t have worried: she loves it.
Finn substituted ricotta salata for the feta, which is eminently Italian
and has a similar, if slightly less prominent, degree of saltiness. The
Aleppo pepper vanished too, replaced with peperoncino (chilli) flakes.
Finn also likes lots of spinach here, not because it’s Italian per se, but
rather because it gives the sauce a wonderful green colour. The
spinach also seems to have an absolving property, making you feel
better in body and soul if you’ve had a heavy night the day before
devouring this. And by his own admission, Finn often has.
500g orecchiette
75g spinach, washed
1 garlic clove, peeled
125g full-fat Greek yoghurt
½ tsp sea salt flakes
30g fresh basil leaves
100g peas, fresh or frozen and defrosted
½ tsp dried red chilli flakes
Juice of 1 lemon
100g ricotta salata, crumbled
2. Blitz the spinach, garlic, yoghurt, olive oil and sea salt flakes in a
blender with half the fresh basil leaves, half the peas and half the
dried red chilli flakes. Once blitzed, stir through the lemon juice
and set aside.
3. A minute before the pasta is done, add the remaining peas to the
boiling water and finish cooking. Drain the pasta and peas and
return to the pan.
4. Pour the yoghurt sauce over the drained pasta and peas and stir
to combine.
5. Roughly tear the remaining basil leaves and stir through the
finished pasta along with the crumbled ricotta salata and the
remaining red chilli flakes.
6. Plate and serve immediately, drizzled with extra virgin olive oil to
complete the dish.
Rigatoni with ricotta
RIGATONI ALLA RICOTTA
serves 4
This recipe is a work of mere moments. With just a few ingredients, it

also precludes any unwelcome spice searches or visits to specialist
shops. Instead, the key ingredient, as the name suggests, is simply –
but no less beautifully – ricotta, one of Italy’s best-loved cheeses.
There are records of this special cheese being produced on the
Italian peninsula as far back as the Bronze Age, meaning the tribes of
early Italy have been gorging themselves on ricotta with great relish
since before the days of Ancient Rome. We like to follow their
example, albeit with a generous amount of seasoning and a good
grating of Parmesan to offset the subtle sweetness of the ricotta.
500g rigatoni
400g ricotta
1–2 sprigs of fresh thyme, leaves removed from the stem
Parmesan, or vegetarian alternative, grated, plus extra to serve
2. In a large bowl, combine the ricotta with some fresh thyme
leaves, salt, pepper and a little grated Parmesan, if desired.
3. Once the pasta is al dente, drain the pasta and add it to the
sauce. Plate and serve immediately with freshly grated
Parmesan to taste.
Wanderer’s spaghetti
SPAGHETTI ALLA CARRETTIERA
serves 4
The name of this dish comes courtesy of Sicilian history. A carrettiere,

literally, is a ‘cart driver’, and so this is spaghetti ‘in the style of a cart
driver’. This doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, so we prefer to call it
‘wanderer’s spaghetti’, as it was created by traders who wandered
the countryside of Sicily, stopping in towns to sell basic goods.
This sort of itinerant lifestyle did not lend itself to long or lavish food
preparation; instead, the cart drivers relied on the same ingredients
they peddled to feed themselves. Pasta alla carrettiera is therefore a
quintessential recipe of cucina povera, or the poor man’s kitchen,
which denotes a way of cooking in southern Italy that uses affordable,
unpretentious ingredients while delivering great flavour.
500g spaghetti
4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
½ fresh red chilli, finely diced (optional)
70g sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
25g capers, washed and roughly chopped
15–20g fresh parsley, finely chopped
80g toasted breadcrumbs, to serve
2. Place the olive oil, garlic, chilli (if using) and tomatoes in a large
frying pan over a medium heat. Fry for a couple of minutes, then
add the capers. Remove and discard the garlic clove.
sauce. Toss to combine, adding a splash of the cooking water.
Continue mixing until the sauce coats the pasta, then add the
parsley and stir to combine.
4. Plate and serve immediately, topped with the toasted
breadcrumbs.
Tagliatelle with prawns & lemon
TAGLIATELLE CON GAMBERONI E LIMONE

serves 4
If you’ve ever had the fortune of driving along the coastline of

southern Italy, you might be familiar with the small, family-run
restaurants that appear regularly on the horizon. As you get closer,
you can’t help but marvel at how pretty their pale blue facades look
against the sun: a sort of seaside fairytale. But it’s the waft of fresh
seafood coming from the kitchens that is most captivating.
Gamberoni, or prawns, are a staple on the menus here. Sourced by
local fishermen in the morning and prepared the same day for lunch,
often simply with garlic and lemon, they are as fresh as can be.
This recipe is inspired by our own pit stops along the Italian
coastline, when, after a long drive, the promise of fresh seafood,
served unpretentiously but beautifully, is too much to resist.
500g tagliatelle
1 garlic clove, minced
200g raw tiger prawns, peeled and deveined
25g capers, rinsed
Grated zest of ½ unwaxed lemon
2. In a frying pan, fry the garlic in the olive oil for around 1 minute,
being careful not to burn it. Once fragrant, add the prawns,
capers, salt and pepper and fry gently for 5 minutes.
3. Once the pasta is al dente, drain the pasta and add it to the pan
with the sauce. Toss together and leave to cook for a minute
longer. Remove from the heat and stir through the lemon zest.
Plate and serve immediately.
Gnocchi with sage butter sauce
GNOCCHI AL BURRO E SALVIA
serves 4
When we visit the northern reaches of Italy, especially the

picturesque Alpine villages of Lombardy, nothing brings us greater
rapture than freshly made gnocchi with sage butter. As its name
suggests, burro e salvia (‘butter and sage’) is the product of just two
simple ingredients: butter and fresh sage leaves, fried together in a
pan.
If you aren’t a gnocchi enthusiast, you can pair this sauce with just
about any pasta shape for a simple meal. It’s also a ubiquitous
pairing for filled pasta: tortellini, ravioli and other filled shapes are
often anointed with burro e salvia before being served. You could also
substitute other herbs to create different takes on this sauce – fresh
rosemary or thyme, for example, are great alternatives.
500g gnocchi
15 fresh sage leaves, finely sliced

2. Melt the butter in a large frying pan and add the sage leaves. Fry
for 3–4 minutes until the sage is crisp and the butter takes on a
hazelnut-brown colour. Add salt and pepper to taste.
3. Add the cooked gnocchi to the sage butter, tossing the mixture
until the dumplings are completely coated.
taste.
THE POETRY OF PASTA
, where the royal court still held sway, there

LONG AGO IN THE KINGDOM OF ITALY
lived a princess named Mafalda. A gentle girl with long, brown
ringlets and a love of music, Mafalda was born in 1902 to the House
of Savoy. Her upbringing, in a villa on the outskirts of Rome, was
unusually modest for a princess: her mother, Queen Elena, wished
for her daughter to lead a simple life, but it was also full of love. It is
said that her doting mother, concerned by her daughter’s delicate
constitution, weighed her daily to ensure she gained weight. Mafalda,
concerned in equal measure for the worrying Queen, concealed an
ever-increasing number of coins in her clothing to allay her mother’s
fears. Until one day a handful of coins fell out and Queen Elena’s
worrying resumed. However, nothing in Princess Mafalda’s childhood
portended the tragedy of her later life.
Queen Elena would outlive Mafalda by nearly a decade, but not

because of the girl’s frailty. On the contrary, Mafalda is remembered
by the Italian people as a lioness, having spoken out in defence of the
Jews and fallen foul of Adolf Hitler. In the Second World War,
Princess Mafalda of Savoy was arrested by the Gestapo and
transported to Buchenwald concentration camp, where she died in
1944.
It took over 50 years for the Italian government to honour Mafalda,

finally releasing a commemorative postage stamp in 1995. The Italian
people, meanwhile, had taken matters into their own hands, creating
for their lioness the greatest possible honour: a pasta shape in her
memory. Long, wavy and with ribbon-shaped edges, mafaldine (or
reginette, ‘little queens’) evoke Mafalda’s ringlets. In this way, she
lives on until such time as Italians cease to enjoy pasta.
In the realm of pasta poetry, though, Mafalda’s elegy is unique. Pasta

shapes (and especially their names) more often conjure up delicious
in-jokes. Strozzapreti (‘priest-chokers’) is a hand-rolled shape popular
in Emilia-Romagna, and nonne across Italy speculate on the origins
of the shape’s name. Some say it was a commentary on fat cat
priests, choking as they gorged themselves on pasta. Others insist
dutiful wives made this wholly satisfying pasta for the local priest in
lieu of rent, while their husbands looked on, secretly willing the priest
to choke on his meal. Strangulaprievete (‘priest strangler’), a type of
gnocchi found to the south, in Campania, indicates that this sentiment
was not just the preserve of jealous husbands in Emilia-Romagna.
Whatever the shape, one thing is clear to us: as far as pasta names
go, Italians have no appetite for the mundane. Even the more literal
varieties have a poetic ring. Campanelle are ‘little bells’, tubes of
pasta flaring out at one end like church bells. Farfalle, beloved by
children throughout Italy, are ‘butterflies’, crimped in the middle to
give each farfalla two delicate wings. Linguine are ‘little tongues’,
while Roberta’s beloved orecchiette are ‘little ears’. Even the
everyday fusilli are said to be derived from fusile, or ‘rifles’; in your
mind’s eye, you can almost see each tight corkscrew shooting forth
from the barrel.
Linguine are ‘little tongues’, while Roberta’s beloved orecchiette are

‘little ears’
Each year, the town of Castelfranco Emilia, in the province of

Modena, celebrates its role in pasta folklore, for legend has it that the
tortellini shape was conceived here. The story goes that Venus,
Goddess of love, once spent the night there to rest her weary soul.
The innkeeper, spying through a keyhole, was overcome, rushing to
his kitchen to prepare fresh pasta inspired by ‘the sight of the divine
navel’. Tortellini, the creation of the voyeur innkeeper, have stood the
test of time, and are sometimes referred to as ombelico, or ‘belly
button’. Poetry in form and word.
Through this propensity to create poetry from pasta, we are reminded

of Italians’ uniquely playful spirit. Most of all, we are reminded of the
very real significance of pasta in their daily lives. Pasta is a vessel
through which Italians crack jokes, tell stories, document their history
and invoke legend. Whether eulogising the tragic Princess Mafalda or
paying homage to the working girls of Naples (pasta alla puttanesca),
we relish Italy’s anthology of pasta poetry. With most sources
recognising around 350 pasta shapes, and many more undiscovered
in small towns, villages and kitchens across Italy, our quest to
uncover new pasta poetry is likely to go on for some time.
Malloreddus with broad bean pesto
MALLOREDDUS AL PESTO DI FAVE
serves 4
Broad beans, also known as fava beans, are surely one of nature’s
greatest gifts. They are oversized when compared with the garden
pea, and, in our opinion, infinitely more interesting. When broad
beans come into season in spring, few things bring us greater joy
than popping them out of their pretty pods.
In the region of Liguria, where pesto was born, they also play a
supporting role to the better-known pesto alla genovese. Cherished
by the townspeople of Sestri Levante, some fifty kilometres along the
Italian Riviera from the regional capital of Genoa, fava beans are the
key ingredient of their very own pesto. Ostensibly, the people of
Sestri Levante have innovated a different, yet equally green, pesto to
spite their neighbours in the capital. Truth be told, though, it’s just as
good, albeit in an altogether different way. To us, it’s clear the people
of Sestri Levante wanted not to outdo their fellow Ligurians, but
provide a different perspective on pesto. It’s one we are happy to
embrace.
35g pine nuts

800g broad beans, parboiled for 2–3 minutes
100ml extra virgin olive oil
100g pecorino Romano, or vegetarian alternative, grated, plus extra to serve
10 fresh mint leaves, finely chopped
750g malloreddus
1. Gently toast the pine nuts in a dry frying pan over a medium-high
heat until fragrant, around 2–3 minutes. Keep the kernels moving
to prevent them burning.
2. Place the broad beans in a blender with the olive oil, pecorino
Romano, toasted pine nuts, mint and garlic and blend until the
mixture is creamy.
until al dente, following the packet instructions.
4. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and return to the pot, then add
the pesto and toss to combine.
Romano.
Roman cheese & pepper spaghetti
SPAGHETTI CACIO E PEPE
serves 4
Cacio e pepe, literally ‘cheese and pepper’, is perhaps the most

recognisable dish of modern Roman cuisine. Take an evening stroll
through the back streets of the Eternal City and watch as Romans,
dining at their favourite trattorie, skilfully twist tangles of luminous
cheesy spaghetti around their forks.
This is one of those sauces that feels both basic and decadent, the
climax of just three ingredients: freshly ground black pepper, an
almost unseemly volume of pecorino Romano, and, of course, pasta.
The trick we employ here – using a little of the starchy water the
pasta cooks in to thicken the sauce – is common in Italy. At first, it
might feel odd to add water to thicken a sauce, but as the water
evaporates, the remaining starches help the underlying ingredients to
adhere (in this case, the cacio with the pepe). Pasta science,
courtesy of the Roman kitchen!
500g spaghetti
1–2 tsp black peppercorns
280g pecorino Romano, or vegetarian alternative, grated
2. With a pestle and mortar, lightly crush the black peppercorns.
3. In a bowl, mix the pecorino Romano with a splash of the starchy
pasta cooking water until creamy.
4. Add the peppercorns to a pan over a low heat and gently toast
for a minute. Then, add a ladleful of the starchy pasta cooking
water.
5. Once the pasta is al dente, reserve another cup of the cooking
water, then drain the pasta and add it to the pan containing the
pepper. Turn off the heat, add the cheese mixture and toss until
well combined. If necessary, add more cooking water until you
obtain a creamy consistency.
6. Plate and serve immediately.
Orecchiette with Romanesco
ORECCHIETTE CON ROMANESCO
serves 4
The Romanesco broccoli is one of nature’s most beautiful gifts. As

though its pale, pastel-like green (‘chartreuse’, officially) wasn’t
interesting enough, scientists have identified greater virtue still in its
‘fractal-esque’ nature. The heads that make up the Romanesco
broccoli are near identical; all that differs is their size. We just think
they look a bit like alien Christmas trees.
In any case, this special variety has been harvested on the Italian
peninsula since the seventeenth century and is now eaten across
Italy. More akin in flavour to cauliflower than broccoli, Romanesco can
be distinguished by its gentle, nutty character. We love it served
simply, when its unique flavour and interesting shape take centre
stage, as in this recipe.
600g Romanesco broccoli, broken down into florets

500g orecchiette
1 whole fresh red chilli, cut in half
2 tbsp grated pecorino Romano, or vegetarian alternative, to serve
Handful of fresh parsley, finely chopped, to serve (optional)
1. Bring a pot of generously salted water to the boil. Cook the
Romanesco florets for 5 minutes, then strain using a slotted
spoon and set aside, keeping the water boiling to cook the pasta.
2. Cook the pasta until al dente, following the packet instructions.
While the pasta cooks, finish preparing the Romanesco.
3. Fry the garlic and chilli halves in the olive oil for a couple of
minutes before adding the Romanesco florets and frying for a
further minute or so. Remove and discard the garlic and chilli.
4. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and add to the pan with the
sauce, tossing to combine.
5. Serve immediately, topped with the freshly grated pecorino
Romano and parsley, if using.
Gnocchi with Parmesan cream
GNOCCHI CON CREMA AL PARMIGIANO
serves 4
A while ago we visited Parma, in the region of Emilia-Romagna,

famous for its eponymous prosciutto di Parma. Of course, as the
name hints, Parma is also renowned for its production of Parmigiano-
Reggiano cheese. While dining at Ristorante Cocchi, the proprietor
explained to us that this special and internationally exported
formaggio is protected under European law, and so, legally, can only
be produced in Parma, as well as a handful of adjacent provinces.
This is why you might encounter the far less glamorous-sounding but
similar-tasting ‘Italian hard cheese’ and wonder what the difference is
– usually, only where it has been produced!
This sauce is our celebration of the ‘King of Cheeses’. We
recommend experimenting with cheeses of different ages to find the
variety that delights you the most. Our favourite is Vacche Rosse,
produced from the milk of rare breed red cows from the region and
aged for around 24 months.
500g gnocchi
250ml whole milk
35g unsalted butter
30g plain white flour
230g Parmesan, or vegetarian alternative, grated, plus extra to serve
Salt, to taste
2. In a saucepan, gently heat the milk.
3. Meanwhile, in a second saucepan, melt the butter. When the
butter has completely melted, add the flour and whisk vigorously.
4. Add the hot milk, a little at a time, whisking continuously. Once all
the milk has been added, leave the sauce to thicken slightly,
whisking all the time. You can choose the consistency you prefer,
but Roberta recommends keeping the sauce a little runny.
5. When the sauce has reached the desired consistency, add the
grated Parmesan and a pinch of salt and mix well.
6. Add the cooked gnocchi to the sauce, tossing the mixture until
the dumplings are completely coated.
7. Plate and serve immediately, topped with freshly grated
Parmesan to taste.
Spaghetti with courgette carbonara
SPAGHETTI ALLA CARBONARA DI ZUCCHINE
serves 4
As the classic carbonara recipe (see here) calls for guanciale (a

cured cut from a pig’s cheek), it is unsuitable for vegetarians. For
those who have taken up vegetarianism later in life – and Finn did for
several years – the passing of carbonara from one’s life can cause
untold gastronomic grief. Fortunately, this green version promises to
restore the joy of even the most maudlin new vegetarian.
It must be said, too, that Finn was strongly opposed to Roberta’s
idea of pasta alla carbonara made with courgettes. Although he loves
the mild, fresh flavour of courgettes, their very mildness seemed to
make them a futile substitute for guanciale. Today, though, he is a
convert. As courgettes have a fantastic ability to absorb salt, they
can, if fried punctiliously and not to the point of mushiness, emulate
salty morsels of guanciale while bringing a light freshness in their own
right.
500g spaghetti
2 large courgettes (around 300g), roughly diced
5 medium egg yolks
15g fresh parsley, finely chopped
2. Heat the oil in a pan over a medium heat. Add the garlic and
sauté for 2 minutes until fragrant, then remove from the pan and
discard. Add the courgettes to the pan, season with salt and
pepper and cook for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.
3. Meanwhile, place the egg yolks in a bowl and whisk gently. Add
the pecorino Romano and a dash of salt and pepper and
continue whisking until smooth.
courgettes. Stir to combine and cook for 1 minute over a high
heat. Add the parsley then turn off the heat.
5. Slowly add the egg mixture, stirring quickly with a wooden spoon
to distribute throughout the pasta. If the mixture becomes dry,
add a splash of the cooking water and toss vigorously to
combine.
6. Plate and serve immediately, topped with freshly ground black
pepper to taste.
Orecchiette pasta salad with tomato &
ricotta
ORECCHIETTE ALLA CRUDAIOLA
serves 4
In Puglia, it’s common for temperatures to exceed 40°C in the

summer. On these days, Roberta and the other women living on the
d’Elia farm are loath to labour in the kitchen for long, yet the family’s
inclination to eat pasta is no less pronounced because of the heat.
Instead, pasta simply adapts. This recipe takes minutes to prepare,
minimising time spent in hot kitchens where air conditioning is more
the exception than the rule. Pasta alla crudaiola is also refreshing,
served cold to provide lunchtime respite from the unrelenting heat.
500g orecchiette
350g fresh cherry tomatoes, chopped
10g fresh basil leaves, finely chopped, plus extra to serve
6–7 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, plus extra to serve
½ garlic clove, peeled and minced
30g ricotta salata, coarsely grated, plus extra to serve
Salt, to taste
2. Put the tomatoes, basil, olive oil and garlic in a bowl and stir to
combine. Add the ricotta salata and stir gently, then add salt to
taste.
3. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and rinse under the cold tap
water to cool the pasta. Toss the pasta with the tomato mixture.
4. Serve with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil on top, along with a
few leaves of fresh basil and some freshly grated ricotta salata.
Four cheese gnocchi
GNOCCHI AL QUATTRO FORMAGGI

serves 4
As the name suggests, this is one for the cheese lovers. If you aren’t
one of them, look away now. Shamelessly indulgent, this recipe
brings together four fantastic cheeses of Italy, namely mozzarella di
bufala, fontina, Parmigiano-Reggiano and Gorgonzola.
If the mention of Gorgonzola, a blue cheese, does not inspire
enthusiasm on your part, do not worry. When combined with its fellow
formaggi, the pungency of the Gorgonzola is severely curtailed,
leaving behind a wonderful saltiness. This is real cucina di casa: food
perfect for a cold winter’s night. A good glass of red makes it even
more comforting.
100g Gorgonzola
100g mozzarella
100g fontina or Gruyère
100g Parmesan
125ml double cream
500g gnocchi
1. Cut the cheeses into small pieces and set aside.

2. Gently heat the double cream in a saucepan and add the pieces
of cheese. Cook over a low heat for 5 minutes, stirring all the
time, to help the cheeses melt into the cream.
3. Meanwhile, cook the gnocchi, following the packet instructions,
then transfer the cooked gnocchi a few at a time to the saucepan
with the cheese sauce. Stir to combine.
4. Serve immediately with freshly ground black pepper to taste.
Make your own
TOMATO SAUCE
Sometimes, we don’t have time to find a recipe, check that we have
all the ingredients and go to the shops to get those things we’re
missing. Sometimes, we don’t have the energy to try a new dish, and
more often than not there are leftover ingredients in the freezer that
need to be used up. These ‘Make Your Own’ pages are designed to
help you in these moments. From the most basic tomato sauce, you
can create three delicious meals, inspired by three of Italy’s regions.
BASE RECIPE (SERVES 4)
Choose your preferred additions from the regions opposite.

