I am reluctant to give precise times for how long you should knead, as I think they can be off-putting if you are just starting out. Let’s just say that the minimum is 8 minutes and the maximum is whenever the dough feels soft and silky. I suggest you find a couple of quiet afternoons and some nice music to do a bit of experimenting.

Pasta all’uovo

Fresh egg pasta

makes enough for 4

3¼ cups Italian 00 flour or King Arthur Italian-style flour, plus extra for dusting

4 large eggs

Sift the flour into a broad mountain on a wooden board or work surface. Using the back of your fist, gently swirl a deep, wide crater into the center of the mountain. Break the eggs into the crater. Using a fork, pierce the yolks, then swirl the eggs and use the fork to start incorporating the flour into the eggs (the edges of the crater will stop the eggs from escaping). Once the eggs are absorbed, use your hands to bring the rest of the flour into a sticky, messy dough. Keep working the dough until all the flour is incorporated and you have a neat-ish ball and clean hands and work surface.

The kneading. Glance at the clock, put on some music, and place the dough on a work surface. Place the heels of both hands on the dough. Using your body weight, push the dough forward with one heel and then the other, folding the edges over as you go and turning the dough a quarter turn every few pushes. Find a strong but easy rhythm and continue kneading like this for at least 8 minutes, during which time the dough will transform from a rough ball into a firm, smooth, silky ball of dough.

The rolling. Allow the dough to rest for 30 minutes, covered with a clean tea towel, or simply on the work surface with a bowl inverted over the top. Once rested, you can move on to the next stage, which for the purposes of the recipes in this book is rolling into sheets (le sfoglie), which you can do by hand, or by using a hand-cranked machine that clamps to the table. You’re going to cut the dough into 8 pieces, so mark it lightly with the blade of a knife so as to identify the pieces, but cut away only one and re-cover the rest of the dough to stop it from drying out. Set the rollers of your pasta machine to setting 1 (the widest). Flatten the lump of dough into a little patty, then send it through the rollers, cranking the machine with the other hand. Fold both ends of the dough in and over each other, like an envelope, and pass the dough through the machine again. Repeat with the other 7 pieces. Set the machine to setting 2 and pass all the pieces of dough through twice in the same way. Lay each freshly rolled piece on a floured board while you pass the others, and keep working like this, increasing the setting each time, until you reach the penultimate setting. You’ll finish up with 8 narrow sfoglie (sheets) of pasta, all ready to cut.

The cutting. For the recipes here, you’ll need to make fettuccine (flat noodles), quadrucci (little squares), and farfalle (butterflies). The remnants and odd bits left over are your maltagliati (badly cut pieces), which can be frozen at first on a tray, and then in a bag, until you have enough for a soup. You can also use the sfoglie to make filled ravioli and lasagne.

Fettuccine

Lay the pasta sheet on a lightly floured board, dusting the sheet lightly with more flour, and then rolling it loosely into a flat roll about 4 inches wide. With a sharp knife, slice the roll at ¼-inch intervals. Save any odd bits for maltagliati. Once cut, gently fluff the fettuccine with your fingers and allow them to fall into loose little piles on the board until you are ready to use them.

Quadrucci

These are little squares, which is one of our absolute favorite shapes at home. Vincenzo, who is usually a stickler for matching shape to dish, would happily break the rules and have these in all the minestra recipes. I learned to make quadrucci by watching the ladies in the pasta all’uova shop in piazza Testaccio, their confident hands and impressive blades a formidable combination. You begin as you would when making fettuccine, by laying the pasta sheet on a lightly floured board, dusting the sheet lightly with more flour, and then rolling it loosely into a flat roll about 4 inches wide. With a sharp knife, cut the roll at ¼-inch intervals to make fettuccine, keeping the pieces together, then rotate the roll and cut it in the other direction, so as to make little squares. Save any odd bits for maltagliati. Once cut, immediately fluff, lift, and separate the quadrucci so they don’t stick. Leave them spaced out on a board, covered with a clean tea towel, until you are ready to use them.

Farfalle

Use a sharp knife or pasta cutter to cut the pasta sheet into ¾-inch noodles as for thick fettuccine, then into rectangles about 1½ inches long. Pinch each piece hard in the middle so that they resemble butterflies or bow ties. Leave them spaced out on a board, covered with a clean tea towel, until you’re ready to use them.

Ravioli di ricotta e spinaci

Ricotta and spinach ravioli

The first time I attempted ravioli I ignored every bit of advice I’d ever given myself and made them in a rush, in my insufficient kitchen, for guests, as part of a complicated lunch. Needless to say, it was not a pleasant experience. The handle of the pasta machine kept flying across the kitchen, the filling was too wet, the dough was too dry, half of them burst in the pan, and even though everyone was very nice about my first attempt—although not nice enough to have seconds—I swore I would never make them again.

It took me a few years, but I did try again, on an ordinary day, when it was only us and if everything went wrong again we knew we could always go out for lunch (which we didn’t).

You need a decent work space, which for me means the kitchen table, onto which the pasta machine clamps nicely. Two sets of hands are useful, too, one to roll and the other to fill, press, and cut. My other advice is to make sure you squeeze as much water as you can from the spinach, and to press firmly between the mounds. A wheeled cutter is useful, although not essential. Have a clean tea towel laid out ready—in my case on top of the washing machine—on which you can put the finished ravioli.