Gently fry 1 garlic clove, peeled and lightly crushed, in 2 tbsp
olive oil for a couple of minutes until fragrant, then discard the
garlic.
Add 400g chopped tinned or fresh tomatoes to the garlic-infused
oil.
Add 1 tsp sea salt flakes and 15g fresh basil leaves.
Cover and cook gently for up to 30 minutes. Add a splash of
water from time to time if the sauce becomes too thick.
Spaghetti with clams
SPAGHETTI ALLE VONGOLE

serves 4
When we were talking about this dish with our friend Imma, who is
from the region of Campania where it originates, she told us a story
about an iconic Neapolitan actor, Eduardo De Filippo. Apparently, at
the end of one of his shows in 1947, he was so tired that he could
barely muster the strength to visit the restaurant with his co-stars
(and siblings) Peppino and Titina. As he got home, however, hunger
struck and a pantry raid yielded a scant variety of ingredients: merely
spaghetti, parsley, garlic, chilli and cherry tomatoes. Eduardo
persevered, rustling up a dish that he dubbed spaghetti alle vongole
fujate. In the local Neapolitan dialect, fujate means ‘escaped’, so in
Eduardo’s version of spaghetti alle vongole (‘spaghetti with clams’),
you won’t find a single clam.
In the following days, the people of Naples sought to emulate their
beloved actor, eschewing clams as never before, much to the chagrin
of the city’s seafood vendors. Luckily for them, though, the fad didn’t
last long, and Neapolitans quickly reignited their love affair with the
real spaghetti alle vongole, which lives on with the same passion to
this day.
500g spaghetti
1kg clams, soaked in plenty of water for 1 hour
2 garlic cloves, peeled and lightly crushed
1 fresh red chilli, seeds removed and finely chopped
Handful of fresh parsley, finely chopped, to serve
2. Rinse the clams for a final time under fresh water and set aside.
3. Heat the olive oil in a frying pan over a medium heat with the
garlic cloves and chilli. Gently fry the mixture for 3–4 minutes,
then add the clams, increase the heat and cook for a few
minutes, stirring every now and then until the clams have
opened. Turn off the heat and discard the garlic cloves.
containing the clams. Add a little of the pasta cooking water and
season with salt and pepper.
5. Plate and serve immediately, topped with fresh parsley.
Tagliatelle with Parma ham & cream
TAGLIATELLE PANNA E PROSCIUTTO DI PARMA

serves 4
As a young boy growing up in Newcastle, one of Finn’s formative

pasta memories came courtesy of a lady called Margaret, the
grandmother of his friend Matthew. On early Saturday afternoons in
winter, taking a short break from playing football in the street, Finn
and Matthew would visit Margaret for her pasta with bacon and
cream. It was simple but delicious, providing ample energy as they
returned to play in the snow until sunset.
Some two decades later, as they worked late into a winter’s
evening at her cottage in Biggleswade, Roberta rustled up a bowl of
creamy pasta for Finn, this time with big wodges of salty prosciutto di
Parma from her pantry. As pasta has a special way of doing, he was
instantly transported back to Margaret’s house in Newcastle.
500g tagliatelle
½ brown or white onion, or 1 shallot, finely chopped
5 slices prosciutto cotto, cut into strips
100ml single cream
Parmesan, to serve
2. Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan and cook the onion or
shallot for around 4 minutes until golden brown in colour.
3. Add the prosciutto cotto and fry for a few minutes, then slowly
pour in the cream and stir to combine. Simmer gently over a low
heat, ensuring the mixture doesn’t thicken too much. Add salt
and pepper to taste.
sauce. Toss to combine over a medium heat. If the pasta gets
too dry, add half of the reserved cooking water and stir gently to
combine.
5. Plate and serve immediately, topped with freshly ground black
pepper and freshly grated Parmesan to taste.
Spaghetti with olive oil, garlic & chilli
SPAGHETTI AGLIO, OLIO E PEPERONCINO
serves 4
Finn first encountered this staple pasta dish as a European exchange

student in Vienna. He was living with an Italian girl, Chiara, from
Naples. In their student halls, it was customary for each student to
prepare a typical dinner from their home country: a gastronomic take
on the Eurovision Song Contest, you might say. Chiara served this
sauce with bucatini, a shape similar to spaghetti but punctuated with
a buco, or ‘hole’, in the centre of each strand. While the pasta shape
was new to him at the time, Finn was more surprised by how the
three ingredients Chiara threw together, in mere moments, yielded
such a satisfying meal, one that he spent the remainder of his time in
Vienna trying to emulate.
500g spaghetti
5 garlic cloves, peeled and roughly chopped
2 fresh red chillies, finely sliced (remove the seeds first for a milder flavour)
Salt, to taste
10g fresh parsley or basil leaves, finely chopped, to serve (optional)
2. Pour the oil into a large frying pan and place over a medium
heat. Add the garlic and a touch of salt. Gently sauté the garlic
for 2 minutes until fragrant, being careful not to burn the mixture,
then remove the pan from the heat and add the sliced chillies.
oil, garlic and chilli, along with a splash of the cooking water. Stir
vigorously until the pasta is completely coated.
4. Plate and serve immediately, topped with parsley or basil, if
using.
Orecchiette with rocket pesto
ORECCHIETTE AL PESTO DI RUCOLA

serves 4
Roberta’s nonna, Maria-Assunta, largely preferred to put the wild

rocket collected on their farmland to use in the classic peasant dish
Orecchiette with Rocket and Potatoes (see here). But every once in a
while (and usually at the supplication of her granddaughter), she
would create a pesto from the rucola they foraged, fabulously green
and full of heady flavour. To ensure the dish was equally amenable to
adults, Maria-Assunta liked to add anchovies, a tradition Roberta
continues to this day. While their presence might sound strange or
misplaced in a pesto, we encourage you to give it a go. Far from
making the pesto fishy, the anchovies just give it a salty character
(and remind Roberta of her childhood). We promise you won’t even
know they’re there.
500g orecchiette
40g blanched almonds
200g rocket, washed
4 anchovies, rinsed and roughly chopped
4 tbsp pecorino Romano, grated
2 tbsp Parmesan, grated, plus extra to serve
6–8 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2. Crush the almonds using a pestle and mortar until they form a
paste. Remove from the mortar and set aside.
3. Clean the pestle and mortar, then use them to grind the rocket.
Once the rocket is broken down, add the anchovies and a little
salt and pepper and grind to combine. Finally, return the ground
almonds to the mortar and blend to combine.
4. Add the cheeses and enough extra virgin olive oil to create a
creamy and rustic consistency.
5. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and add it to a bowl with the
pesto. Toss to combine.
taste.
Tips & Substitutions
You could use a food processor in place of the pestle and mortar
in this recipe. Pulse the ingredients roughly to preserve a rustic
consistency.
Imagine a languorous late afternoon in the far southern region of
Calabria. You take an outdoor seat at a café, legs in the sun, your
head shaded by a large awning. Settling in for the remainder of the
day, you watch the world pass by. Nuns lick brightly coloured gelato
from cones, dogs lie on the hot cobblestones, and Mount Stromboli,
an active volcano straddling an eponymous island in the Tyrrhenian
Sea, can be seen on the horizon.
As the sun lowers and the warm Calabrian evening sets in, you
wander a short distance to a family-owned trattoria. It’s rumoured the
place is run by a local ’Ndrangheta (Calabrian Mafia) family, but you
wouldn’t know and don’t really mind anyway: the donna, Elisabetta,
is soft-spoken with a gentle smile and shows you to your table. You
pick over an antipasti of capicollo (a type of charcuterie enjoyed in
the region) and whet your appetite with a small glass of Gaglioppo
wine from the local vineyard. The pace is unhurried and there is no
rush to order. Elisabetta places a pastel bowl of olives on your table
as she steps outside for a cigarette.
You spend some time watching other people’s chosen dishes go
by: platters of blushing pink prawns, salt-baked sea bass deboned
tableside, and bowls of tiny octopus morsels small enough to pop in
your mouth. Elisabetta’s home-made pasta looks irresistible, though:
ribbons of tagliatelle, coated in a coral-coloured sauce of
mascarpone cheese, lemon and Calabria’s chilli-laced ‘nduja, a sort
of spicy sausage paste. Another diner is devouring a bright green
bowl of pistachio pesto, which is actually a speciality of nearby Sicily,
but no less loved here. The tang of Parmigiano-Reggiano, freshly
grated over diners’ pasta with great generosity, is heady in the warm
evening breeze.
Happily, not everything needs to be left to the imagination. In the
time it would have taken you to settle into your table, order a drink
and peruse the menu of this Calabrian trattoria (about 20 minutes,
from experience), you could have created any of this section’s
gratifying pasta recipes at home.
Working girl’s spaghetti
SPAGHETTI ALLA PUTTANESCA
serves 4
Born in Naples, the largest city of the Campania region, puttanesca is

a gutsy, tomato-based sauce, made with plenty of garlic. Traditionally,
it’s also made with anchovies fished in the Bay of Naples, giving it a
deep, savoury taste. If you don’t like anchovies, or are preparing a
plant-based puttanesca, these can simply be left out: the fresh olives
and capers provide ample salty character.
The backstory of pasta alla puttanesca is equally full of character.
The term quite literally refers to pasta made ‘in the manner of a
prostitute’. Che scandalo! Food writers have debated its
nomenclature ever since the dish emerged after the Second World
War, but the common understanding is that the dish was born in
Naples’ case di appuntamenti (‘appointment houses’). We hope you’ll
be able to infer the meaning of an appuntamento so we needn’t utter
it. As preparing the sauce was a labour of mere minutes – indeed,
simply ‘throwing whatever together’ – this could be done between
other, er, obligations.

100g anchovies, rinsed
400g fresh tomatoes, peeled and diced
100g Gaeta (or Kalamata) olives
40g capers, rinsed
1 tsp tomato purée
500g spaghetti
Salt, to taste
Handful of fresh parsley, chopped, to serve (optional)
1. In a large frying pan over a medium heat, fry the garlic and red
chilli in the oil for 2 minutes until fragrant. Once the garlic is
golden brown, remove it from the pan and discard.
2. Add the anchovies to the pan and break these into smaller
pieces by gently mashing them with a fork. After a minute or so,
add the tomatoes, olives, capers and tomato purée and mix well.
Add salt to taste and allow to cook for 10 minutes.
cooking water, then drain the pasta and add it to the sauce. Toss
to coat, adding a splash of the cooking water to loosen, if
needed.
5. Plate and serve immediately, topped with the parsley, if using.
Orecchiette with pistachio pesto
ORECCHIETTE AL PESTO DI PISTACCHIO
serves 4
The pistachio tree (from the Greek pistàkion) is native to the

Mediterranean basin. Its pastel green nuts are often flecked prettily
with shades of pink, and are used widely across the region, from
Turkey to Italy and beyond. The pistachio was prized in the Middle
East by the ancient Jews, but it was the Arabs, seizing Sicily from the
Byzantines in the ninth century, who first cultivated pistachio trees in
the rich volcanic soils around Mount Etna, where they continue to
flourish today.
In our opinion, the finest pistachios are from Bronte, a town just 16
kilometres from Mount Etna. There, they’re known as the ‘green gold’,
in reference to their importance to the local economy. And with such a
munificent pistachio crop on the island, this vibrant pesto has become
an undeniable classic of the Sicilian kitchen.
200g raw, unsalted pistachio nuts, shelled

15–20g fresh basil leaves, roughly torn
1 garlic clove, halved
500g orecchiette
Salt, to taste
1. Toast the pistachio nuts in a dry frying pan over a medium-high
heat for around 3–4 minutes. Keep them moving to prevent them
burning, and once lightly browned take the pan off the heat.
2. Place the basil leaves, Parmesan, garlic and a drizzle of olive oil
into a mortar and grind with a pestle until creamy.
3. Add the pistachios and grind until they break down and combine
with the mixture. You should have a creamy yet slightly chunky
consistency. Drizzle in the remaining olive oil and continue to
grind until you have a creamy paste. Add salt to taste.
5. Once the pasta is al dente, reserve a ladleful of the starchy pasta
cooking water. Add this to the pesto and stir through to loosen
the sauce. Drain the pasta and return it to the pan. Add the pesto
and toss until the pasta is completely coated.
taste.
consistency.
Gnocchi from Sorrento
GNOCCHI ALLA SORRENTINA
serves 4
Naples, in the sun-drenched region of Campania, is renowned in the

gastronomic world. Less renowned, but no less important in the
culinary story of Campania, are the many small towns and villages
dotted along the region’s iconic Amalfi Coast. Sorrento, for example,
perched on cliffs overlooking the Bay of Naples, gives its name to this
dish.
This wholesome recipe dates back to the sixteenth century, when
the first potatoes from the New World were unloaded in the town’s
irresistibly pretty marinas. Locals combined them with flour and eggs
to form rustic dumplings. When we devour this, we like to pretend
we’re dining on one of Sorrento’s many balconies, overlooking the
coast, with the fragrance of orange blossoms heady in the air.

400g tomato passata
10g fresh basil leaves
500g gnocchi
170g fior di latte (or buffalo) mozzarella, cut into small pieces
1. Preheat the oven to 180°C.
2. Place the olive oil in a frying pan over a medium heat. Add the
garlic and cook for 1–2 minutes until fragrant, then remove the
clove from the pan and discard.
3. Add the tomato passata, half the fresh basil leaves and the salt
to the pan. Turn up the heat slightly and simmer for 7–8 minutes.
4. While the sauce simmers, cook the gnocchi, following packet
instructions, then transfer the cooked gnocchi to the sauce,
tossing gently to coat.
5. Transfer some of the gnocchi to a 20cm baking tray to create a
first layer at the bottom of the tray. Add a scattering of the
mozzarella, Parmesan and basil before adding a second layer of
the gnocchi. Continue this process until all of the gnocchi are in
the baking tray. Top the final layer with mozzarella and
Parmesan.
6. Place the baking tray in the oven for around 10 minutes until the
cheese has melted.
taste.
Pasta with peas
PASTA E PISELLI
serves 2
If two ingredients were ever to be described as a match made in

heaven, they would surely be peas and pancetta. The saltiness of
pancetta complements the sweetness of the humble pea so well, and
this simple recipe of the Neapolitan kitchen is testament to the power
of this poor man’s pairing. Indeed, pasta e piselli was born of
necessity: Naples, like much of the Italian south, was impoverished
for centuries.
Despite a wholesale improvement in living standards, particularly
since the postwar economic boom, this dish remains a favourite not
just of Neapolitans but all Italians, and is the sort of food prepared by
nonne, with love, for grandchildren across the nation.

1 brown or white onion, finely diced
70g pancetta, cubed
600g peas (fresh or frozen, both work well)
500g malloreddus
Parmesan, grated, to serve
1. Place the oil in a saucepan over a low heat. Add the diced onion
and sweat for around 5 minutes until soft, then add the pancetta
and cook for an additional 5 minutes until the meat begins to
crisp.
2. Add the peas to the pan, along with a splash of hot water. Cover
the pan with a lid and allow the peas to steam.
3. Meanwhile, bring a pot of generously salted water to the boil.
Cook the pasta until al dente, following the packet instructions.
4. While the pasta cooks, mash around half of the peas in the pan
using a fork or potato masher to form a coarse purée. Give the
ingredients one last stir and remove from the heat.
to coat, adding a further splash of cooking water, if needed.
Season to taste.
taste.
Rigatoni with a spicy tomato sauce
RIGATONI ALL’ARRABBIATA
serves 4
Since the arrival of tomatoes from South America in the sixteenth

century, Italians have formed an enduring love affair with the fruit,
which they christened the pomodoro (‘golden apple’). Today,
hundreds of varieties are native to Italy, from Sicily’s Pomodoro di
Pachino to the Pomodoro di San Marzano, grown in the volcanic soils
of Mount Vesuvius. Italians love to visit local markets in search of the
best specimens, touching and smelling the fruit as they go. Often,
they return to their homes with a glut of tomatoes to be used as the
base of fresh sauces.
This sauce is one such example, originating in the region of Lazio.
The inclusion of chilli flakes gives the sauce its name: arrabbiata
(‘angry’) refers to its ferocious heat. Hanging chillies adorn the
verandas of homes across the Italian south, so that, when the need
for heat presents itself, pasta all’arrabbiata can be conjured up at
short notice.

600g quality tinned tomatoes, chopped
15g dried red chilli flakes
500g rigatoni
Salt, to taste
10g fresh parsley, finely chopped, to serve (optional)
1. In a frying pan over a medium heat, fry the garlic in the oil for 2
minutes until fragrant. Once the garlic is golden brown, remove it
from the pan and discard.
2. Add the chopped tomatoes, chilli flakes and a little salt to the
pan. Stir to combine and allow to simmer for 15–20 minutes over
a low heat.
3. In the meantime, bring a pot of generously salted water to the
boil. Cook the pasta until al dente, following the packet
instructions.
to coat, adding a splash of the cooking water to loosen the
sauce, if needed.
5. Plate and serve immediately, topped with the parsley, if using.
WHO IS NONNA?
. But this short word of

PUT SIMPLY, ‘NONNA’ IS THE ITALIAN WORD FOR GRANDMOTHER
just five letters invokes something far greater than the sum of its
parts. And just as Rome wasn’t built in a day, so we have little hope
of deconstructing what ‘nonna’ really means to Italians in this short
chapter. Instead, to give you a glimpse into the spirit of this great
character and matriarch, we thought we’d tell you the real-life story of
Roberta’s nonna.
Maria-Assunta d’Elia lived in the town of Foggia in northern Puglia, in

the centre of a wheat-growing area sometimes referred to as the
granary of Italy. Each day, she spent hours standing at a broad table
in the back garden, filling enormous glass jars with fresh orecchiette,
made by hand the way her mother had taught her. Nothing but
semola, water, a wooden board and hard work went into creating this
precious pasta native to Puglia. Maria-Assunta grazed each little
piece of dough with a flick of her mother’s orecchiette knife, passed
down to her and now cherished by Roberta, to form the traditional
shape, like a little veined ear.
This was a Sisyphean task, for no sooner had the jar been filled than
it was emptied again, because Maria-Assunta presided over an
enormous family. Her ten children all had spouses and had between
two and five grandchildren apiece. The entire family (including our
Roberta) lived together in a two-building complex, Residenza d’Elia,
ruled by Maria-Assunta’s firm but loving hand.
Each year, Nonna Assunta would oversee the d’Elia clan as they
harvested olives from the sprawling groves on the land. This labour
began at dawn, so as to afford time to complete the work before
Puglia’s ferocious sun would set in later in the morning. Together,
under Maria-Assunta’s supervision, the family would hand-press extra
virgin olive oil from the crop, enduring the hard work and sour smell of
the olives to provide oil for the family to use throughout the year.
During this time, Maria-Assunta would arbitrate family disputes,
discipline unruly children (notably Roberta), and spin the most
unlikely (and often entirely fictional) stories. With the maiden name
‘Coppola’, Maria-Assunta’s favourite gag involved her insisting to her
grandchildren that she was, in fact, the cousin of the famous
Hollywood director.
In high summer, when temperatures soared into the 30s, she took
vast piles of the fresh tomatoes that Foggia is known for and
transformed them into rich, smooth passata, picking through bunches
of basil leaves. Maria-Assunta pressed her granddaughters into
service making orecchiette and passata, believing this to be an
important preparation to be good wives and home-makers.
Like many nonne across Italy, Maria-Assunta understood the value of

hard work and frugality. A teenager during the First World War, she
grew up in lean times. A mother in the Second World War, she left
Puglia to escape the invading forces and the bombings, making her
way by foot, children in hand, across the fields to Calabria, the
adjacent region to the west of Puglia. Having lived on farms all her
life, she knew which herbs were edible, which were poisonous, and
which needed to be cooked to rid them of prickles. As they went from
town to town, she bought semola flour from the locals and made
orecchiette to remind her family of home.
the family would hand-press extra virgin olive oil from the crop,
enduring the hard work and sour smell of the olives to provide oil for
the family to use throughout the year.
Almost half a century later, when Roberta came to know her nonna in
more peaceful and prosperous times, it seemed that Maria-Assunta
had always been old and wise. She had beautiful, soft skin, golden
from many days spent in the sun making pasta, yet wizened by its
rays and the difficulties she had endured. Maria-Assunta spent her
days petting her cat, Laura, imparting words of wisdom and
confidence to her grandchildren, and making pasta day in and day
out.
Nonna Assunta has long passed, but Roberta still uses her knife,
passed down through the generations, to make their treasured
orecchiette. Stoic, comforting, repository of tradition, anchor of the
family. Nonna.
Gnocchi with basil pesto
GNOCCHI AL PESTO
serves 4
This dish is close to the heart of our co-founder, Alessandro, who

grew up in Genoa, the city that gives its name to this pesto. As a
child, his nonna, Maddalena, would prepare fresh pesto alla
Genovese as he watched, crushing (Italian has a better verb,
pestare) the fresh ingredients by hand in her stone mortar with a
heavy pestle.
You can use a food processor here if you must, but we’d urge you
to resist this. One of the joys of authentic pesto is its rustic texture,
which comes courtesy of a good pestle and mortar workout. We’ve
paired it with gnocchi, as this is what Alessandro’s nonna served her
pesto with, but any pasta shape works well. Use the freshest basil
and very best extra virgin olive oil you can find: the quality of the
ingredients makes all the difference when preparing pesto.
15g pine nuts

80g fresh basil leaves, roughly chopped
½ garlic clove, minced
250g gnocchi
Salt, to taste
1. Gently toast the pine nuts in a dry frying pan over a medium-high
heat until fragrant, around 2–3 minutes. Keep the kernels moving
to prevent them burning.
2. Place the basil, Parmesan, pecorino Romano, garlic and 2
tablespoons of the extra virgin olive oil in a mortar and grind with
a pestle until creamy.
3. Add the pine nuts and grind until combined with the oil and basil
mixture. You should have a creamy yet slightly chunky
consistency. Drizzle in the remaining olive oil and continue to
grind until you have a creamy paste.
4. Cook the gnocchi, following the packet instructions, then return
the cooked gnocchi to the pan with the pesto and toss until
coated.
taste.
consistency.
Tagliatelle with smoked salmon
TAGLIATELLE AL SALMONE AFFUMICATO

serves 2
Pasta al salmone seemed to have its heyday in the 1980s, when

smoked salmon was en vogue. Although smoked salmon has since
lost something of its lustre, this dish is fortunately no less delicious
today.
Like so many others in the book, this recipe calls for only a few
ingredients, so it is important to use the best smoked salmon you can
find as it will make all the difference. We get ours from our friends at
Daylesford, an organic farm in Gloucestershire. It’s worth mentioning,
too, that because of its egg constituent, fresh pasta is preferred here.
Although preparing your own tagliatelle (see here) might sound
onerous, we promise it isn’t. More importantly, it’ll elevate your pasta
al salmone to new heights. Remember, if using fresh, you’ll want
200g of pasta per person.
2 tbsp unsalted butter

½ brown or white onion, finely chopped
125g smoked salmon, roughly chopped
100ml double cream
250g tagliatelle
Black pepper, to taste
1. Melt the butter in a frying pan over a medium heat. Add the onion
and cook for 4 minutes until browned, then add the salmon,
cooking for around 1 minute until opaque. Slowly add the cream
and cook until the sauce has thickened slightly.
cooking water, then drain the pasta and add to the sauce. Toss to
coat, adding a splash of the cooking water to loosen the sauce, if
needed.
4. Plate and serve immediately with freshly ground black pepper to
taste.
Rigatoni with radicchio & Gorgonzola
RIGATONI AL RADICCHIO E GORGONZOLA

serves 6
Radicchio is a type of chicory from Italy that counts Roberta among

its biggest fans. It owes its remarkable colour to a Belgian
agronomist, Francesco Van den Borre, who arrived in the Italian
region of Veneto in the nineteenth century and used a whitening
process to transform the green pigmentation of radicchio into white
and deep red. Pasta with radicchio looks (and tastes) fantastic and is
certain to impress guests, particularly when served with salty, blue-
veined Gorgonzola cheese, as here.

1 shallot, finely diced
1 head of radicchio, cleaned and sliced
150g prosciutto di Parma, cut into strips
300g Gorgonzola
750g rigatoni
40g Parmesan, to serve
1. Heat the oil in a frying pan and fry the shallot until golden brown.
Add the radicchio and 100ml of water (around half a glass) and
let it cook over a medium heat for 10 minutes.
2. In a separate pan, dry fry the prosciutto for 2–3 minutes over a
medium-high heat until crisp, then add it to the radicchio.
3. If the sauce is too dry, add a drop of water. Then add the
Gorgonzola and stir until completely melted. Once it reaches a
creamy consistency, remove the sauce from the heat and season
to taste.
until al dente, following the packet instructions. Once the pasta is
al dente, drain and add to the sauce, tossing to coat.
taste.
Venetian spaghetti
SPAGHETTI ALLA VENETA

serves 6
Like many other regions of the country, Veneto, in the northeast of

Italy, has its own dialect. Known as Veneto, its four million or so
speakers are more likely to regard it as a language than a dialect.
Venetians are fiercely proud of their heritage (the Republic of Venice
was once a major maritime power) and arguably favour visitors
speaking the vernacular, so those planning a trip to the region would
do well to know some of the lingo.
This recipe is inspired by Venice’s spaghetti alla busara, a pasta
dish with tomatoes and scampi. It’s said to take its name from the
Venetian word busièra, or ‘liar’, perhaps in reference to the way the
tomatoes conceal the seafood within. As Roberta doesn’t like to lie
(or perhaps more saliently tends to prefer seafood without tomatoes),
we’ve forgone the fruit in this recipe for full-frontal seafood flavour.

3 tbsp breadcrumbs
2 garlic cloves, peeled
16 large raw king prawns, peeled, deveined and washed
150–200ml white wine
1 tsp sweet paprika
500g spaghetti
1. Combine the parsley and breadcrumbs in a bowl.

2. Heat the olive oil in a large non-stick pan over a medium heat,
add the garlic cloves and cook for 2 minutes, letting them brown
slightly and become fragrant, then remove and discard the garlic.
3. Add the prawns to the pan, arranging them in a single layer, and
cook for a couple of minutes before adding the white wine.
Carefully flip each prawn and continue to cook. Season with the
paprika and salt and remove from the heat.
4. Sprinkle the parsley and breadcrumb mixture over the contents
of the pan.
6. Once the pasta is al dente, drain the pasta and add to the pan
with the prawns, tossing to coat. Sauté for a couple of minutes,
then plate and serve immediately, topped with ground black
pepper.
Pappardelle with golden tomatoes
PAPPARDELLE CON DATTERINI FRESCHI GIALLI
serves 4
Tomatoes are surely one of the greatest blessings bestowed by

nature on humanity. They are held up as a prime example of umami,
one of the five basic tastes, which is essentially savouriness. But
tomatoes can also be wonderfully sweet. Yellow and orange tomatoes
in particular contain very little acid and are notably sweeter than their
red-skinned siblings. We like to roast them with good olive oil and
garlic, and devour them with freshly torn basil. Sunshine on a plate.
450g yellow and/or orange tomatoes, halved

1 tsp fresh oregano leaves, removed from stem
500g pappardelle
Salt and pepper, to taste
Chilli oil, to serve (optional)
1. Preheat the oven to 200ºC and line a baking tray with parchment
paper.
2. Place the tomatoes on the tray, drizzle with the olive oil and
season with salt and oregano. Roast the tomatoes for 5 minutes,
then reduce the oven temperature to 180ºC and roast for a
further 5 minutes, ensuring the tomatoes don’t blister or char too
much. Once cooked, remove from the oven and set aside to cool
slightly.
instructions.
4. Once the pasta is al dente, drain the pasta and return to the pot
with the roasted tomatoes, stirring to combine and breaking
down the tomatoes slightly as you mix. Add the shredded basil
and salt to taste (you may require more than you think to offset
the sweetness of the tomatoes).
5. Plate and serve immediately, topped with a drizzle of chilli oil, if
desired.
Tagliatelle with courgette, mint & chilli
TAGLIATELLE CON PESTO DI ZUCCHINE, MENTA

E PEPERONCINO
serves 4
Courgettes are relative newcomers to Italian cuisine, having first been

cultivated in Italy only in the nineteenth century. Since then,
production has proliferated owing to the fruit’s agreeable flavour and
the squash’s willingness to grow. Unfortunately, as with many other
gifts from the botanical world (notably tomatoes), we have come to
expect courgettes year-round, even when they are far from their best.
We heartily recommend you prepare this dish during the summer
months, when courgettes are in season and full of bright, fresh
flavour. If you can, visit a farmers’ market and pick out a kaleidoscope
of different colours and shapes. While supermarket shelves would
suggest otherwise, courgettes come in a multitude of varieties and
will fill your kitchen with sunshine.

4 courgettes, washed and diced
½ garlic clove, minced
½ fresh red chilli, seeds removed and finely chopped
10–15g fresh mint leaves, finely chopped
500g tagliatelle
1. Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Add
the courgettes, garlic and chilli along with a splash of water and
fry gently for around 10 minutes until the courgettes start to
soften. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
2. Once the courgettes are cooked, remove the pan from the heat
and allow the mixture to cool before transferring to a food
processor. Add the mint, Parmesan and almonds and pulse until
a creamy yet rustic sauce is formed.
cooking water, then drain the pasta and return it to the pot with
the sauce. Toss until coated, adding a little cooking water to
loosen, if necessary.
taste.
Greengrocers’ rigatoni
RIGATONI ALL’ORTOLANA
serves 6
This recipe derives its name, with neither contention nor complexity,
from the simple fact that it is full of vegetables, much like a well-
stocked greengrocer. Ultimately, pasta all’ortolana is one of those
recipes that lends itself to a fridge raid. Truth be told, you can use
more or less any vegetables you might have at your disposal to
create a dish that is as munificently healthy as it is delicious.
Aubergine must feature, however, if only for tradition’s sake. Ensure
you use good tomatoes, and don’t forgo the garlic – these are key in
such a simple recipe.

½ fresh red chilli, seeds removed and finely chopped
2 courgettes, finely chopped
1 red pepper, finely chopped
1 large aubergine, finely chopped
100g cherry tomatoes, washed and diced
15g fresh basil leaves, finely chopped
750g rigatoni
50g Parmesan, or vegetarian alternative, grated
Salt, to taste
1. Heat the oil in a pan and sauté the garlic and chilli for 2 minutes.
2. Add the courgettes, red pepper and aubergine to the pan and
sauté over a high heat for a couple of minutes. Cover with a lid,
reduce the heat to medium and cook for 15 minutes.
3. Add the diced cherry tomatoes, salt and basil and stir together.
Put the lid back on and cook for a further 2–3 minutes.
5. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and add to the sauce. Toss to
coat, then add the grated Parmesan and sauté the pasta for
another couple of minutes in the pan. Plate and serve
immediately.
Pappardelle with wild mushrooms
PAPPARDELLE AL FUNGHI PORCINI
serves 2
The late Marcella Hazan, custodian of cucina italiana and one of Roberta’s
favourite food writers, once said that wild mushrooms were reason
enough to visit Italy in the absence of any other. Those Italians lucky
enough to live in the shadows of the country’s Alps and Apennine
Mountains would presumably agree, but they might be reluctant to
shout quite so loudly about it.
You see, the wild mushrooms that sprout there, in particular the
porcini variety found in the late summer and autumn, fetch a
handsome price. So much so that mushroom picking has become a
pastime, even a profession, in mountain communities. Those who
seek out mushrooms for a living are named fungaioli. Tragically, their
profession is fraught with danger; over the years, many fungaioli have
perished while out picking the very mushrooms that had hitherto
sustained them. This isn’t due to the poisonous properties of imitator
mushrooms (though amateurs are advised to exercise caution here),
but rather countless hours spent scaling perilous mountains where
the most precious specimens can be found.
40g unsalted butter

450g wild mushrooms of your choice, cleaned and sliced
200g porcini mushrooms (fresh or rehydrated, both work well)
15–20g fresh parsley, chopped
1. Place the butter and oil in a pan over a medium heat. When the
butter has melted, add the mushrooms and sauté over a
medium-high heat for 3–4 minutes. Some mushrooms may
exude natural moisture; continue to sauté gently until the water
evaporates.
2. Add the garlic and fry for a minute or two. Add 100ml water
(around half a glass) and leave to simmer on a low heat for 5–6
minutes, then stir through the parsley and season with salt and
pepper.
4. Once the pasta is al dente, reserve half a cup of the starchy
pasta cooking water, then drain the pasta and add it to the
sauce. Toss to coat, adding the reserved cooking water to loosen
the sauce, if needed.
taste.
Spaghetti with crab, lemon & chilli
SPAGHETTI AL GRANCHIO, LIMONE E

PEPERONCINO
serves 6
We are firm believers that crab (granchio in Italian) is best served

simply. This isn’t because we are lazy (though we have our
moments), but because the delicate flavour of crab lends itself to
uncomplicated preparation. Serving high-quality fresh ingredients in a
stripped back way is also a key tenet of the Italian culinary
philosophy, which this recipe seems to encapsulate.
As crab is also a relatively expensive ingredient, accentuating its
flavour with fresh lemon is the best way to go. Some recipes call for
crab to be served in a tomato-based sauce, which strikes us as
disrespectful to this special crustacean, whose subtle flavour can be
lost to the tomatoes. Seaside eateries across Italy seem to share this
view, serving crab simply with lemon and perhaps red chilli. So this
recipe makes us think of summer holidays spent along the Italian
coastline.

350g white crab meat
100ml white wine
750g spaghetti
Grated zest of 1 unwaxed lemon
1. Heat the oil in a frying pan and cook the garlic and chilli over a
low heat for 2 minutes until fragrant.
2. Add the crab meat and raise the heat slightly. Then add the wine
and continue cooking for 3–4 minutes. If the sauce is too dry, add
a little water. Stir through the chopped parsley.
crab. Toss to coat, and continue cooking on a low to medium
heat, adding a little of the cooking water at a time until everything
is nicely combined and glossy.
5. Add the lemon zest and toss to combine, then season with salt
and black pepper. Plate and serve immediately.
Malloreddus with cavolo nero pesto
SPAGHETTI AL GRANCHIO, LIMONE E

PEPERONCINO
serves 4
Also known as Tuscan kale, cavolo nero (literally ‘black cabbage’)

has gained attention in recent years for its health-boosting
credentials. Its black-green leaves, meanwhile, are a thing of almost
funereal melodrama, as though they might have been dug up in the
Addams Family’s back garden.
This variety of kale didn’t used to bask in such stardom, though.
For centuries, cavolo nero was a staple crop of Tuscan peasants,
being widely used in their ribollita, a bread stew from the region, as
well as the classic minestrone. Regardless of its slightly faddy new-
found fame, we love to use cavolo nero in this pesto. It is (happily)
distinguished from other pestos by its robust flavour and Halloween-
esque green.
600g cavolo nero, washed and roughly chopped

45g pine nuts
1–2 garlic cloves, peeled and cut in half
750g malloreddus
Salt, to taste
1. Bring a pot of generously salted water to the boil. Add the cavolo
nero and cook for 3 minutes. Drain the cavolo nero and run
under cold water to stop the cooking process and maintain its
bright green colour. Squeeze out any excess water from the
cavolo nero and set aside.
2. Place the Parmesan, pine nuts and garlic in a food processor.
Blitz together until a rustic texture is achieved. Add the cavolo
nero to the food processor with the olive oil and blitz again. If it’s
too thick, add a tablespoon of water and blend again. Add salt to
taste.
4. Once the pasta is al dente, drain the pasta and return to the pot
with the pesto. Toss to coat, then plate and serve immediately
with freshly grated Parmesan to taste.
Pappardelle with saffron, pancetta &
artichokes
PAPPARDELLE CON ZAFFERANO, PANCETTA

CROCCANTE E CARCIOFI
serves 6
Saffron is one of the few ingredients that, despite more than three
millennia of documentation, continues to capture our collective
imagination. It commands an air of mystery and intrigue, perhaps due
to its enduring status as the world’s most expensive spice. Ancient
Rome was equally enthralled – whenever Emperor Nero returned to
the imperial capital, strands of saffron would be cast upon the streets
as a perfumed salutation. This seems unimaginably decadent:
costing around $5,000 per kilo at the time of writing, one can scarcely
imagine a modern politician being bestowed such a golden hello.
2 large artichokes, peeled

Juice of ½ unwaxed lemon
75ml double cream
5g saffron
40g Parmesan, grated, plus extra to serve
1 garlic clove, peeled and thinly sliced
100g pancetta, cubed
750g pappardelle
1. Start by preparing the artichokes. Remove the hard outer leaves
and the stem from each. Slice the artichokes in half, remove the
choke (the hairy innards) and cut off the tips of the artichoke
leaves. Slice these halves into smaller pieces. Soak the
artichokes in water with the lemon juice for 5 minutes.
2. While the artichokes soak, bring a pan of generously salted
water to the boil. Transfer the artichokes to the pan and cook for
10 minutes, then remove them with a slotted spoon and set
aside, saving the cooking water for later use.
3. In a saucepan, gently heat the cream for around 2 minutes. Add
the saffron and Parmesan, turn off the heat and stir to combine.
4. In a separate pan, sauté the garlic in the oil for 2 minutes until
soft and translucent. Add the pancetta and fry until crispy, around
3–4 minutes. Add the sliced artichokes and sauté for 4–5
minutes. Remove any hard pieces of artichokes that remain.
5. Finally, add the saffron sauce to the artichokes and mix until fully
incorporated.
6. Bring the artichoke cooking water to the boil. Cook the pasta until
al dente, following the packet instructions. Once the pasta is al
dente, drain the pasta and add to the sauce, tossing to coat.
Season to taste.
taste.
Spaghetti from Amatrice
SPAGHETTI ALL’AMATRICIANA
serves 2
The all’amatriciana sauce is often considered a staple of Roman

cuisine, as it is ubiquitous in restaurants of the Italian capital. The
people of Amatrice, more than 100 kilometres to the northeast, have
a different opinion. For the Amatriciani, this is their dish, and one that
should be protected at all costs. The acclaimed chef Carlo Cracco
was even condemned by the deputy mayor of the town for his lapse
of judgement after admitting to using garlic in his version. The
magazine Gambero Rosso reported on ‘the scandal of the garlic in
the Amatriciana’. Cracco apologised, calling this an ‘unpardonable’
mistake.
In Rome, the all’amatriciana sauce is often served with bucatini, so
much so that many now consider this pasta pairing established
tradition. This is not actually the case. Spaghetti is the traditional
pairing for the sauce and is the only pasta Amatriciani will endorse.
Given their ferocity when it comes to protecting the traditions of their
sauce, we have always been happy to oblige.
1 fresh red chilli, seeds removed and finely chopped (use freshly cracked black pepper for a
milder option)
250g spaghetti
70g pecorino Romano, grated
meat into cubes. Fry the cubes in a dry frying pan over a low
heat for 6–7 minutes until crisp and browned. Once the fat
renders, add the chilli and continue to fry for 2 minutes.
2. Add the tomatoes and crush them to create a rustic sauce. Allow
this to simmer for at least 5 minutes so that it starts to thicken
slightly before seasoning with salt and pepper.
cooking water, then drain the pasta and add it to the sauce with
the pecorino Romano, tossing until the spaghetti is completely
coated. If necessary, add a splash of the cooking water to loosen
the sauce. Plate and serve immediately.
Tagliatelle with walnut sauce
TAGLIATELLE AL SALSA DI NOCI
serves 4
Many will be familiar with pesto alla Genovese, the classic green
pesto from Genoa made with fresh basil and pine nuts. Despite being
conceived in the same city, few know of its caffè-latte-coloured
sibling, salsa di noci. This is true even within Italy. In any case, those
who have tried this sauce agree that it is something of a gastronomic
B-side to its better-known basil counterpart (this is no reflection of its
beauty, merely its popularity). It’s simple but incredibly elegant,
highlighting the subtle flavour of walnuts by quietly featuring
marjoram, garlic and a drop of milk. If you can find them, use
Sorrento walnuts; we’ve found that they’re the most delicious.
50g pine nuts

20g stale breadcrumbs
1 garlic clove, peeled and halved
1 tsp dried marjoram
150g raw walnuts
100ml whole milk
500g tagliatelle
Salt, to taste
1. Place the pine nuts, olive oil, breadcrumbs, Parmesan, garlic,
marjoram and salt in a mortar and grind with a pestle in a circular
motion until a rugged paste is achieved.
2. Add the walnuts and continue grinding until combined, then
transfer to a large bowl.
3. Heat the milk gently in a saucepan before adding to the bowl
containing the pesto mixture. Do this gradually to control the
consistency of the pesto. Mix until well combined, adding as
much milk as is necessary to give a creamy yet textured sauce.
cooking water, then drain the pasta and add it to the pesto. Toss
to coat, adding a splash of the cooking water to loosen, if
needed.
taste.
consistency.
Make your own
RAGÙ
Ragù is quite simply the Italian word for a meat-based sauce. Often,
ragù is simmered for many hours, but this doesn’t have to be the
case if you’re in a hurry. Many different regions of Italy have their
own signature ragù, and we’ve included three of our favourite
options here. By happy coincidence, each can be prepared in no
more than 30 minutes. The base of celery, carrot and onion (known
as a soffritto) is ever present in ragù recipes and provides an
excellent way to put any of these leftover vegetables to use.

Heat 3 tbsp olive oil in a pan over a medium-high heat.
Add 50g finely chopped white or brown onion, 50g finely
chopped celery and 50g finely diced carrot and cook for 3–4
minutes until softened.
Add meat(s), as indicated in the options opposite, and begin to
brown.
Add 80ml white wine and allow to evaporate.
Add salt and pepper to taste, 1 bay leaf, 500g tomato passata
and allow to simmer for up to 30 minutes. Add a splash of water
from time to time if the sauce becomes too thick.
Seafarer’s spaghetti
SPAGHETTI ALLA MARINARA

serves 4
A recipe really wouldn’t be Italian if its origins weren’t in some way

contentious, and, true to form, theories explaining the origins of the
salsa marinara abound. Some claim this sauce – which in its simplest
form can contain only tomatoes, oregano and garlic – was created by
cooks on board ships returning from the New World. With a bounty of
tomatoes suddenly at their disposal, or so the theory goes, these
chefs of the high seas spent the return voyage creating new recipes,
and the salsa alla marinara (‘marino’ being the Italian word for sailor)
was, apparently, the result.
Others insist that the dish was actually created by the sailors’ wives
when their husbands returned from their voyages. Regardless of
which theory floats your boat, what seems indivisible from the story of
this sauce is the sea. And so, in tribute to it, our version includes
anchovies, which melt down and dissolve into the sauce, leaving
behind a mere whisper of the salty waters they came from.

1 garlic clove, peeled and sliced
4–5 anchovies, rinsed and roughly chopped
300g tomato passata
Dried oregano, to taste
750g spaghetti
Pecorino Romano, grated, to serve
1. Heat the oil in a frying pan, add the garlic and fry for 2 minutes
until golden, then add the anchovies and fry for another couple of
minutes.
2. Add the passata and simmer for about 15 minutes, then add
dried oregano to taste. Simmer gently for 10 minutes, then turn
off the heat.
to coat the spaghetti and continue cooking for about 2 more
minutes. If the sauce is too dry, add a splash of the cooking
water. Stir through the parsley.
Romano to taste.
Tagliatelle with ‘nduja, lemon &
mascarpone
TAGLIATELLE ‘NDUJA, LIMONE E MASCARPONE

serves 4
Finn first ate this dish at a London restaurant, Padella, which

specialises in fresh pasta. We were already serving a similar ‘nduja
sauce at Pasta Evangelists, which was lovely, but the addition of
lemon and mascarpone was, to the credit of the Padella team,
inspired.
‘Nduja, for the uninitiated, is a spicy sausage from Calabria, made
with the region’s native chillies, and has a spreadable, pâté-like
consistency, not dissimilar to Spain’s sobrasada. The addition of
mascarpone tempers its ferocious heat while transforming its deep
red colour to a pretty coral. Sharp lemon cuts through the richness of
both sausage and mascarpone, and we think it’s just delicious.
500g tagliatelle
120g ’nduja or sobrasada
300g mascarpone
Juice and grated zest of 1 unwaxed lemon
2. Heat a splash of oil in a large frying pan over a medium heat.
Add the garlic to the pan and cook for 2 minutes until fragrant,
then add the ’nduja and fry for a couple of minutes, helping the
sausage to disintegrate with a fork. Remove the garlic from the
pan and discard.
3. Reduce the heat and add the mascarpone, salt and pepper and
a splash of the pasta cooking water. Stir to combine, then add
the Parmesan and mix until creamy. Remove the sauce from the
heat and stir through the lemon juice and zest.
4. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and toss with the sauce until
coated.
taste.
Spaghetti with wild garlic pesto
SPAGHETTI AL PESTO D’AGLIO SELVATICO
serves 4
Wild garlic has a sort of fairytale ring to it, as though it were part of
some fabled woodland kingdom that humans cross into from time to
time. In reality, the plant lives around us, abundantly, all year. Only its
white flowers are ephemeral, appearing for a short period in the
spring. Known as erba orsina, or ‘the bear’s herb’ in Italian, some say
the leaves were the first food enjoyed by bears waking from their
winter slumber.
You’ll be able to buy wild garlic flowers at farmers’ markets, as well
as online, usually between April and June. Much more rewarding,
though, is to gather your own. It is found throughout the British Isles,
and you can find information about where your nearest wild garlic
plants are online. In London, for example, we’ve found wild garlic
growing in a cemetery in Stoke Newington. This fragrant pesto, so
evocative of springtime, was the happy result of our foraging.
150g wild garlic leaves, washed

10g pine nuts
3 tbsp lemon juice
500g spaghetti
Salt, to taste
1. Place the wild garlic, almonds, Parmesan, pecorino Romano,

pine nuts, olive oil and salt into a food processor and blitz until a
creamy yet slightly chunky sauce is formed.
2. Transfer to a bowl and gradually add the lemon juice to the
mixture, stirring to combine.
the pesto. Toss until coated, adding a little cooking water to
taste.
Woodsman’s tagliatelle
PAPPARDELLE ALLA BOSCAIOLA

serves 4
The Italian word boscaiola refers to a ‘woodsman’ or ‘lumberjack’. In

this way, pasta alla boscaiola denotes pasta made in the manner of a
woodsman – someone who spends their days in the shadows of the
forests, emerging only as the sun sets to return to their homes. While
many recipes for pasta alla boscaiola abound, one thing is certain:
the mushroom is the protagonist of this woodland tale. And the
porcini variety, found deep within the forests of central Italy, is
particularly ubiquitous, if not ever-present, in boscaiola recipes.

500g mixed wild mushrooms, cleaned and roughly chopped
80g salsiccia piccante (spicy sausage) or chorizo, roughly chopped
500g tomato passata
750g tagliatelle
Parmesan, to serve
1. Place the olive oil and garlic in a frying pan over a gentle heat,
and cook for 2 minutes until the garlic is browned and fragrant,
taking care not to burn it.
2. Add the mushrooms and sausage to the pan and sauté for 5
minutes, then add the passata and let the sauce simmer for 20
minutes.
instructions.
4. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and add to the sauce, tossing to
coat. Add the parsley and black pepper and mix to combine.
taste.
Orecchiette with red pesto from Sicily
ORECCHIETTE CON PESTO ALLA TRAPANESE
serves 4
On the Mediterranean’s largest island, Sicily, the arrival of springtime

is heralded by the blossoming of almond trees. Those who have
visited the region will recall their beauty: a vision of pink-white flowers
that enrapture the islanders anew each year. This tradition is akin to
Japan’s hanami, or ‘flower viewing’, when locals enjoy the transient
beauty of their islands’ similar-looking cherry blossoms.
The people of Sicily don’t just admire the trees, though. Their fruit,
the almond nut, is used extensively in cucina siciliana. Centuries ago,
when sailors from the Republic of Genoa docked in the island’s ports,
particularly Trapani, their traditional agliata sauce (made from garlic
and walnuts, the precursor for Salsa di Noci, see here) was adapted
to make use of the island’s bountiful almonds and tomatoes. Most
versions of the resultant pesto alla Trapanese call for fresh tomatoes,
but we prefer the deep flavour of sun-dried tomatoes, another staple
of the island.
½ garlic clove, roughly chopped

200g sun-dried tomatoes
50g fresh basil leaves, roughly torn
500g orecchiette
1. Place the garlic and salt in a mortar and grind with a pestle in a
circular motion until a paste is formed. Add the almonds and
pound and grind the mixture until the nuts are broken down and
incorporated.
2. Add the sun-dried tomatoes and basil and continue to grind to
combine. Gradually add the oil and pecorino Romano, grinding
until well combined and creamy.
the pesto. Toss until coated, adding a little cooking water to
Romano to taste.
consistency.
Tagliatelle with porcini & black truffle
TAGLIATELLE AL PORCINI E TARTUFO NERO
serves 6
This recipe celebrates two of northern and central Italy’s most prized
ingredients: the porcini mushroom and the black truffle. Both of these
specimens are unearthed with great difficulty yet promise great
rewards, particularly when brought together, as here. While the
sprouting of funghi porcini tends not to coincide with Italy’s summer
truffle season, both ingredients are available year-round in preserved
forms. Dried porcini mushrooms, for example, are fantastic, and we’re
very happy to source preserved truffles from our friends at Truffle
Hunter, whose online shop is to die for. Both ingredients are
wonderful, earthy and bring a touch of indulgence to any table they’re
served at.

500g porcini mushrooms, cleaned and sliced
15g fresh parsley, finely chopped, plus extra to serve
750g tagliatelle
70ml vegetable broth
Salt, to taste
25–30g black truffle, shaved
1. Place the olive oil in a pan over a medium heat. Add the
mushrooms, garlic and parsley and sauté for 3 to 5 minutes, until
the mushrooms are slightly softened.
2. Place half the mushrooms in a food processor and purée until
creamy. Return this purée to the pan containing the rest of the
mushrooms.
4. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and add to the pan with the
mushroom sauce. Dilute with a couple of tablespoons of
vegetable broth and continue to cook for a couple of minutes
over a low heat.
5. Toss the mixture until well combined. If necessary, add a couple
more tablespoons of broth to loosen the mixture. Add the parsley
and shaved truffle, then plate and serve immediately.
Rigatoni with tuna
RIGATONI AL TONNO
serves 2
In the UK, canned tuna has a bit of a bad reputation. Finn remembers
being packed off to school with tuna mayonnaise sandwiches, while
the memory of tuna vol-au-vents at 1970s’ dinner parties remains
inescapable for many. Italians, however, have no such qualms about
tinned tuna, perhaps precisely because tuna mayonnaise was never
a hit in Italy. Instead, tuna (tonno in Italian) is widely enjoyed across
the country, with both its fresh and tinned varieties equally respected.
This is particularly true in Sicily, where the historical mattanza, the
island’s annual massacre of tuna (which has fortunately ceased), has
left a legacy of the fish being a staple of the Sicilian diet.
Don’t be tempted to use tuna in spring water, or even brine, in this
recipe, as the fish is invariably bone dry. If you can, opt instead for a
high-quality tuna from sustainable sources in oil.

1 small red onion, finely chopped
25g capers, rinsed
35g Taggiasche olives, pitted and roughly chopped
220g quality tuna in oil
15g fresh parsley, finely chopped, plus extra to serve
700g fresh yellow tomatoes, washed and roughly chopped
500g rigatoni
1 tsp chilli oil, to serve (optional)
1. Heat the oil in a frying pan and cook the onion for 4 minutes until
golden. Add the capers, olives and tuna and cook for 2 minutes,
then stir in the parsley.
2. Add the chopped tomatoes, season with salt and pepper and let
simmer for 10–15 minutes until thick and glossy.
cooking water, then drain the pasta and add to the sauce. Toss to
coat, adding a splash of cooking water if needed to ensure the
sauce coats the pasta fully.
5. Plate and serve immediately, finished with a drizzle of chilli oil, if
desired.
Tagliatelle with ham & leek
TAGLIATELLE SPECK E PORRO

serves 6
As Finn and Roberta have both spent time living in Austria, they have
an affinity for some of the cuisine enjoyed in the Alps, along the
border between Austria and Italy. From Schlutzkrapfen, a German-
named variety of filled pasta, to Spätzle, a sort of Germanic gnocchi,
the foods originating in the bitterly cold region of South Tyrol, split
between the two countries, tend to be hearty and warming. Speck is
our favourite. While Speck is the German word for ‘bacon’, on the
Italian side of the border it also denotes a specific type of prosciutto
that, under European law, can only be produced in South Tyrol. It has
an unmistakable smoky flavour that we find utterly wonderful. If you
can find it, great. If not, prosciutto di Parma, equally wonderful, albeit
in other ways, will work just as well.
50g unsalted butter

1 large leek, cleaned and sliced
1 vegetable stock cube
750g tagliatelle
150g speck, cubed
1. Melt the butter in a frying pan, then add the leeks and 2
tablespoons of the olive oil and sweat the leeks for 5 minutes
until softened.
2. Crumble the vegetable stock cube into the pan, add a splash of
water and cook for about 15 minutes, until the leeks are
completely soft, adding more water as needed.
3. Transfer the leeks to a food processor and purée until creamy.
4. In a separate pan, fry the speck in the remaining oil for 2–3
minutes over a medium-high heat until crispy.
cooking water, then drain the pasta and add to the pan with the
speck, along with the leek sauce. Toss to coat, adding a splash
of cooking water if necessary, to ensure the sauce completely
coats the pasta.
7. Plate and serve immediately with freshly grated Parmesan and a
drizzle of olive oil to taste.
Spaghetti with black olive pesto
SPAGHETTI CON PESTO DI OLIVE NERE
serves 6
Many people – Finn included – say they prefer green olives, or even
a life without olives. Yet they love this recipe when they taste it. We
appreciate that it requires a leap of faith, particularly as the darkness
of the pesto lacks beauty. But stay with us here.
For starters, although this recipe seems far-removed from the
familiar pesto alla Genovese (see here), this is actually not so. In fact,
the Taggiasche olives that Roberta likes here are the same olives
used in Liguria – home of pesto – to produce Ligurian extra virgin
olive oil. In turn, this oil – at least within the region – is used to
prepare the famous basil pesto. The Taggiasche variety of olive also
has a less acidic, sweeter character than other black olives, which
makes for a gentler pesto than you might imagine. If you can, give it a
go – you might just be converted to the dark side.

70g Taggiasche olives, pitted and roughly chopped
750g spaghetti
1. Put the basil and almonds in a food processor and give them a
quick blitz. Add the olives and blitz until a rough texture is
achieved.
2. Add half the olive oil to the food processor with the pecorino
Romano and blitz again.
3. Finally, drizzle in the remaining oil and blitz until you reach the
desired consistency. You may require slightly more oil. Avoid
overblending, however, as a rustic texture is preferred.
cooking water, then drain the pasta and return it to the pan. Stir
through the pesto, adding a splash of the reserved cooking
water, if necessary, to ensure the pesto completely coats the
pasta.
6. Plate and serve immediately with a drizzle of olive oil and freshly
grated pecorino Romano to taste.
It takes minimal effort, and just a little time, to coax an astonishing
level of flavour from some of the core ingredients of the Italian
pantry. Half an hour seems a short period when held up against
many people’s commutes, or hours spent gazing at the screens of
our smartphones. But it provides ample opportunity to brown morsels
of fennel sausage meat or create tiny polpettine (miniature
meatballs) in the palm of your hand. Chubby cubes of aubergine can
be roasted, taking on an earthy flavour, or Roberta’s beloved cime di
rapa (turnip tops) boiled down into their bitter submission. In this
way, affording yourself an extra 10 or 20 minutes to prepare a dish
than you might otherwise can open many doors, for this small
amount of additional time allows new ingredients and flavours to
enter the fold.
It isn’t all about flavour, though. As we have already seen, some of
the most flavoursome dishes can indeed be prepared in a matter of
minutes. To create certain textures – an equally important dimension
in cooking – can take a little longer. Turning a high heat down to a
low simmer allows us to revel in the creamy texture of lentils, for
example, as they are given the opportunity to truly relax into a sauce.
A bit of extra time will also allow the opportunity to fry certain
ingredients, like the courgettes in our Spaghetti from Nerano (see
here) with its origins in the sunny Sorrento peninsula.
With the addition of fresh herbs for aromatic depth, spices for
warmth and capers or anchovies for a salty kick, the possibilities are
endless – but many of these ingredients beg to be given a little
longer to impart their flavour profiles. In this section, we are happy to
oblige, not least because setting aside 30 minutes can be a wholly
uplifting experience, particularly after a long day at work, when a bit
of light chopping and quiet simmering in a fairy-lit kitchen is, at least
for us, a cathartic release. Pour yourself a glass of wine and breathe,
inhaling the aromas along the way.
Spaghetti with mini meatballs
SPAGHETTI CON POLPETTINE DI CARNE

serves 4
While spaghetti with meatballs is often deemed to be of American

extraction, this isn’t entirely the case. In fact, nonne across Italy are
widely known to prepare polpettine, particularly for their
grandchildren’s pleasure. Polpettine are dinky meatballs. They are
quite different from their oversized American counterparts, and the
small hands of children are particularly deft at forming these, so if you
have access to child labour, this resource comes heartily
recommended. We promise they’ll enjoy themselves too.
500g beef mince

1 medium egg
60ml whole milk
15–20g fresh parsley, finely chopped
70g breadcrumbs
½ carrot, finely chopped
100ml good red wine
600g tomato passata
500g spaghetti
Salt, to taste
1. Put the beef mince, egg, Parmesan, milk, chopped parsley and a
pinch of salt into a large bowl, and knead well with a fork until
you have a homogeneous mixture. Gradually add the
breadcrumbs, continuing to knead until well incorporated.
2. Form the meatballs by rolling small amounts of the mixture
between your hands – aim for around 18–20 meatballs in total.
Place the meatballs on a parchment-lined tray.
3. Heat the oil in a large saucepan over a medium heat. Add the
onion and carrot and fry for 3–4 minutes until they start to soften,
stirring continuously.
4. Gradually add the meatballs, cooking for a few minutes until they
are browned on all sides. Add the red wine and cook for 3
minutes, then add the passata and 50ml water. Stir until well
mixed, cover with a lid and simmer for 25 minutes, stirring
occasionally.
5. While the sauce is cooking, bring a pot of generously salted
water to the boil. Cook the pasta until al dente, following the
packet instructions.
cooking water, then drain the pasta.
7. When the sauce is ready, add the pasta, tossing until well
combined. If necessary, add a little of the cooking water to
loosen the sauce.
taste.
Gnocchi with asparagus sauce
GNOCCHI CON SALSA DI ASPARAGI
serves 6
We have several friends from Sardinia and so visit the island a couple
of times a year. When you get out of Cagliari and into the countryside,
you’ll find some of the healthiest – and happiest – people in the world.
Sardinia is one of five ‘Blue Zones’, where some of the longest-living
populations of our planet can be found. Our guess is that the
abundance of fresh vegetables available on the island has something
to do with it.
Asparagus, in particular, has grown in the wild there for hundreds
of years, delighting the islanders anew when it comes into season
each spring. Caution must be taken, though: the asparagus plant is
prickly and puts up a good fight. We find the duel with nature to be
worth it, as the freshness and flavour of Sardinia’s wild asparagus is
incomparable. Having said that, we made this sauce with standard
farmed asparagus when we got back to London and it was more than
delightful. You needn’t serve it with gnocchi, either, if you aren’t a fan;
pasta is just as good a pairing here.
450g asparagus spears, washed

30g unsalted butter
1 shallot, finely chopped
250ml double cream
500g gnocchi
Salt and white pepper, to taste
1. Cut the tips off the asparagus spears and chop the remaining
stems into bite-sized pieces. Finely slice the tips and set aside
for later, as these will be your garnish.
2. Melt the butter in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Add the
shallot and gently fry for 2 minutes until translucent. Add the
chopped asparagus stems and cook for a further 3 minutes.
3. Add a pinch of salt and freshly ground white pepper, then
sprinkle with a splash of water. Cover the pan and continue to
cook over a medium heat for around 20 minutes, stirring
occasionally.
4. Add the cream and continue to cook, stirring continuously with a
wooden spoon. Allow the mixture to reduce until you are left with
a thick, creamy sauce.
5. While the sauce finishes cooking, bring a pot of generously
salted water to the boil and cook the gnocchi, following the
packet instructions. Transfer the cooked gnocchi to the
asparagus cream sauce and toss well to coat.
6. Plate and serve immediately, garnished with the finely sliced
asparagus tips.
Rigatoni with Sicily’s fennel sausage
RIGATONI CON SALSICCIA E FINOCCHIETTO

serves 6
We know that fennel is divisive. But please have faith, for this dish will
reward it handsomely. Fennel is sublime with sausage and an
eminently Sicilian ingredient. In fact, the herb flourishes
spontaneously across the island, but particularly in and around the
mountains, resulting in it being known as finocchio di montagna, or
mountain fennel. You’ll know you’ve arrived in Sicily when you detect
its anise-like fragrance in the warm island air.
The herb and (importantly) its seeds are harvested by the islanders
during spring and the early days of summer. While the fresh fronds of
wild fennel must be used within a matter of days before they perish,
the seeds are dried in the abundant Sicilian sunshine and can be
used throughout the year. In this recipe, we celebrate fennel in both
forms. Sicilians love to eat fennel with Italian sausage as, in a similar
way to sage, the herb has a fantastic ability to accentuate the savoury
flavour of the sausage meat. For a similar sauce from the
neighbouring island of Sardinia (but rosso, made with tomatoes), see
Malloreddus with Sausage Ragù from Sardinia (see here).
2 tbsp olive oil

900g Italian sausage meat (ideally infused with fennel)
1 large brown or white onion, finely chopped
120g fennel with tops, chopped
1 tsp fennel seeds, roughly ground
1 fresh red chilli, finely chopped
80ml white wine
100ml chicken stock
750g rigatoni
400ml single cream
1. Heat the olive oil in a large pan over a medium heat. Add the
sausage meat, using a fork or wooden spatula to break the meat
into small pieces, and fry for around 10 minutes, until the
sausage is nicely browned.
2. Add the onion, fennel (not the fennel tops), fennel seeds, chilli
and garlic, and fry for a further 15 minutes.
3. Add the wine, allowing the mixture to cook until the alcohol
evaporates. Then pour in the stock, season with salt and pepper,
cover the pan with a lid and simmer gently for 30 minutes.
4. After 30 minutes, stir the cream and fennel tops into the sauce.
cooking water, then drain the pasta. Add the pasta to the sauce,
tossing until well combined, and adding a drop of the cooking
water to loosen the sauce, if needed.
7. Plate and serve immediately, finishing the dish with more freshly
cracked black pepper.
Orecchiette with roasted pepper
sauce
ORECCHIETTE CON SALSA DI PEPERONI

ARROSTITI
serves 4
For us, this recipe is emblematic of Italy’s approach to cooking.

Where the recipes of some cuisines around the world prescribe long
lists of ingredients, some of them esoteric and a real challenge to
find, many Italian dishes have scarcely more than a handful of
ingredients – and seem so much better for it. This sauce is a case in
point and requires just five ingredients.
One drawback of Italy’s stripped-back approach, though, is that
there is often no place to hide, and a dish can live or die based on the
quality of the underlying ingredients. When picking your peppers and
tomatoes, bear this in mind and take care to choose the best
specimens you can find. The San Marzano tomato, which grows in
the volcanic soils of Mount Vesuvius, is fantastic here, and is
becoming increasingly easy to find in the UK nowadays, and certainly
online. They have lots of sweet, thick flesh and relatively few seeds,
making them perfect for use in sauces featuring tomatoes.
3 red peppers
500g tomatoes, (ideally the San Marzano variety)
500g orecchiette
15g fresh basil leaves, finely shredded
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1. Preheat your oven to 200°C. Halve the red peppers, removing

the core and seeds, before placing on a roasting tray and
drizzling with a tablespoon of olive oil. Season with salt and
pepper and place in the oven for around 20 minutes, or until
softened and slightly charred.
2. While the peppers are roasting, heat the remaining oil in a large
saucepan over a medium-high heat. Add the tomatoes to the pan
with 2 teaspoons of salt and fry gently until the peppers have
finished cooking.
3. At the same time, bring a pot of generously salted water to the
instructions. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and set aside.
4. Remove the peppers from the oven and leave them to cool for a
couple of minutes. Once cool enough to handle, remove as much
of the skin as possible and discard. Roughly chop the remaining
flesh and add to the pan of tomatoes with freshly grated black
pepper to season. Crush the mixture gently using a potato
masher or wooden spoon.
5. Once the sauce appears thick and shiny, add the pasta to the
sauce and stir to combine. Remove from the heat and add the
fresh basil, then serve immediately.
Seafood spaghetti
SPAGHETTI AL FRUTTI DI MARE

serves 4
The Italian term frutti di mare (‘seafood’ or ‘fruits of the sea’) seems to
encapsulate how Italians feel about seafood. It’s something special: a
treasure bestowed by the oceans on the people walking the land.
This reverence has been seen on the Italian peninsula for millennia,
since the days of Ancient Rome, where nobles are said to have
feasted on lobster, octopus, clams, mussels, and more. With one of
the world’s longest coastlines, this voracious appetite for seafood
lives on in modern Italy, just as it does in our homes in the UK.
This is Roberta’s favourite seafood recipe, bringing together an
assortment of her favourite frutti di mare. Whenever we prepare this,
with fresh, tentacled squid and beautiful mussels in their purple-
veined shells, we can’t help but feel like we’re reconnecting with our
primeval ancestors.
400g clams, soaked in plenty of water for 1 hour

700g mussels in shells, rinsed and de-bearded
1 fresh red chilli, cut in half
300g squid, cut into 1cm thick rings
175ml white wine
60g cherry tomatoes, halved
500g spaghetti
400g shell-on raw king prawns
15g fresh parsley, chopped roughly
Salt, to taste
1. Place a pan with a lid over a medium-high heat. Once hot, add
the clams and mussels along with 2 tablespoons of water. Put
the lid on the pan and cook for 4 minutes.
2. Once cooked, strain the flavoursome cooking liquid through a tea
strainer or muslin cloth and set aside. Put the pan with the clams
and mussels to one side too. Discard any mussels that haven’t
opened.
3. Set a separate frying pan over a medium-high heat and warm the
oil. Once hot, add the garlic clove and chilli and allow them to
infuse the oil for a minute or two until fragrant. Remove the garlic
and chilli from the pan and discard.
4. Add the squid to the pan and cook for 3–4 minutes, then add the
white wine and the liquid set aside from cooking the clams and
mussels. Cook over a low heat for 10 minutes, adding the cherry
tomatoes and salt a minute or two before the end of the cooking
time.
6. After cooking the squid and tomatoes for 10 minutes, add the
prawns, mussels and clams and cook for a further 4 minutes until
the prawns change colour.
7. Drain the spaghetti and add to the pan with the seafood. Sprinkle
over the fresh parsley and serve immediately.
Pappardelle with white ragù
PAPPARDELLE AL RAGÙ BIANCO

serves 4
Roberta first ate ragù bianco, literally ‘white ragù’, on a trip to

Tuscany many years ago. Although similar versions exist in the south,
these always include tomatoes – a red, or rosso, ragù. In Tuscany,
white ragù is most often – and traditionally – served with pici, which
resembles thick, oversized spaghetti and is made from merely flour
and water. Any long pasta shape – spaghetti or tagliatelle, for
example – is fantastic here though. Roberta particularly likes
pappardelle, which does a fantastic job of sopping up this sauce.
Traditionally, only beef is used to prepare a ragù bianco. Some
variations call for pork to be added, and others even chicken, which is
rarely found in traditional pasta dishes. In any case, for sheer flavour,
if not tradition, Roberta likes to add a bit of Italian sausage when
preparing this dish at home in the UK. It’s a favourite of ours on a
dark winter evening, made with love to warm the cockles of your
heart.

1 celery stick, finely chopped
1 carrot, finely chopped
450g beef mince
150g Italian sausage meat (ideally infused with fennel), crumbled
1 tbsp cornflour
100ml white wine
400ml beef broth
2 bay leaves
750g pappardelle
Parmesan, to serve
Chilli oil, to serve
1. Heat 3 tablespoons of oil in a saucepan and fry the onion, celery

and carrot for about 1 minute. Add the beef mince and sausage,
using a fork or wooden spatula to break the sausage meat into
small pieces, and cook for a few minutes until lightly browned.
Add the cornflour and stir through.
2. Increase the heat to high and continue to cook, stirring often.
Gradually add the white wine, letting it evaporate before adding
the beef broth and bay leaves. Once the sauce is boiling, reduce
the heat to low, cover the pot with a lid and leave to simmer for at
least 20 minutes. The white ragù should have thickened and
reached a creamy consistency. Season with salt and pepper to
taste and add the remaining tablespoon of olive oil.
packet instructions. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and add to
the ragù, stirring over a low heat for a couple of minutes.
4. Plate and serve immediately with freshly grated Parmesan and
chilli oil to taste.
Baked rigatoni from Trani
RIGATONI AL FORNO ALLA TRANESE
serves 6
Some 40 kilometres along the coast from Bari, the regional capital of
Puglia, you’ll find the white-washed seaport of Trani. Roberta, who
comes from the region, has happy memories of visiting the town as a
little girl, and has returned many times since. Along with the
neighbouring communities of Andria and Barletta, Trani is often called
the ‘Pearl of the Adriatic’ in appreciation of its architecture. You’ll find
a mélange of Romanesque, Norman and Byzantine influences here,
owing to the subjugation of Puglia by many different masters from
foreign kingdoms.
Although Trani’s buildings are beautiful indeed, Roberta gets far
more excited about the dish this port town gives its name to. Pasta al
forno alla tranese, now a staple of Apulian cuisine more widely, is one
of her favourite recipes. Stracciatella di bufala, a fresh cheese from
the region, is traditional here, but you can substitute mozzarella di
bufala with confidence should you struggle to find it. Burrata, whose
oozing core is in any case made up of stracciatella, would also be a
good choice.
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, plus extra to drizzle

1 brown or white onion, finely chopped
800g tomato passata
400g cherry tomatoes, quartered
750g rigatoni
200g stracciatella
35g breadcrumbs
Salt, to taste
1. Preheat the oven to 180ºC.

2. Heat the oil in a pan over a medium heat, then add the onion and
cook for around 5 minutes. Pour in the passata and cook for
another 10 minutes.
3. In a bowl, mix the tomatoes with the basil, garlic and salt to taste.
Set aside.
for half the time instructed on the packet, as it will cook further in
the oven. Drain the pasta and add to the pan of sauce.
5. Add half the tomato mixture to the pan with 100g of the pecorino
Romano and mix thoroughly.
6. Pour half of the rigatoni into a 30cm square baking dish or
lasagne dish and top with the stracciatella. Cover with the
remaining pasta, then add the remaining tomato mixture and
pecorino Romano, and the breadcrumbs. Finish with a drizzle of
extra virgin olive oil.
7. Bake in the oven for 10 minutes, until the tomatoes and cheese
are nicely browned and the pasta is cooked. Plate and serve
immediately.
Black sea spaghetti
SPAGHETTI AL NERO DI SEPPIA

serves 6
In this edible melodrama, nero di seppia is the protagonist. Literally

‘black of the cuttlefish’, it is the obsidian-coloured ink produced
beneath the waves by this mysterious mollusc. We love cooking with
it, and not merely because it plunges all that it touches into theatrical
darkness.
As is understood well by the chefs of Venice, where risotto al nero
di seppia is widely enjoyed, cuttlefish ink also imparts a subtle flavour
in its own right. This flavour, we can reassure you, is neither strong
nor overpowering, as the ink’s enveloping blackness might suggest.
Instead, it’s more of a salty flavour: a taste of brine. For us, it’s a
lingering whisper of the ocean the cuttlefish came from, spiriting us
away to the Venetian seaside.
500g cuttlefish, ink sacs included

1 shallot, finely sliced
100ml white wine
1 tsp tomato paste
750g spaghetti
Handful of fresh parsley, finely chopped, to serve
Salt, to taste
1. Remove the skin from the cuttlefish, reserving the ink sacs for
later use. Alternatively, ask your fishmonger for prepared
cuttlefish, but be sure to ask for ink sacs as well. Rinse the
cuttlefish several times under cold running water. Separate the
tentacles from the ink sacs before cutting the body of the
cuttlefish into 1cm strips. Freeze the tentacles for the next time
you make calamari.
2. Heat the oil in a pot over a medium heat and add the shallot and
garlic clove. Fry for a couple of minutes, then add the cuttlefish
and white wine and increase the heat until the alcohol
evaporates, then lower the heat and cook the cuttlefish for about
10 minutes.
3. In a small bowl, combine the tomato paste with a ladleful of hot
water and a small pinch of salt. Remove and discard the garlic
from the cuttlefish pan, and add the dissolved tomato paste and
chilli. Continue cooking for 10–15 minutes over a low heat.
5. Complete the sauce by adding the black cuttlefish ink. Use a pair
of scissors to pierce the ink sac, decanting the contents directly
into the sauce. Stir and cook for 3 minutes – you are aiming for a
thick sauce with a deep, black colour.
6. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and add to the sauce. Plate, top
with the parsley and serve immediately.
Tagliatelle with sea bass
TAGLIATELLE AL BRANZINO
serves 4
The region of Tuscany is best known for its rich, meat-based ragù
dishes, notably Wild Boar Ragù (see here). Less well known, but no
less fantastic, are the dishes of its coastline and lagoons. In the
municipalities of Monte Argentario and Ortebello, squished into the
far southern corner of Tuscany along the Tyrrhenian Sea, it’s more
common to find spigola, or sea bass, on restaurant menus than
Tuscany’s iconic wild boar. This is because the lagoon of Ortebello,
eponymous with the pretty settlement on its shores, is replete with the
fish. The munificent waters sustain and delight the locals in equal
measure, and have done for thousands of years.

300g cherry tomatoes, diced
100ml dry white wine
800g sea bass fillets, skin removed and flesh roughly chopped
15–20g fresh parsley, finely chopped, plus extra to serve
500g tagliatelle
1. Place the oil in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Once hot,
add the garlic and the chilli and fry for a couple of minutes until
golden and fragrant. Remove the garlic and chilli from the pan
and discard.
2. Add the tomatoes to the oil and cook for around 5 minutes.
3. Deglaze the pan with the white wine, and once the alcohol has
evaporated completely, add the sea bass chunks and parsley.
Continue cooking for 5–10 minutes until the fish is completely
white, stirring continuously so the delicate fish doesn’t stick to the
pan.
cooking water, then drain the pasta and add to the sauce. Toss
until the pasta is completely coated, adding a little of the cooking
6. Plate and serve immediately, garnished with extra parsley.
Orecchiette with broccoli & chilli pesto
ORECCHIETTE AL PESTO DI BROCCOLI E

PEPERONCINO
serves 4
This is one of those dishes we love to eat when, after a few too many
glasses of Prosecco the night before, the body cries out for green
invigoration. Broccoli, which was first cultivated on the Italian
peninsula more than two millennia ago, is a staple of the
Mediterranean diet and is distinguished by its long list of health-giving
minerals and vitamins, particularly vitamins C and D. Where possible,
always steam (or even microwave) broccoli, as boiling the vegetable
diminishes its beneficial properties.
Having said all that, we should emphasise that, though incredibly
good for you, we eat this because it is a delicious pick-me-up, not
because it is a ‘health food’. The chilli in this recipe does not make
the pesto hot, per se; it merely adds a kick which is sometimes just
what the doctor ordered. For an entirely plant-based version, simply
leave out the pecorino, but do add extra salt to compensate.
600g broccoli
35g pine nuts
1 fresh red chilli, seeds removed and roughly chopped
500g orecchiette
1. Cut the hard stalk off the broccoli, discard, and separate the
florets into individual pieces. Steam the broccoli for around 7
minutes, then transfer immediately to a bowl of iced water,
preventing further cooking and preserving its green colour.
2. Drain the broccoli and dry well with kitchen paper. Place in a food
processor with the basil, pecorino Romano, almonds, pine nuts,
chilli and salt. Gradually drizzle the oil into the mixture, pulsing
between each addition until a rugged sauce is formed.
cooking water, then drain the pasta.
5. Return it to the pan, along with the broccoli pesto, and toss until
the pasta is completely coated, adding a splash of the cooking
water to loosen the pesto, if needed.
Romano to taste.
Rigatoni with Genovese sauce
RIGATONE CON RAGÙ GENOVESE

serves 4
Quite bizarrely, pasta served with ‘Genovese’ sauce comes not from
the port of Genoa, but from Naples, some several hundred kilometres
south. It’s said the sauce takes its name from Genovese sailors, who,
hailing from the Republic of Genoa, would dock in the port of Naples.
To this day, this fact remains a source of bemusement not just for
tourists to the region but also Italians, many of whom assume the
sauce must, given its name, come from Genoa.
Like many sauces from the Italian repertoire, ragù Genovese
begins with a simple soffritto of celery, carrot and onion. What
distinguishes ragù Genovese, however, is its disproportionate use of
onion in the soffritto. As the vast quotient of onion caramelises, it
lends a slight sweetness to the ragù that Neapolitans adore.
700g brown or white onions, finely chopped (you may wish to do this in a food processor
given the volume)
1 tsp white wine vinegar
6 tbsp olive oil
1 celery stick, julienned
1 carrot, julienned
600g beef mince
100ml white wine
2 bay leaves
500g rigatoni
1. Soak the chopped onions for 10 minutes in salted water with the
white wine vinegar.
2. While the onions soak, heat the oil in a pan over a medium heat.
Add the celery and carrot and sauté for 3–4 minutes until
softened, then add the beef mince and cook for 3–4 minutes until
browned.
3. Deglaze the pan with the white wine, and when the alcohol has
cooked off, add the marinated onions and bay leaves. Simmer
over a low heat for about 15 minutes, before tasting and
seasoning with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Remove
the bay leaves.
instructions. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and add to the pan
with the ragù, tossing to combine.
taste.
Orecchiette with aubergine pesto
ORECCHIETTE AL PESTO DI MELANZANE
serves 6
We are obliged to forewarn you that this pesto will win no beauty
awards. Those who have prepared baba ganoush, a Middle Eastern
mezze made in a similar way to this pesto, will testify that the flesh of
roasted aubergines has a sort of cadaverous property, slimy and
pallid-looking. Luckily, it tastes fantastic, particularly when it’s allowed
to blacken a little, taking on lots of smoky flavour. So do not be
disheartened when preparing this pesto di melanzane if it looks less
than inviting: the flavour of the end result will, we promise, redeem all
its ugly sin.
2 aubergines, halved
150ml extra virgin olive oil, plus extra to drizzle
100g pistachios or blanched almonds, plus a few crushed nuts to serve
7–8 fresh basil leaves
70g Parmesan, or vegetarian alternative, grated
750g orecchiette
Sea salt flakes, to taste
1. Preheat the oven to 180°C. Place the aubergines on a baking

tray, then sprinkle with sea salt flakes and drizzle with extra virgin
olive oil. Bake for 20–25 minutes, or until soft.
2. Let the aubergine halves cool slightly before scooping out the
pulp, removing any big clumps of seeds in the process.
3. Meanwhile, toast the pistachios or almonds in a dry frying pan
until fragrant, taking care not to burn them.
4. Place the pulp of the aubergine in a food processor with the olive
oil, basil, cheese and pistachios or almonds and blend until the
mixture is creamy. Taste for seasoning, adding more salt as
required.
al dente, drain and return to the pot with the pesto, tossing to
combine.
6. Plate and serve immediately, topped with a dusting of pistachio
or almond crumbs.
THE POETRY OF PASTA
and the sun beats down on the foothills of

AS MIDDAY APPROACHES IN SICILY
Mount Etna, a wagon with broad wheels bumps along the dusty road.
Its precious cargo of vegetables and bottles of deep red wine sway
with the motion of the road. The wagon’s driver sips from a flagon of
water, mopping his brow. His journey is only partly complete, but he’s
famished after an early start and pulls into a local taverna for lunch.
He’s a man of simple tastes but a large appetite, and he orders a
generous plate of spaghetti alla carrettiera (sometimes referred to as
‘wanderer’s’ or ‘wagoner’s pasta’) – olive oil flavoured with garlic,
capers, sun-dried tomatoes and parsley, with a shower of crunchy,
toasted breadcrumbs on top. It is peasant food of the most delicious
and satisfying kind.
You see, it isn’t just the pasta shapes in Italy that have wonderfully
storied names. The titles of myriad sauces and ragùs serve to not
only highlight their star ingredients (crema al Gorgonzola; aglio, olio e
peperoncino; salsa di asparagi) or regions of origin (Bolognese,
Amatriciana, Genovese), they sometimes hint of hidden depths and
spicy backstories. Arrabbiata, for example, means ‘angry’ – an
evocative name for a fiery red sauce flavoured heavily with garlic and
fresh red chilli. And the Sicilian carrettiere is not the only tradesman
with a signature dish named after him. Pasta alla boscaiola,
‘woodsman’s pasta’, takes its name from the forests of Italy where
mushrooms sprout abundantly. Spicy cured sausage also belongs
here, with the dish whipped up in Tuscan kitchens after a long day of
lumberjacking.
Pasta alla boscaiola, ‘wooddsman’s pasta’, takes its name from the
forests of Italy where mushrooms sprout abundantly.
The true origin of the ubiquitous pasta alla carbonara, meanwhile,

has long been disputed, although the dish itself was likely the result
of a surfeit of eggs and bacon brought to Rome by American troops
following the Second World War. The name, however, derived from
carbonaro, or ‘charcoal burner’, married with the simple smoky
flavour of the velvety sauce studded with pancetta, lends the dish a
certain working man’s mystique. Down the mines during the day,
taking comfort in carbonara when arriving home in the evening.
Unsurprisingly perhaps, the impact of the American presence in Italy

in the 1940s and 50s wasn’t limited to such family-friendly dishes.
Pasta alla puttanesca, the tomato sauce made punchy with capers,
olives, anchovies and chillies, was born around the same time.
Puttana translates to ‘lady of the night’. In those difficult days after the
war, and especially in Naples where this dish originates, some of the
women of Italy were forced to make ends meet however they could.
Quite how this pasta sauce came into it remains a mystery – some
say it was a quick snack whipped up by those ladies between clients,
others (with a twinkle in their eye) say it has something to do with the
powerful and spicy aromas in the dish. In any event, the word is
almost onomatopoeic – you can just imagine a working girl, short
skirt, thick make-up, hint of garlic on her breath, posing in the light of
a street lamp in Naples, full of sarcasm and sass, whispering a salty
come hither …
Puttana translates to ‘lady of the night’.

Orecchiette with beans & mussels
ORECCHIETTE CON FAGIOLI E COZZE

serves 4
La cucina povera, best understood in English as ‘the poor man’s

kitchen’, is an approach to cooking from the Italian south. It
emphasises the use of simple, affordable ingredients, and became
established in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, when the
south of Italy largely remained agrarian and impoverished. The
industrialising northern metropolises, Milan or Turin for example, were
all but unrecognisable to the southern citizens of the new Italian
Republic, born only in 1861. Driven by destitution, millions of Italians
from the south emigrated in search of a better life in the United
States.
To this day in Italy, a gulf exists between north and south, not
merely in economic terms but also along religious and cultural lines.
The division is most striking in gastronomy, with pronounced regional
preferences. Few Italians from the north, for example, could say they
grew up on pasta e fagioli, or pasta and beans. This simple recipe
remains a staple of the Italian south, and this version from Naples,
with mussels, is a variation, but is scarcely more opulent: mussels,
cozze in Italian, are among the most affordable seafood available.

1 garlic clove
1 brown or white onion, chopped
1 celery stick, chopped
1 carrot, chopped
80–100g cherry tomatoes
500g mussels, rinsed and de-bearded
460g tinned white beans, drained
750g orecchiette
15–20g fresh parsley, chopped
1. Place 2 tablespoons of oil in a large frying pan over a medium

heat. Once hot, add the garlic and the chilli and fry for a couple
of minutes until golden and fragrant. Remove the garlic and chilli
2. Add the onion, celery and carrot to the pan and fry until softened,
around 10 minutes. Add the tomatoes, then cover the pan with a
lid and cook for a further 5 minutes.
3. In a separate pot over a medium heat, pour in the mussels with
100ml of water (around half a cup). As soon as the mussels start
to open, remove them from the steaming liquid and set aside.
Discard any that haven’t opened. Strain the flavoursome cooking
liquid through a tea strainer or muslin cloth and set aside.
4. Add the beans and mussels to the vegetables with the strained
cooking liquid, and simmer for 4–5 minutes over a low heat.
6. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and add to the sauce, then
continue to cook for an additional 2 minutes. Add the parsley and
remaining olive oil and serve immediately.
Baked rigatoni from Messina
RIGATONI ‘NCASCIATA ALLA MESSINESE

serves 6
Imagine for a moment that you are around the table of a large Sicilian
family. It’s Sunday lunchtime, and all the relatives have gathered for
the occasion. After much noisy catching up, the donna della casa
emerges from the kitchen with a piping hot tray of pasta ‘ncasciata,
heralding the happy beginning of the family feast.
On the island, pasta ‘ncasciata is something of a generic term. In
the Sicilian language, ‘ncasciata simply means ‘encased’, in
reference to the way this pasta is heartily contained within one
sprawling tray for the whole family to feast upon. In this sense, there
are almost countless variations of pasta ‘ncasciata. In this version,
from the city of Messina in the island’s northeast, you’ll find all
manner of delicious things, but we most love the rustic, homely
inclusion of boiled eggs. We like to use eggs with lovely golden yolks,
as these seem to resemble the warm sunshine of Sicily overhead.

1 brown or white onion, diced
300g pork mince
300g beef mince
600g tomato passata
150ml vegetable oil
2 aubergines, sliced lengthways
750g rigatoni
200g provolone or mozzarella, diced
120g ‘nduja or sopressata sausage
4 eggs, hard-boiled, peeled and quartered (optional)
Pecorino Romano, grated, to taste
1. Preheat the oven to 200°C.

2. Heat the olive oil in a large saucepan over a gentle heat and fry
the onion for 4 minutes until softened.
3. Increase the heat and add the pork and beef mince and brown
evenly, stirring and scraping the bottom of the pan. After 3–4
minutes, once browned, add the passata and sea salt flakes,
cover with a lid and simmer for 10 minutes over a low heat,
stirring occasionally.
4. While the meat sauce simmers, add the vegetable oil to a
separate frying pan and place over a medium-high heat. Once
hot, fry the aubergines until golden brown, then remove from the
pan and transfer to kitchen paper to absorb any excess oil.
al dente, drain and place in a bowl, tossing through a couple of
spoonfuls of the ragù.
Spaghetti from Nerano
SPAGHETTI ALLA NERANO

serves 4
We love this recipe because of its ability to transport you to Italy.

Specifically, the sun-drenched Sorrento peninsula, where this dish
was invented in a beach village, Nerano, as recently as the 1950s.
There’s something emphatically Campanian about it: the provolone
cheese, which is the star of the dish, originates near Mount Vesuvius,
less than 50 kilometres away across the Bay of Naples. Nowadays,
it’s produced throughout Campania, and provolone del Monaco,
made on the Sorrento peninsula, is preferred by locals in this recipe
(but any provolone will be fantastic).
Courgettes, meanwhile, herald the arrival of summer in Campania;
it’s when they’re in season and markets abound with them in all
shapes and colours. These are most beautiful when they produce
their orange-coloured blossoms. On occasion, these are also added
to this sauce and look supremely pretty. And while it isn’t necessarily
traditional, Finn likes lemon zest in the sauce: it complements the
courgettes so very well and somehow adds even more sunshine to
the dish. This addition, though, is entirely discretionary.

700g courgettes, peeled and sliced into 2cm coins
500g spaghetti
200g provolone, grated
1 tbsp unsalted butter
Grated zest of 1 unwaxed lemon (optional)
1. Place the oil in a frying pan over a medium-high heat. Fry the
courgette slices in batches, removing the slices when they soften
and transferring them to kitchen paper to absorb the excess oil.
Continue this process until all the courgettes have been fried.
Take the pan off the heat but leave the remaining oil in the pan.
3. Return the frying pan with oil to the heat and add the garlic clove.
Gently brown the garlic clove for 2 minutes until the oil is
fragrant. Remove the garlic from the pan and discard.
4. Return the courgettes to the pan with the oil, sautéing for a
minute or two over a medium heat. Drain the spaghetti, reserving
a splash of the starchy pasta cooking water, and add the
spaghetti to the courgettes.
5. Remove the pan from the heat, then add the provolone, butter,
basil and lemon zest, if using. Stir the mixture until well
combined, adding as much of the reserved cooking water as
necessary to obtain a creamy sauce. Season with salt and black
pepper to taste and serve immediately.
Rigatoni with Sicily’s aubergine sauce
RIGATONI ALLA NORMA
serves 4
On the sun-drenched island of Sicily, aubergines are widely grown,

both commercially and in islanders’ gardens. Though melanzane, as
Italians call aubergines, are enjoyed throughout Italy, they’ve
particularly ensconced themselves in the gastronomic heart of Sicily.
Pasta alla norma hails from the island’s second city, Catania. It is said
that the dish is named after Norma, the opera by Vincenzo Bellini, in
reference to its comparable degree of beauty. Ricotta salata is worth
seeking out, not merely because it’s the traditional accompaniment,
but because it works so very well. It bears no resemblance to regular
soft ricotta, so don’t be tempted to substitute this; chunks of pecorino
Romano, or crumbled feta, would be better alternatives.
2 large aubergines
650g tinned tomatoes, peeled (ideally the San Marzano variety)
15–20g fresh basil leaves, finely shredded
300ml vegetable oil
500g rigatoni
Ricotta salata, to serve
1. Cut the aubergine into 1cm thick slices, place in a bowl and
sprinkle over 2 teaspoons of sea salt flakes. This will draw out
any excess moisture from the aubergines.
2. Heat the olive oil in a large saucepan over a medium heat and
add the garlic clove. Fry for a few minutes, until the oil is fragrant
and infused with the garlic flavour. Remove the garlic from the
pan and discard.
3. Add the tomatoes to the pan with a few basil leaves and the
remaining sea salt flakes. Cook for around 15 minutes, lightly
crushing the tomatoes as they soften to form a rough sauce.
4. Drain the aubergine and pat dry with kitchen paper. In a separate
frying pan, heat the vegetable oil and fry the aubergine in
batches. Once softened, remove the aubergine from the pan and
place on more kitchen paper to absorb any excess oil.
5. Set aside four slices of the fried aubergine as a garnish. Cut the
remaining slices into rough chunks before adding to the tomato
sauce. Reduce the heat and let the sauce simmer.
7. Once the pasta is al dente, reserve a splash of starchy pasta
until completely coated, adding a little of the reserved cooking
8. Plate and serve immediately, garnished with the slices of
aubergine and some crumbled ricotta salata.
Orecchiette with cime di rapa
ORECCHIETTE ALLE CIME DI RAPA

serves 4
This is one of Roberta’s best-loved recipes. Orecchiette is, of course,

her favourite pasta shape: the stuff she grew up on, and learned to
make by hand from her nonna Maria-Assunta. Cime di rapa was
equally focal in her upbringing. This green vegetable is eaten in
several parts of Italy, notably in Naples, where it is known as friarielli
and served on pizza with morsels of sausage. It has a bitter, pungent
flavour that you may love or loathe. This recipe is with anchovies and
overleaf with Italian sausage. You pick.
WITH ANCHOVIES
800g cime di rapa (or tenderstem broccoli, as an alternative)

100g breadcrumbs
3–4 anchovies in oil
500g orecchiette
1 fresh red chilli, finely chopped (optional)
Salt, to taste
1. Prepare your cime di rapa by removing and discarding the hard

stalks of the vegetable, reserving only the tender flowers and
leaves. Rinse these well under running water.
2. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil and cook the cime di rapa
for 10–15 minutes until soft and tender. Spear a piece with a fork
to check if it’s ready. Using a slotted spoon, remove the cime di
rapa from the pot. Do not discard the cooking water.
3. Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in a frying pan over a medium heat. Add
the breadcrumbs and toast for a few minutes, stirring to ensure
even browning. Set to one side. Wipe the pan dry.
4. Add the remaining oil to the pan, then fry the garlic gently for 2
minutes until fragrant. Add the anchovies, allowing them to melt
and separate in the hot oil. Remove any larger bones if
necessary. Add the cime di rapa to the garlic and anchovy
mixture.
5. Bring the pot with the cooking water back to the boil, then add
the pasta and cook until very al dente, removing from the heat 2
minutes or so before the packet instructions say.
6. While the pasta cooks, take a spoonful or two of the starchy
pasta cooking water and add this to the cime di rapa mixture.
Cook the mixture on high, stirring regularly until a glossy sauce is
formed.
7. Drain the pasta and add to the pan containing the cime di rapa.
Stir to combine and continue to cook for a further 5 minutes.
8. Taste and season with salt and fresh chilli. Serve immediately,
garnished with a scattering of toasted breadcrumbs.
WITH SAUSAGE
850g cime di rapa (or tenderstem broccoli, as an alternative)

1 whole dried red chilli
100ml dry white wine
500g orecchiette
Salt, to taste
Parmesan, or vegetarian alternative, grated, to serve
1. Prepare your cime di rapa by removing and discarding the hard

stalks of the vegetable, reserving only the tender flowers and
leaves. Rinse these well under running water.
2. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil and cook the cime di rapa
in the water for around 10–15 minutes, until soft and tender.
Spear a piece with a fork to check if it’s ready. Strain and set
aside to cool. Once cooled, roughly chop.
3. Place the oil in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Once hot,
add the garlic cloves and the dried chilli and fry for a couple of
minutes until the oil is well infused. Remove the garlic and chilli
4. Add the sausage meat to the pan, using a fork or wooden
spatula to break the meat into small pieces, and fry for 2
minutes until nicely browned. Add the white wine and allow the
alcohol to cook off before adding the chopped cime di rapa, then
sauté the mixture for a couple of minutes.
5. Bring a pot of generously salted water to the boil. Cook the
pasta until al dente, following the packet instructions.
cooking water, then drain the pasta. Add the pasta to the
sausage mixture, tossing until well combined, and adding a drop
of the cooking water to loosen the sauce, if needed.
taste.
Orecchiette with rocket and potatoes
ORECCHIETTE CON RUCOLA E PATATE
serves 6
This was the favourite dish of Roberta’s late nonna, Maria-Assunta,

and its inclusion in this book is a tribute to her. Wild rocket grows
spontaneously across Puglia. Familiar with the land through years of
working it, Maria-Assunta knew the best places to find rocket
growing. As a young girl, Roberta joined her in search of the herb in
the early mornings before the sun became too hot. The duo would
return to the farmhouse only once they had amassed a sprawling
basketful, which would then be used to prepare the dish we’re making
here in honour of the d’Elia family.
An emblem of poor cuisine in the north of Puglia, the rocket
provides a natural spiciness and flavour, while potatoes are
historically the nutritional mainstay of peasant cuisine here. Roberta
adores this recipe precisely because it is simple. It has no
pretensions. This was – remains – a peasant’s dish. For Roberta,
though, it just tastes of home.

450g fresh tomatoes, peeled and diced
4 medium-sized potatoes, peeled and diced
300g rocket
750g orecchiette
1. Heat the oil in a large saucepan over a medium heat and fry the
garlic for a minute or two until fragrant and golden, taking care
not to burn it.
2. Add the tomatoes to the pan and cook over a medium heat for 20
minutes.
3. While the tomato sauce is cooking, bring a large pot of
generously salted water to the boil. Submerge the chunks of
potato in the water for around 10 minutes until softened. Then
add the rocket and pasta, cooking for as long as the pasta
packet instructs.
4. When ready, drain the pasta, potato and rocket before returning
to the pot. Pour over the tomato sauce, add the red chilli and
toss together to combine. Plate and serve immediately.
Make your own
ZUPPA DI PASTA
Zuppa di pasta, simply ‘pasta soup’, is a staple across Italy. Like
many peasant foods, it’s somehow ensconced itself in the country’s
culinary tradition and now conjures up cosy feelings of warmth and
comfort. This is particularly so during winter, when Italians across the
country take great joy in preparing a pasta soup with scarcely any
ingredients. We’ve brought you three of our favourite regional
variations here. We hope they will sustain and warm you through the
cold winter nights, as they have done us on countless occasions.

Add 50g finely chopped white or brown onion and 50g finely
shredded carrot and cook for 3–4 minutes until softened.
Add the next batch of ingredients, as specified in the various
regional options.
Piedmont
Zuppa di ceci (chickpea pasta soup). Add 300g cooked chickpeas

and allow them to brown for a few minutes. Cover with 200ml hot
vegetable stock and add 60g tomato purée, 2 bay leaves and a
sprig of rosemary. Give the soup a good stir, season to taste and
cook for 5 minutes or so. Then add 500g dried pasta and cook until
al dente, following packet instructions.
Rigatoni with sausage & saffron
RIGATONI ALLA MONZESE

serves 6
In northern Lombardy, modestly south of Lake Como and the Alps,

you’ll find a historical region called Brianza. It’s an idyllic place, hilly
and green with lakes that have offered escapism to the people of
nearby Milan for centuries. Its fertile land has also supported all
manner of agriculture for generations, but pigs, reared extensively in
the region, are central to the story of Brianza.
In Monza – the largest settlement of Brianza – pig farming has
given rise to a strong predilection for sausage. The speciality
sausage of the city, la luganega di Monza, includes several distinctive
ingredients, from Grana Padano cheese to Marsala wine, imbuing the
sausage with a wonderful, unusual flavour. Monza’s eponymous
pasta alla Monzese celebrates these flavours, allowing them to infuse
the cream, with silky strands of saffron, added during cooking, giving
a golden lustre. While luganega di Monza is almost impossible to find
outside of Lombardy, let alone here in the UK, any good sausage
meat with a high pork content will work wonderfully. Children happen
to love this recipe too, so you can serve it with confidence whatever
the occasion.

200ml double cream
15g saffron
750g rigatoni
1. Fry the sausage meat in a pan over a medium-high heat for 4–5
minutes until cooked, using a fork or wooden spatula to break the
meat into small pieces.
2. Turn the heat down and add the cream and saffron. Continue
cooking for 5–7 minutes, then season with salt and black pepper
to taste.
al dente, drain and add to the sauce, tossing to combine.
taste.
Malloreddus with lentil ragù
MALLOREDDUS AL RAGÙ DI LENTICCHIE
serves 4
The Greek philosopher Diogenes, seen taking a modest meal of

lentils, was mocked by his sycophant peer Aristippus: ‘You needn’t
live on lentils if you would only learn to flatter the king.’ Diogenes,
with a twinkle in his eye (or so we imagine), responded, ‘If you would
only learn to live on lentils you needn’t flatter the king.’ Although
Diogenes lived some three centuries before the days of Ancient
Rome, his understanding of the humble lentil – as a sort of edible
emancipation, freeing the poor from supplication to higher powers –
was to prove prophetic.
Indeed, on the Italian peninsula, and particularly during the days of
Rome, lentils, or lenticchie in Italian, have sustained peasants for
millennia. They are now synonymous with good fortune and health in
modern Italy. In fact, lentils are traditionally enjoyed on New Year’s
Eve alongside cotechino sausage; the lentils, reminiscent of little
coins in shape, are said to augur well for the year ahead.
We like to cook and eat lentils year-round, and not merely as a
substitute or stand-in for meat, as they are often prescribed. In many
ways, this simple, homely ragù shows that they can be an altogether
more satisfying ingredient.

600g dried puy lentils, rinsed
70g cherry tomatoes, halved
Sprig of fresh thyme
750g malloreddus
Parmesan, or vegetarian alternative, grated, to serve
1. Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a saucepan and sweat the celery,

carrot, garlic and onion for 3–4 minutes over a medium heat until
soft and translucent. Add the finely chopped chilli and cook for a
further minute or so.
2. Add the lentils, stirring well, then add the cherry tomatoes with a
pinch of salt and pepper. Add enough water to cover the mixture
and simmer over a low heat until the lentils are soft (around 10–
12 minutes).
3. Stir often, adding more water if necessary. Once the lentils are
soft and have absorbed the water, season again with salt and
pepper, then add the thyme leaves (leave out the sprig itself) and
a drizzle of olive oil.
packet instructions. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and add to
the sauce, tossing to combine.
5. Plate and serve immediately with freshly grated Parmesan and a
drizzle of olive oil to taste.
Pappardelle with cod & cherry
tomatoes
PAPPARDELLE AL SUGO DI MERLUZZO E

POMODORINO
serves 4
When Finn was last in Parma, he found himself bemused reading a

restaurant menu. While every other word was in Italian, the very
English ‘cod’ stuck out like a sore thumb. Alessandro, who was
joining him for dinner, explained that the Italian word for cod,
merluzzo, has a second-rate ring to it. And so, where the fish is
served, and particularly in fancy restaurants, the English translation is
preferred by proprietors, as though they are disguising something
wholly unwelcome.
In any case, pasta with fillets of fresh cod is enjoyed widely
throughout Italy, and almost always served with very sweet and
diminutive cherry tomatoes. While Roberta might feel slightly
abashed to serve up merluzzo, Finn has no such qualms, and finds
this a satisfying supper best enjoyed in the evening sunshine.

1 fresh red chilli, cut in half (optional)
400g cod fillets, cleaned and roughly diced
100ml white wine
120g cherry tomatoes, diced
750g pappardelle
15g fresh parsley, finely chopped, to serve
1. Place the oil in a large frying pan over a low heat. Once hot, add
the garlic and the chilli, if using, and fry for a couple of minutes
until golden and fragrant. Remove the garlic and chilli from the
pan and discard.
2. Increase the heat and add the cod. Let it brown slightly for a
couple of minutes, stirring often, then slowly pour in the white
wine and let it evaporate.
3. Add the tomatoes and basil, stir gently and season with salt and
pepper. Cook for 8–10 minutes over a moderate heat.
cooking water, then drain the pasta and add to the sauce. Stir
gently over a low heat for 2 minutes, adding some of the
reserved cooking water to loosen the sauce, if needed.
6. Plate and serve immediately, topped with the parsley.
Malloreddus with sausage ragù from
Sardinia
MALLOREDDUS ALLA CAMPIDANESE

serves 4
In Sardinia, an Italian island of the Mediterranean, you can ask any

passerby – albeit in Sardu, the local language – what the secret to
the island’s special ragù is. They will tell you that the perfect ragù alla
Campidanese (named after the island’s Campidano region) relies on
the use of as few ingredients as possible. Each, however, should be
of the highest quality you can find. We should mention, too, that
fennel seeds are central to this recipe. If you consider yourself a
detractor – and many do when it comes to fennel – we urge you: take
a leap of faith and indulge us. You will be glad you did.

1 brown or white onion, finely diced
400g tomato passata
1 tbsp fennel seeds
500g malloreddus
Parmesan, pecorino Romano, or vegetarian alternative, grated, to serve
1. Heat the olive oil in a frying pan over a medium-high heat. Add
the onion and fry for 4 minutes until soft and translucent.
2. Increase the heat slightly and add the sausage meat. Brown the
sausage meat in the pan for 7–8 minutes, using a fork or wooden
spatula to break the meat into small pieces. Once browned,
return the heat to medium and add the passata, fennel seeds,
salt and black pepper. Simmer until the sausage is fully cooked
and the mixture has thickened – this will take around 15 minutes.
3. While the sauce cooks, bring a pot of generously salted water to
the boil. Cook the pasta until al dente, following the packet
instructions.
cooking water, then drain the pasta. Add the pasta to the sauce,
tossing until it’s completely coated, adding a drop of the cooking
5. Plate and serve immediately with freshly grated Parmesan or
pecorino Romano to taste.
Spaghetti frittata
FRITTATA DI SPAGHETTI AL FORNO

serves 4
Most Italians, and especially Roberta, baulk at the idea of food waste.
When an excess of leftovers does mount up, though, the frittata di
pasta offers recourse. Reminiscent of Britain’s bubble and squeak,
made from the inevitable leftovers of roast dinners, Roberta’s version
is inspired by Neapolitan tradition. In Naples, it’s common for the
spaghetti frittata to be referred to as a pastiera di spaghetti, in
reference to the city’s similar-looking pastiera tart.
In any case, the dish is largely a product of whichever ingredients
you have to hand. In Roberta’s kitchen, there’s almost always
smoked scamorza cheese, as well as guanciale or pancetta, so these
come heartily recommended. Ultimately, though, you can use
whatever you have to accompany the leftover pasta and eggs. There
is no reason this frittata must be assembled with spaghetti, either;
any leftover pasta shape will work just as well. To Roberta’s horror,
Finn quite likes to have a slice for breakfast, dunked in full-fat
mayonnaise with sea salt flakes sprinkled over.
8 medium eggs
40g Parmesan, grated
100g smoked scamorza, cubed
20ml whole milk
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
500g cooked spaghetti
120g pancetta or guanciale, cubed
1. Crack the eggs into a large bowl. Beat them lightly, then add the
chopped parsley, Parmesan, smoked scamorza, milk, salt and
pepper. Add the spaghetti and stir gently until well combined.
2. Heat the oil in a large non-stick frying pan over a medium heat.
Add the pancetta or guanciale and fry until crisp (around 4
minutes). Then, add the egg and spaghetti mixture and spread
evenly over the pan. Cover with a lid and cook for 10 minutes
over a medium-low heat.
3. Using the pan’s lid for support, flip the frittata and return to the
frying pan in order to cook the other side. Fry for another 5
minutes or so. Alternatively, if your pan can go under the grill, this
will also work to set the frittata without the need to flip it.
4. With a sharp knife, cut the frittata into four and serve
immediately.
In the modern age, many of us lead increasingly complicated and
frenetic lives. There’s much talk of populations becoming ‘time poor’,
whether through longer working hours, the need to commute to our
offices, or simply from spending more time on our myriad devices
and social media. In some respects, the ‘time poverty’ phenomenon
has served us well at Pasta Evangelists, as the dishes we deliver to
our customers, comprising freshly made pasta and sauces, require
only five minutes or so of preparation on the customer’s part.
On the other hand, we regret that people’s lives are busier than
ever, as some of our favourite and most-treasured recipes are those
that are made over the course of several hours. ‘Time poverty’ is
also the antithesis of traditional Italian life, which many of us at Pasta
Evangelists look to with fondness and admiration. If you visit the
island of Sardinia, for example, which is home to some of the oldest
and healthiest people on our planet, locals will emphasise the need
to live slowly and with as little stress as possible. They sow their own
seeds, harvest their own vegetables and take great relish in a glass
of local wine at lunchtime. They do not lead sedentary lives, but nor
do they sprint through their days, preferring to savour the moments
human life bestows. For Sardinians, three moments lived well each
day are better than thirty lived briskly. For a whole host of reasons
(and perhaps most importantly because Roberta and Finn both have
an aversion to sprinting that goes back to their schooldays), this
approach to life strikes us as the right one.
Of course, life is also what it is. For all our wishing, we cannot just
click our fingers and spread Sardinian languor throughout London,
where we live. In many ways, we don’t want to either. We love the
city, with its eccentricity, opportunities and diversity (especially of its
restaurants). We do think it’s important, though, from time to time, to
take a weekend to ourselves without any plans. When we do so, and
can relax fully in the knowledge that there are no other obligations to
fulfil, it’s these special recipes that we love to cook. It should be said,
too, that they are not special because they’re taxing, or require
strange and esoteric ingredients that you’d be hard-pressed to find in
Italy, let alone outside of the country. They’re special because, in a
world where time can seem so hard to come by, it’s this ingredient,
perhaps the rarest of all, that brings these recipes so deliciously to
life.
Tagliatelle with Bolognese sauce
TAGLIATELLE ALLA BOLOGNESE

serves 4
‘Spaghetti Bolognese’, as Italians see it, is the greatest affront

perpetrated on their nation by the Anglo-Saxon world. Forget the
collapse of the Roman Empire and Britannia’s great revolt – far more
traumatising, in the Italian perspective, is the proliferation of the
pseudo-Italian spaghetti Bolognese throughout the world. We say
‘pseudo’ because – to be clear – there is nothing Italian about
spaghetti Bolognese. And though you might even have been served
the dish in Italy, perhaps while holidaying in Rome, Italians will insist
you ate in a tourist trap, one where both chef and proprietor weep
with shame at the end of each day, having sold their souls down the
Tiber.
With emotions running high, we believe in doing what we can to
salve Italy’s wounded culinary consciousness. That’s why, as the real
Bolognese recipe calls for, we serve this sauce only with tagliatelle.
Like the eponymous Bolognese sauce, tagliatelle comes from the city
of Bologna, one of the world’s great food capitals, and is the only
respectable pasta pairing for it. Aside from being traditional, it’s also
the practical choice: spaghetti, far thinner than tagliatelle, do a
comparatively poor job of sopping up the meaty sauce, and should be
avoided, not merely for the sake of Italian pride.

50g unsalted butter
350g minced beef
100g unsmoked pancetta, cubed
150ml red wine
70g tomato paste
250ml beef stock
500g tomato passata
500g tagliatelle
1. Heat the olive oil and butter in a pan over a medium heat and fry
the carrots, celery and onion for 4 minutes until lightly browned.
2. Add the minced beef and cook for 5–6 minutes until browned,
stirring occasionally. Add the pancetta and cook for 3 minutes
until crispy. Then deglaze the pan with a glass of red wine
(150ml), cooking for 2 minutes until the alcohol evaporates.
3. Dissolve the tomato paste in half of the beef stock, then add to
the pan and stir until well combined.
4. Add the passata, a splash of water and salt and pepper, mix well
and simmer for about 2 hours, gradually adding the remaining
broth as needed if it becomes too thick.
6. Once the pasta is al dente, reserve a small cup of the pasta
cooking water, then drain the pasta and add to the sauce, tossing
to combine. Add the cooking water as necessary to loosen the
ragù.
7. Plate and serve immediately with a generous helping of grated
Parmesan on top.
The ultimate lasagne
LASAGNA CLASSICA ITALIANA

serves 4
The classic Italian lasagne, drenched in béchamel and full of rich,

meaty flavour, is surely one of Italy’s most iconic dishes. Via the
emigration of millions of destitute Italians in the nineteenth and
twentieth centuries (particularly from Naples, where lasagne appears
to have its origins), the dish was internationalised and propelled to
global stardom. Nowhere is this truer than in the United States, which
has a voracious collective appetite for lasagne. However, most
recipes in that country call for ricotta in place of béchamel. And while
we don’t value tradition for tradition’s sake, we do find this to be
aberrant. A rich and creamy béchamel is, in our minds, just as
integral to lasagna classica Italiana as its eponymous pasta sheets.
FOR THE BÉCHAMEL
60g unsalted butter

60g plain flour
600ml whole milk
½ tsp nutmeg, grated
FOR THE LASAGNE
1 quantity Beef Shin Ragù (see here)

500g lasagne pasta sheets
1. Make the béchamel. Melt the butter in a saucepan over a
medium heat and add the flour, whisking until combined, then
cook on a low heat for 1–2 minutes.
2. Reduce the heat to low and gradually add the milk, stirring
continuously until the sauce is thickened. Season with nutmeg,
salt and black pepper, and set aside.
4. To assemble the lasagne, ladle a thin layer of ragù over the
bottom of a 25 x 19cm baking dish. Top with a layer of lasagne
sheets – don’t worry if they overlap a little. Follow this with
another layer of ragù, using the back of the spoon to push it right
to the edges. Follow with a layer of béchamel and sprinkle over a
generous handful of grated Parmesan.
5. Repeat the following steps – pasta, ragù, béchamel, Parmesan –
until both sauces and pasta are used up. Aim for around five
layers of pasta, and don’t forget to top with a generous amount of
grated Parmesan.
6. Cook the lasagne for 40 minutes, covering with aluminium foil for
the first 10–15 minutes to ensure it doesn’t dry out in the oven or
become too browned on top.
7. Remove from the oven and leave to stand for at least 5 minutes.
To serve, slice into equal-sized portions and top with freshly
grated Parmesan.
Make your own
LASAGNE

FOR THE MEAT COMPONENT

Add 50g finely chopped white or brown onion, 50g finely
chopped celery and 50g finely diced carrot and cook for 3–4
minutes until softened.
Add 750g beef mince in two batches and cook for 10 minutes or
so until browned all over.
Add 800g tomato passata and bring to the boil.
Add salt and pepper to taste and allow to simmer for up to 30
minutes. Add a splash of water from time to time if the sauce
becomes too thick.
FOR THE BÉCHAMEL COMPONENT
Melt 100g unsalted butter in a saucepan. Once melted, stir in

100g plain white flour and cook gently for just under a minute.
Gradually stir in 1 litre of whole milk, a little at a time, stirring
well so that no lumps form. Bring the mixture to the boil, stirring
constantly, so that the mixture thickens and becomes glossy.
CONSTRUCTING THE LASAGNE
Ladle a thin layer of the meat sauce over the base of a medium
to large baking dish.
Top with a layer of lasagne sheets – don’t worry if they overlap.
Follow this with another layer of meat sauce, using the back of a
spoon to push it right to the edges.
Follow with a layer of béchamel.
Repeat these steps until both sauces are used up.
‘Breakfast in Tuscany’ lasagne
‘UN RISVEGLIO IN TOSCANA’ LASAGNA

serves 4
Breakfast has always been Finn’s favourite meal especially when,

after a few too many the night before, he’s feeling decidedly ropey.
On one such morning, contending with a hangover at Pasta
Evangelists’ headquarters, he considered the merits of a full English
breakfast. He sensed that rustling this up in the staff kitchen would
betray his condition, so instead an office fridge raid yielding some
leftover Tuscan sausage meat, pancetta and a couple of eggs
provided the inspiration for this lasagne. Although traditional in
absolutely no sense of the word, it is entirely delicious and the perfect
salve for weary souls.
FOR THE LASAGNE
400g Italian sausage meat (ideally infused with fennel)

160g smoked pancetta, cubed
4–5 medium eggs
FOR THE BÉCHAMEL
40g unsalted butter

60g plain flour
600ml whole milk
½ tsp grated nutmeg
1. For the lasagne, place a large pan over a medium heat and add
the sausage meat, breaking it up with a wooden spoon. Continue
to move the pieces in the pan to ensure they cook evenly and
don’t burn. After 4–6 minutes, once fully cooked, remove from
the pan and set aside. Leave any rendered fat in the pan.
2. Add the pancetta to the pan and fry for 3–4 minutes until crisp.
Once cooked, remove the pancetta and transfer the remaining
fat to a clean saucepan.
3. To make the béchamel, heat the saucepan containing the fat
over a medium heat and add the butter. Allow the butter to melt
before adding the flour, whisking until combined, then cook on a
low heat for 1–2 minutes, until a roux is formed.
4. Remove the pan from the heat and gradually add the milk,
stirring continuously until thickened. Ensure you add only a
splash of milk at a time. Season with nutmeg, salt and black
pepper, and set aside. Preheat the oven to 180ºC.
5. To assemble, ladle a thin layer of the béchamel sauce over the
bottom of a 25cm x 19cm baking dish. Top with a layer of
lasagne sheets – don’t worry if they overlap a little. Follow this
with a more generous layer of béchamel. Top this with a layer of
the sausage and pancetta pieces, then sprinkle over some
Parmesan.
6. Repeat the following steps – pasta, béchamel, meat, Parmesan
– until all the sauce and pasta are used up. Aim for around five
layers of pasta, and top generously with grated Parmesan.
7. Bake the lasagne for 30–35 minutes until crispy, covering with
aluminium foil for the first 10–15 minutes to ensure it doesn’t dry
out in the oven or become too browned on top. While the
lasagne is baking, boil the eggs for 7 minutes. Allow to cool in
cold water and then peel carefully.
8. Remove the lasagne from the oven. Using a knife, make 8–10
egg-shaped indentations in the top of your lasagne. Cut the
peeled, soft-boiled eggs in half with a knife and insert an egg half
in each of the indentations you have made, sunny side up. Cook
for a further 2 minutes in the oven to finish.
9. Remove from the oven and leave to stand for at least 5 minutes.
To serve, slice into equal-sized portions and top with freshly
grated Parmesan. Happy breakfasting in Tuscany.
Pappardelle with beef shin ragù
PAPPARDELLE AL RAGÙ DI MANZO

serves 4
This was one of our very first dishes when we started Pasta
Evangelists, and perhaps the one that has returned to our menu the
most since then. It’s an emphatic customer favourite, and one that we
also eat on a weekly (if not daily, if we’re being honest) basis.
What’s so special about this dish is its apparent sumptuousness,
with its bounty of melt-in-the-mouth meatiness. In reality, its
preparation, involving the slow cooking of an otherwise tough cut,
reminds us of the frugality of Tuscany’s peasantry through the
centuries. Although there’s a scarce amount of preparation involved,
you can’t skimp on the slow cooking time here; the shin cut requires a
good few hours to attain a rich, silky consistency, where the meat
ceases to cling to the bone and yields all its wonderful flavours.

300g beef shin, cut into large chunks
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 large brown or white onion, finely chopped
2 carrots, finely chopped
2 large celery sticks, finely chopped
3 tbsp tomato purée
500ml tomato passata
100ml good red wine (we like Barolo here)
200ml beef stock
1 bay leaf
500g pappardelle
1. Heat the oil in a large saucepan over a medium-high heat. Brown

the beef shin on all sides, for about 5 minutes, working in
batches if necessary. Once browned, set the beef aside.
2. Add the garlic and onion to the same pan and reduce the heat to
medium. Sauté until fragrant and beginning to brown, around 2
minutes, then add the carrots and celery and continue to sauté
until the vegetables are softened, about 5 minutes. Add the
tomato purée along with the passata and cook for another few
minutes.
3. Add the red wine and deglaze the pan, then simmer until
reduced by half, about 5 minutes.
4. Once the wine has reduced, return the beef to the pan with the
beef stock and bay leaf. Bring the liquid to a simmer over a
medium-low heat, then cover and continue to simmer for 4 hours,
or until the beef is very tender.
5. After 4 hours, remove the bay leaf. If the sauce is too thin,
remove the beef and set aside. Continue reducing the liquid over
a medium heat for a further 10 minutes until thickened. Pull the
meat into shreds and stir through the sauce, then taste for
seasoning, adding salt and pepper if necessary.
al dente, drain and add to the sauce, tossing to combine.
7. Plate and serve immediately, topped with grated Parmesan.
Pistachio & mortadella lasagne
LASAGNA AL PISTACCHIO E MORTADELLA

serves 4
A combination of delicious things from both north and south, this is

the embodiment of Italian unity: chaotic yet beautiful. Pistachios are
the star of this dish. We love the way their jade hue gives the
béchamel such a distinctive colour. Most of all, though, we love the
texture and crunch they provide. But they aren’t alone. Mortadella, a
ham from the city of Bologna in the northern region of Emilia-
Romagna, punctuates the lasagne’s festive green with little studs of
pink, and is just so pretty. The smoked mozzarella, a classic
Neapolitan ingredient, adds further geographical diversity to the
recipe and such incredible flavour.
If you are looking for a show-stopping dinner party dish, one that
celebrates the very best of all Italy, this recipe is Roberta’s favourite
lasagne and comes with her strongest recommendation.
FOR THE BÉCHAMEL

100g plain flour
1 litre whole milk
¾ tsp grated nutmeg
FOR THE LASAGNE
300g Pistachio Pesto (see here)

300g mortadella, diced into small pieces
350g smoked scamorza, diced into small pieces
80g Parmesan, grated
40g unsalted pistachio nuts, shelled and coarsely chopped
1. Begin by preparing the béchamel. Melt the butter in a saucepan

over a low heat, then slowly add the flour, whisking until
completely combined.
2. Heat the milk in a separate pan. Gradually add the heated milk to
the butter and flour mixture over a low heat, stirring continuously
to ensure no lumps form. Stir the sauce until thick enough to coat
the back of a spoon, then add salt, pepper and grated nutmeg.
3. Combine the béchamel with the pistachio pesto to obtain a
creamy sauce.
5. Spoon a couple of tablespoons of the pesto-béchamel mixture
into the base of 25 x 19cm baking dish and spread to form an
even layer. Cover with lasagne sheets – don’t worry if they
overlap a little. Then add another layer of the pesto-béchamel.
Follow this with a scattering of the mortadella and smoked
scamorza and top with some grated Parmesan.
6. Repeat the following steps – lasagne, pesto-béchamel,
mortadella, mozzarella and Parmesan – until you have used up
all the ingredients. You should have 4–5 layers of lasagne
sheets.
7. Top with the chopped pistachios, cover with aluminium foil and
bake for 40 minutes.
8. Once piping hot, remove from the oven and leave to cool for 5
minutes before serving.
Pappardelle with Tuscan wild boar
ragù
PAPPARDELLE AL RAGÙ DI CINGHIALE

serves 6
In the city of Florence, you’ll find Il Porcelino (‘the piglet’), a statue by

Baroque sculptor Pietro Tacca, dating back to the seventeenth
century. Its name is misleading, for Tacca’s masterpiece in bronze
actually depicts an adult boar, complete with fearsome tusks.
Although a regional mascot, boars are also a real nuisance. This
brazen animal is often found gobbling grapes from growers’ vines,
snorting with delectation as it wreaks havoc. It’s scarcely a surprise,
then, that while you’ll find the boar commemorated in statue form,
you’re just as likely to find it on the menu.
1kg wild boar meat (preferably shoulder), cut into 3cm cubes
750ml quality red wine
1 garlic clove, crushed
2 tbsp tomato purée
500ml chicken stock
3 bay leaves
3 sprigs of fresh thyme
10g juniper berries (if you can’t find these, you can leave them out)
750g pappardelle
Salt and pepper, to taste
1. Place the boar meat in a large mixing bowl and pour over the red
wine. Cover and allow to marinate overnight or at least 4 hours.
2. Once the meat is ready, add the olive oil to a large pot over a
medium heat. Add the onion, carrot and celery, and sweat the
mixture for 4 minutes until soft and translucent. Add the garlic
and continue to fry for 2 minutes more until fragrant.
3. Separate the cubes of boar from their red wine marinade and
add the meat to the pot, setting aside the wine. Brown the meat,
allowing it to fry for around 5 minutes.
4. Add the tomato purée and stir through, before deglazing the pan
with half of the wine marinade. Once the alcohol has evaporated,
add the chicken stock with the bay leaves, thyme and juniper
berries. Stir until well mixed, then cover with a lid. Reduce the
heat and allow to simmer and thicken for around 4 hours, stirring
occasionally to avoid any sticking.
5. After 4 hours or so, check your ragù, it should be lighter in colour
than when you left it. Check with a fork to see if the pieces of
meat are falling apart. Once ready, turn off the heat, discard the
thyme and bay leaves, and remove the meat from the pan, using
two forks to tear it into tender shreds. Once shredded, return the
meat to the pan. Leave on a very low simmer on the hob until it’s
ready to be served.
6. When it’s time to serve, bring a pot of salted water to the boil.
7. Once the pasta is al dente, reserve a little of the starchy pasta
cooking water, then drain the pasta and add to the sauce. Toss
together to coat, adding as much cooking water as necessary to
ensure the pasta is well coated.
8. Plate and serve immediately with freshly grated Parmesan.
APERITIVO
IN ITALY, WHEN THE LATE AFTERNOON SUN begins to give way to evening’s
shadow, yet the air still feels warm and the mood languorous, it’s
usually time for aperitivo. This is far more than just a drink, as the
French apéritif usually implies (‘fancy an apéritif?’). Instead, the
moment, the noun, aperitivo denotes a far richer moment. It’s one of
convivialità, a feeling of time spent together, and a prelude to the
feast. One does not have ‘an’ aperitivo, either. Rather, one takes part
‘in’ aperitivo. This is because aperitivo is a sort of ritual, where stories
are exchanged over finger foods and a good drink ‘opens’ an evening
of eating (the Latin verb aperire, from which aperitivo derives, means
‘to open’).
It was this idea of ‘opening’ the meal that captured the imagination of
the Torinese distiller Antonio Benedetto Carpano when he invented
vermouth in the late eighteenth century. Aside from feeling that this
aromatised wine was more ‘befitting’ for ladies than other local
varieties, Carpano thought the herbs and spices used to infuse the
wine, from cardamom and cinnamon to marjoram and chamomile,
also had the desirable effect of stimulating the appetite. In this
respect, his invention was posited as the drink of choice for a new
tradition: aperitivo. The craze gripped Turin’s high society, so much
so that Carpano’s wine shop was open around the clock. Cafés
serving stuzzichini (‘small bites’) with vermouth soon popped up
throughout Turin, widening access to a new aperitivo culture.
The Italian ritual of aperitivo has long since transcended the city of
Turin, and is perhaps more closely associated with Milan today.
However, although many think of aperitivo as something of a
Milanese, or at least northern, tradition, the reality is that Italians from
all four corners of the peninsula, and even its island extremities,
merrily take part. In the southeastern region of Puglia, for example,
Roberta recalls a particularly memorable aperitivo in the town of
Gallipoli. There, aperitivo comes courtesy of the Ionian Sea and is
often given the name aperifish, denoting morsels of fresh seafood
taken with a cold beer and an ocean view. This take on aperitivo
could scarcely be imagined in the heart of metropolitan Milan, but this
makes it no less valid or meaningful.
Finn’s favourite aperitivo comes from neither Turin nor Milan, but
Venice, on the other side of northern Italy. It’s the spritz Veneziano,
ubiquitous in all its orange glory in the glasses of Venetians as they
mingle along the city’s canals, picking at little bites presented on
wooden boards. For the uninitiated, the Venetian or Aperol spritz
combines bitter Aperol with prosecco and soda. It’s often served with
a slice of fresh orange and plenty of ice, and is incredibly refreshing,
particularly on a warm summer evening.
Other common sightings at aperitivo are the Campari spritz (the more
astringent predecessor to the better-known Aperol version), as well
as other bitter cocktails like Florence’s Negroni and its ancestor, the
Americano (whose name belies its Italian extraction). Countless other
drinks can be found across Italy, like the increasingly popular Hugo
spritz, originating in the Alpine region of South Tyrol. The most
common drink during aperitivo, though, is probably a simple glass of
dry white wine, produced locally and enjoyed similarly.
Ultimately, aperitivo is less about what one drinks and more about
how one does so. No Italian, for example, could conceive of aperitivo
without at least some food. This could be anything from a simple bowl
of potato crisps through to a grandiose platter of cold cuts (usually it’s
somewhere inbetween), but aperitivo always means food. On this, all
Italians can agree. So much so, in fact, that a new tradition,
apericena, is establishing itself. Combining the word aperitivo with
cena (‘dinner’), it denotes an aperitivo so full of wonderful things to
eat that there is no longer any need for a formal dinner in its wake.
Equally, aperitivo is, by definition, a social occurrence: there is no
such thing as aperitivo taken in solitude, and so amici and/or famiglia
are invariably part of this special ritual wherever and whenever it
takes place. For Italians, this is as often as possible, for aperitivo has
become an integral piece of their national life and identity.
Aperitivo is less about what one drinks and more about how one does
so.
Malloreddus with Sardinian lamb ragù
MALLOREDDUS AL RAGÙ DI AGNELLO

serves 4
On the island of Sardinia, locals often regale visitors with the quip ‘Ci
funti prusu brebeis de genti’ (‘There are more sheep than people
here’). This is not just a figure of speech: the island’s three million
sheep outnumber its human population of 1.6 million, which is
unsurprising, for Sardinia is renowned throughout the gastronomic
world for its pecorino Sardo, a cheese made from the milk of its
special Sarda sheep.
Sardinia is a centre for slow-cooked lamb dishes, particularly in
springtime, when the quality of lamb is exceptionally high and the
meat at its most tender. The addition of fennel is common in some
parts of Sardinia, where the herb grows freely. In this ragù, we prefer
the heady trio of rosemary, mint and thyme.

600g lamb shoulder, cut into 1cm cubes
1 small brown or white onion, diced
1 large carrot, diced
1 celery stick, diced
500ml lamb stock
50ml red wine
2 tsp caster sugar
1 tbsp chopped fresh mint leaves
1 sprig of fresh rosemary
1 bay leaf
2 sprigs of fresh thyme
500g malloreddus
1. Heat the oil in a large pan over a medium-high heat until it

shimmers. Add the lamb and cook for 4 minutes on each side
until nicely browned all over. Remove from the pan and set
aside.
2. Add the onions to the fat that remains in the pan and cook over a
medium heat for 4 minutes until soft. Stir in the garlic and cook
briefly (no more than 1 minute) until fragrant.
3. Add the carrots and celery and cook for 5 minutes until softened.
If the mixture starts to become dry, add a splash of lamb stock.
4. Add the red wine and let it bubble to deglaze the pan, scraping
the brown bits from the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon.
When the wine has evaporated, add the remaining lamb stock
and the tomatoes. Allow to simmer for 10 minutes.
5. Return the meat to the pan with the sugar, mint, rosemary, bay
leaf and thyme. Simmer on a low heat for 1–2 hours, until the
mixture has thickened and the lamb is very tender.
6. When the ragù has almost finished cooking, bring a pot of
generously salted water to the boil. Cook the pasta until al dente,
following the packet instructions.
7. Taste the sauce and season with salt and black pepper. Remove
the sprigs of thyme and rosemary from the sauce and discard.
8. Once the pasta is al dente, drain the pasta and add to the sauce,
stirring gently over a low heat for a minute or two before serving
with freshly grated Parmesan to taste.
Pappardelle with Venetian duck ragù
PAPPARDELLE AL RAGÙ VENEZIANO

serves 4
When Italians speak of ‘Veneto’, they are not speaking of the city of
Venice, but rather one of Italy’s 20 regions to which the city of Venice
belongs. The city of Venice itself is known in Italian as ‘Venezia’, and
is merely one of Veneto’s population centres. In this respect, it is
important to recognise that Venetian cuisine refers to more than, say,
the famous cicchetti (‘small bites’) enjoyed by locals around the
canals of the relatively small city of Venice. Instead, Venetian cuisine
is the sum of all of Veneto’s towns, cities and villages. The pretty city
of Vicenza, for example, is the birthplace of Veneto’s quintessential
bigoli all’arna. Bigoli are a long, thick pasta shape from the region,
while arna, in the Venetian language, denotes duck. Curiously for a
coastal region famous for its seafood, duck ragù is one of the defining
– and undoubtedly most delicious – dishes of Veneto, and one we
cannot abide missing out on whenever we visit.
2–3 tbsp unsalted butter

500g duck breast, cut into 3cm cubes (save half of the duck’s skin and dice this)
2 bay leaves
1 tsp cloves
1 cinnamon stick
100ml red wine
100–200ml vegetable stock
750g pappardelle
1. Heat the butter and oil in a frying pan and cook the celery, onion,
carrot and minced garlic for 3–4 minutes until softened. Add the
diced duck fat to the pan and render it for 4 minutes until it’s
browned.
2. Add the cubed duck breast, bay leaves, cloves and cinnamon
stick to the pan, allowing the meat to brown for 4–5 minutes.
3. Deglaze the pan by pouring in the wine and allow the alcohol to
evaporate completely (around 2 minutes). Add salt and pepper to
taste and cook over a medium-low heat for about 30 minutes,
adding the stock gradually whenever the sauce becomes too
thick.
5. Once the pasta is al dente, drain and add to the ragù. Toss to
combine, then plate and serve with some freshly grated
Parmesan.
HOW TO MAKE FRESH PASTA DOUGH
EGG DOUGH
1. Place 500g of 00 flour on a large wooden board.

2. Make a well in the centre of the mound of flour, large enough for 5
large eggs.
3. Crack the eggs into the well.
4. Begin beating the eggs with a fork, slowly pulling in the flour from
the sides of the well as you go.
5. As the mixture thickens, start using your hands to incorporate the
remaining flour. You can also use a scraper to help loosen any
extra bits of flour stuck to the board. Keep mixing with your hands
until all the egg has been absorbed by the flour.
6. It’s time to knead. Using the palm of your hand, knead the dough
for 10–15 minutes until you reach an elastic consistency. If the
dough feels too sticky, simply add a little more flour and continue to
knead until it bounces back at your touch.
7. Leave to rest for 30 minutes, covered with a cloth or clingfilm.
VEGAN DOUGH
1. Place 500g of semola flour on a large wooden board.

2. Make a well in the centre of the mound of flour, large enough to
hold 200ml warm water.
3. Start by adding half the water to the well, then begin to work the
flour into the water with your fingers.
4. Add the rest of the water and continue to work the flour until all the
water is fully absorbed.
5. Using both hands, push all the flour together and form a dough.
6. It’s time to knead. Using the palm of your hand, knead the dough
for 10–15 minutes until you reach an elastic consistency. If the
dough feels too sticky, simply add a little more flour and continue to
knead until the dough bounces back at your touch.
7. Leave to rest for 10–15 minutes, covered with a cloth or clingfilm.

SEVEN SIMPLE SHAPES
ORECCHIETTE
1. Cut yourself a small piece of vegan dough (see here); about one
quarter is perfect. Leave the remaining dough to one side covered
with a cloth or in a plastic bag.
2. Knead the small piece of dough for a few seconds to soften it.
3. Using the palm of your hand, carefully roll the small piece of dough
into a long rope-like shape about 1cm thick.
4. Using a non-serrated knife, cut the rope into small pillows of dough
around 1cm in length.
5. Take your first pillow of dough. With the round tip of a knife, press
down on the top edge of the dough before dragging it along the
work surface until it turns in on itself. Press your finger into the
concave to make the shape into a dome.
6. Repeat with each pillow of dough.
7. Leave your orecchiette to dry on a clean tea towel or wire rack for
a couple of hours.
MALLOREDDUS
1. Cut yourself a small piece of vegan dough (see here); about one
with a cloth or in a plastic bag. Knead the small piece of dough for
a few seconds to soften it.
2. Using the palm of your hand, carefully roll the small piece of dough
into a long rope-like shape about 1cm thick.
3. Using a non-serrated knife, cut the rope into little pieces, around
5mm in length.
4. Take your gnocchi board and place a piece of dough on top.
5. Using the knife, gently flatten the dough against the board and roll
it away from your body in the direction of the grooves.
6. Repeat with each piece of dough.
7. Leave your malloreddus to dry on a clean tea towel or wire rack for
a couple of hours.
TAGLIATELLE
1. Cut yourself a small piece of egg dough (see here); about one
2. Place your dough on a wooden board and flatten it with the palm of
your hand. You want it to be about 1cm thick (and no more than
2cm).
3. To prepare your pasta machine, place the rollers on the widest
setting. This is usually setting 0 or 1, depending on the machine.
Start to pass your dough slowly through the machine.
4. Once processed, fold the dough in half and repeat the previous
step. Lightly flour the dough if it is sticking to the rollers.
5. Reduce the space between the rollers by one notch. Continue to
stretch the dough using your machine until it is approximately 3mm
thick.
6. Adjust your pasta machine to the tagliatelle setting. Insert the

dough and fold it through the machine until the tagliatelle forms.
7. Leave the tagliatelle to dry on a wooden board for an hour before

cooking to attain a rustic texture.
SPAGHETTI
2. Place your dough on a wooden board and flatten it with the palm of
your hand. You want it to be about 1cm thick (and no more than
2cm).
3. To prepare your pasta machine, place the rollers on the widest
setting. This is usually setting 0 or 1, depending on the machine.
Start to pass your dough slowly through the machine.
4. Once processed, fold the dough in half and repeat the previous
step. Lightly flour the dough if it is sticking to the rollers.
5. Reduce the space between the rollers by one notch. Continue to
stretch the dough using your machine, until it is approximately
3mm thick.
6. Adjust your pasta machine to the spaghetti setting. Insert the
dough and fold it through the machine until the spaghetti forms.
7. Leave the spaghetti to dry on a wooden board before cooking.

PAPPARDELLE
2. Flour the work surface. Using a rolling pin, start to roll your dough
until it is elastic.
3. Keep rolling the dough until it is so transparent that you can see
your hand through it. It should be about 2mm thick.
4. Sprinkle the dough with flour. This will prevent the pappardelle
sticking together when cut.
5. Start to roll the dough inward from both sides, making sure you add
extra flour as you fold so the dough does not stick together.
6. Once you have finished rolling the dough, cut the pappardelle into
strips about 6mm wide.
7. Leave the pappardelle to dry on a wooden board for an hour before

cooking to attain a rustic texture.
GNOCCHI
1. Place 300g of 00 flour on a large wooden board.

2. Make a well in the centre of the mound and add 1kg mashed
potato to the well.
3. Using your fingers, pull the potato into the flour from the centre.
Crack 3 eggs into the well.
4. Mix all the ingredients together using your hands. Once the egg is
absorbed, you can begin kneading the dough for 10–15 minutes.
After kneading the ball of dough, shape into a fat sausage (around
5–6cm thick).
5. Cut yourself a small piece of dough; about one quarter is perfect.
Carefully roll the small piece of dough into a long rope-like shape
about 0.75cm thick. Repeat this process for the rest of the dough.
6. With a non-serrated knife, cut the ropes into little pieces, around
5mm in length.
7. Take your gnocchi board and place a piece of dough on top. Using
your finger, roll the gnocchi down the gnocchi board away from
your body in the direction of the grooves. When you are finished,
allow the gnocchi to rest on a wooden board for up to 1 hour before
cooking.
RIGATONI
2. Flour the work surface. Using a rolling pin, start to roll your dough
until it is about 3mm thick.
3. Sprinkle the dough with flour. This will prevent the rigatoni sticking
together when cut.
4. Cut the dough into long rectangular sheets, roughly 3cm wide.
5. From the long rectangular sheets, cut out smaller rectangles, each
roughly 6cm long. Flour each rectangle well to avoid sticking.
6. Place a rectangle of dough on the board. Gently use the stick to
roll it into a rigatoni shape, taking care with how much pressure you
exert. It must be enough to create grooves but not enough to break
the pasta.
7. After a couple of rolls, gently slide the stick out of the pasta.
In Italy, most fresh ingredients are purchased at local markets where

you have the opportunity to touch, smell and often taste them before
buying. For this reason, we like to visit farmers’ markets for fresh
ingredients wherever possible. You can find your nearest market
online.
If it’s not possible for you to get to a market, or for ambient
products, cheeses and pasta flour, we have included some
alternative suppliers and stockists below. If you find it challenging to
source a certain ingredient, you can also get in touch with us at
chef@pastaevangelists.com and we’ll do what we can to point you in
the right direction.
ADIMARIA
[ADIMARIA.CO.UK]
Roberta buys her semola di grano duro here, used for making pasta
bianca (‘white pasta’) such as malloreddus or orecchiette. You can
also get your hands on gluten-free flour here.
DELICATEZZA
[DELICATEZZA.CO.UK]
Delicatezza is one of our favourite stockists. You’ll find Italian
cheeses such as stracciatella, burrata, fior di latte mozzarella and
ricotta salata. As well as meats such as Calabrian ‘nduja, fennel
sausages, speck, prosciutto cotto and guanciale.
GASTRONOMICA
[GASTRONOMICA.CO.UK]
Gastronomica is another option for several Italian cheeses, including
fontina, pecorino Romano, Taleggio and Gorgonzola.
NATOORA
[NATOORA.CO.UK]
Natoora is a shining beacon for fresh, seasonal vegetables and fruits
in the UK. If you can’t visit a farmers’ market, Natoora has an array
of produce through its app, but currently delivers only in London and
other pockets within the M25. Fortunately, many of its products are
also available on Ocado, with wider delivery.
SOUSCHEF
[SOUSCHEF.CO.UK]
Souschef offers lots of ambient ingredients of a high quality. You can
find delicious tinned San Marzano tomatoes, for example, as well as
our favourite brand of Mutti chopped tomatoes.
PASTA EVANGELISTS
[PASTAEVANGELISTS.COM]
Last but not least, many of the dishes in this book can also be
bought directly from us as ready-to-prepare meal kits. We also carry
a range of pasta-making kits, pasta chefs’ aprons, and more.
GRAZIE
To our co-founders Alessandro Savelli and Chris Rennoldson, for

sharing in our limitless love of pasta and so patiently bearing with us
as we wrote this book while carrying out our day jobs.
To our friend and colleague Sunita Patel, a source of endless
wisdom, creativity and wit, and without whose input and support this
book would not have been possible.
To Roberta’s nonna, Maria-Assunta d’Elia, for teaching Roberta to
cook as a little girl and instilling a life-long love of cucina povera and
food. You are missed dearly every day.
To our editor, Ru Merritt, for championing our love of Italy, and
pasta, from the day we met her. For her enthusiasm for this book
and the stories and recipes in it.
To all those who contributed recipes, stories, snippets, or in any
other way to this book: Imma Apuzzo, Martina Prinzis, Sophie
Cobley, Belinda Davies, Siwan Lewis, Lia Mondavi, Jennifer Mitchell,
and the rest of the Pasta Evangelists team.
To our photographer, Tim Atkins, for his indefatigable cheer,
positivity and enthusiasm for Pasta Evangelists over the years. For
his ability to capture pasta at its most beautiful.
To our food stylist, Emily Kydd, for being so characteristically
patient with us as we continued experimenting with our recipes to the
very last second, chopping and changing as we went. For her ability
to make our food look so lovely, yet effortless and real, all at the
same time.
To Finn’s mum, Deanna, for patiently reading through countless
drafts of this book (and for being one of the longest Pasta
Evangelists subscribers).
To Roberta’s partner, Francesco, for being a pillar of strength and
reminding her that she could do it. For being Roberta’s personal
guinea pig for countless recipes over the years.
To Alessandro’s mum, Ruth, for so generously proofreading the
words written in this book.
To China & Co, for providing many of the beautiful plates, bowls
and other bits and pieces used to bring the photographs to life. And
for being so good about it when we broke a couple in the process!
To Stoke Newington Green Fruit & Vegetables, for providing much
of the fresh produce used in the recipes featured throughout this
book.
To Fin & Flounder, for providing much of the seafood used in the
recipes featured throughout this book.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Pasta Evangelists is on a simple mission - to bring a taste of Italy’s

fresh pasta culture to British kitchens. Beginning as a subscription
box in 2016, Pasta Evangelists has since delivered over 1 million
boxes, with success coming from a focus on delivering fresh,
homemade pasta, beautiful sauces and authentic recipes that will
transport customers to Italy. Find out more at pastaevangelists.com
Roberta D’Elia is the Head Chef at Pasta Evangelists, born and
raised in Puglia her favourite pasta shape is orecchiette. Finn Lagun
is co-founder of Pasta Evangelists and his favourite pasta shape is
paccheri.
CONVERSION TABLES
OVEN TEMPERATURE GUIDE
Elec ºC Elec ºF Elec ºC (Fan) Gas mark
200 400 180 6
220 425 200 7
LIQUID MEASUREMENTS (under 1 litre)

Metric Imperial Australian/US
25 1 fl oz
60 2 fl oz ¼ cup
75 3 fl oz
100 3½ fl oz
120 4 fl oz ½ cup
150 5 fl oz
180 6 fl oz ¾ cup
200 7 fl oz
250 9 fl oz 1 cup
300 10½ fl oz 1¼ cups
400 14 fl oz 1¾ cups
600 1 pint 2½ cups
750 1¼ pints 3 cups
1 litre 1¾ pints 1 quart or 4 cups
WEIGHT MEASUREMENTS
Metric Imperial
10 ½ oz
20 ¾ oz
25 1 oz
40 1½ oz
50 2 oz
60 2½ oz
75 3 oz
110 4 oz
125 4½ oz
150 5 oz
175 6 oz
200 7 oz
225 8 oz
250 9 oz
275 10 oz
350 12 oz
450 1 lb
700 1½ lb
900 2 lb
Copyright
First published in Great Britain in 2021 by Seven Dials

an imprint of The Orion Publishing Group Ltd
Carmelite House, 50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
An Hachette UK Company
Text © Pasta Evangelists Limited 2021

Design and layout © Orion 2021
The moral right of Finn Lagun and Roberta D’Elia to be identified as the authors of this work
has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the
above publisher of this book.
Images here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here from Shutterstock
Editor: Ru Merritt
Photographer: Tim Atkins
Art Director and Design: Clare Sivell
Production Controller: Claire Keep
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (eBook) 978 1 8418 8476 9
www.orionbooks.co.uk
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
ITALY: A STORY OF 20 REGIONS
PART 1: 10 MINUTES
PART 2: 20 MINUTES
PART 3: 30 MINUTES
PART 4: SPECIAL RECIPES
HOW TO MAKE FRESH DOUGH
SEVEN SIMPLE SHAPES
GRAZIE
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
CONVERSION TABLES
COPYRIGHT

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CONTENTS

HOW TO MAKE FRESH DOUGH

A note from Roberta

, it’s that it’s a young country.

In the nineteenth century, a movement known as the Risorgimento

The Republic of Venice, for example, existed for over a millennium,

Separated from the Italian peninsula by the Mediterranean, the island

In this respect, Italy is not merely a new nation, but an incredibly

Italy is not merely a new nation, but an incredibly diverse one

Within Italy’s modest territory of a little over 300,000 square

SPAGHETTI ALLA CARBONARA

When we photographed this dish, our photographer Tim exclaimed

ORECCHIETTE AL POMODORO FRESCO E

Sixty kilometres or so south of Naples lies the Costiera Amalfitana, or

By most accounts, Italy is the world’s second largest producer of

1. Cook the gnocchi, following the packet instructions. While the

RIGATONI ALLA GRICIA

This dish is shrouded in mystery. Essentially a carbonara without the

Finn loves Middle Eastern ingredients and was enraptured to find a

RIGATONI ALLA RICOTTA

This recipe is a work of mere moments. With just a few ingredients, it

SPAGHETTI ALLA CARRETTIERA

The name of this dish comes courtesy of Sicilian history. A carrettiere,

TAGLIATELLE CON GAMBERONI E LIMONE

If you’ve ever had the fortune of driving along the coastline of

GNOCCHI AL BURRO E SALVIA

When we visit the northern reaches of Italy, especially the

1. Cook the gnocchi, following the packet instructions. While the

, where the royal court still held sway, there

Queen Elena would outlive Mafalda by nearly a decade, but not

It took over 50 years for the Italian government to honour Mafalda,

In the realm of pasta poetry, though, Mafalda’s elegy is unique. Pasta

Linguine are ‘little tongues’, while Roberta’s beloved orecchiette are

Each year, the town of Castelfranco Emilia, in the province of

Through this propensity to create poetry from pasta, we are reminded

MALLOREDDUS AL PESTO DI FAVE

35g pine nuts

SPAGHETTI CACIO E PEPE

Cacio e pepe, literally ‘cheese and pepper’, is perhaps the most

ORECCHIETTE CON ROMANESCO

The Romanesco broccoli is one of nature’s most beautiful gifts. As

600g Romanesco broccoli, broken down into florets

GNOCCHI CON CREMA AL PARMIGIANO

A while ago we visited Parma, in the region of Emilia-Romagna,

SPAGHETTI ALLA CARBONARA DI ZUCCHINE

As the classic carbonara recipe (see here) calls for guanciale (a

ORECCHIETTE ALLA CRUDAIOLA

In Puglia, it’s common for temperatures to exceed 40°C in the

GNOCCHI AL QUATTRO FORMAGGI

1. Cut the cheeses into small pieces and set aside.

BASE RECIPE (SERVES 4)

Choose your preferred additions from the regions opposite.

SPAGHETTI ALLE VONGOLE

TAGLIATELLE PANNA E PROSCIUTTO DI PARMA

As a young boy growing up in Newcastle, one of Finn’s formative

SPAGHETTI AGLIO, OLIO E PEPERONCINO

Finn first encountered this staple pasta dish as a European exchange

ORECCHIETTE AL PESTO DI RUCOLA

Roberta’s nonna, Maria-Assunta, largely preferred to put the wild

Tips & Substitutions