A few years on, ravioli are one of my favorite things to make. I still can’t make them in a rush or for more than 6 people, and they still occasionally burst in the boiling water, but not very often. I like them with quite a lot of melted butter and sage and a glass of aromatic white wine like Greco di Tufo, which holds its own against the sage.

serves 4

7 ounces spinach

1⅓ cups best-quality ricotta, ideally made from sheep’s milk, drained

¾ cup grated Parmesan, plus 3 tablespoons to serve

a little grated nutmeg (optional)

1 quantity egg pasta (here), cut into manageable lengths (about 4 inches wide)

7 tablespoons butter

8 small sage leaves

Rinse the spinach, then cook it in a hot pan, covered, with just the water clinging to the leaves, until it has wilted. Drain the spinach well, then squeeze as much water as possible from it. You’ll be left with a tiny ball. Roughly chop the spinach and then mix it in a bowl with the ricotta, Parmesan, and grating of nutmeg, if you are using it.

On a work surface dusted lightly with flour, lay out the pasta sheets. Using a teaspoon, put an acorn-size mound of the ricotta-and-spinach mixture at 1¼-inch intervals until you get halfway along each strip of pasta. Fold the pasta sheet over to cover the heaps of filling and press it down around them, then firmly press your fingertips between the mounds to seal them. Cut the ravioli apart with a wheeled cutter, then place them on a clean tea towel or flour-dusted tray, making sure they don’t touch each other or they will stick.

To cook the ravioli, bring a large pot of water to a fast boil, add salt, stir, and then carefully drop the ravioli into the pot a few at a time. Depending on the thickness, ravioli takes anywhere from 5–8 minutes. Test for doneness by eye, pinching the (hot) edge of the pasta and tasting. Keep an eagle eye out and don’t leave the pasta unattended.

While the pasta is cooking, melt the butter in a small saucepan or frying pan over low heat. Increase the heat and add the sage leaves. When they begin to change color, which should take about 1 minute, remove the pan from the heat and keep warm.

Once cooked, lift the ravioli from the water with a slotted spoon or spider strainer directly onto a warm serving dish. Sprinkle with Parmesan, pour over the butter and sage, and serve immediately.

Gnocchi di patate

Potato dumplings

Gnocchi are little dumplings; the word comes from a northern Italian dialect and means “little knots.” They can be made from flour or bread crumbs with the addition of potatoes, vegetables, or ricotta, or a mixture.

In Rome, it’s traditional to eat potato gnocchi on Thursdays. Press your nose up against a misted-up windowpane or peer round the door of any traditional trattoria on any given Thursday and you will almost certainly see gnocchi di patate or gnocchi del Giovedi chalked up on the blackboard. Peer persistently, and you might well catch sight of the gnocchi being whisked from kitchen to table: steaming bowls of small, pale dumplings, forked on one side, thumb depressed on the other, sitting nonchalantly in a simple sauce.

To add eggs, or not to add eggs: that is the question. In Rome the answer is resolutely yes. Eggs are mixed with farinose (floury) potatoes and a generous amount of flour, which produces stout, well-bound, and thus well-behaved gnocchi, the kind that can withstand a rowdy, rollicking boil in an equally rowdy trattoria kitchen. The general Roman consensus seems to be more or less 2¼ pounds potatoes, 2 whole eggs, and 3¼ cups flour, give or take the odd very strong opinion.

serves 4

about 1¼ pounds russet potatoes, ideally 3 or 4 equal-size ones

1 egg

scant 2½ cups Italian 00 flour or King Arthur Italian-style flour (you may not need all of it)

Scrub, but don’t peel, the potatoes. In a large pan, cover the potatoes with cold water, bring to a boil, and cook until they’re tender to the point of a knife. Drain and then return them briefly to the pan over very low heat for about 30 seconds so that they dry out.

Once the potatoes are cool enough to handle, peel them, and while they are still warm, pass them through a potato ricer or food mill into a heap on a work surface. Make a crater in the center of the pile, break the egg into the crater, and then, using your fingertips, work the egg into the potato. A wonderfully sticky job.

Sift the flour into a bowl and then tip half of it over the potato-and-egg mixture. Work the flour into the mixture with your fingertips, adding more flour and working until you have a consistent, soft dough that comes away from your hands and the board. The amount of flour you need will vary.

Divide the dough into 6 pieces and, on a lightly floured board, roll each piece into a slim log about ¾ inch wide. Cut the log into pieces as wide as they are thick, then gently press each piece with the back of a fork to give it the ridges that will later collect sauce. Cover the gnocchi with a clean tea towel until you’re ready to cook them.

Gnocchi di patate con ragù con le spuntature

Potato gnocchi with pork rib ragù

Spuntature (rib tips) are cut from the end of the spare ribs, and are made up of flexible cartilage rather than bone. It’s this cartilage that makes this dish of ribs braised with tomato so unctuously good, because it thickens the sauce. It’s sometimes served with pasta, but best of all with potato gnocchi for what would be called un piatto unico (a single dish), the deep red sauce coating each gnocchi and the ribs waiting to be picked out with your fingers. I also like it as a main dish, perhaps with good sausages too, with rice or plain boiled potatoes.

serves 4

1 large white onion

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

14 ounces short pork ribs, trimmed of fat

1 (28-ounce) can plum tomatoes, chopped or milled, or passata

salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 quantity potato gnocchi (here)

Dice the onion. Warm the oil in a deep sauté pan or heavy-bottomed frying pan over medium heat and add the onion and ribs. Fry the ribs gently for about 20 minutes, turning them regularly until they are light brown on all sides.

Add the tomatoes, a good pinch of salt, and some black pepper. Cover the pan and leave it to simmer gently over low heat, stirring every now and then, for 1 hour, or until the sauce is richly flavored, thick, and the meat tender. Keep the sauce and ribs warm.

To cook the gnocchi, bring a large pot of well-salted water to a fast boil. Warm a large shallow serving dish and make sure you have the warm sauce and ribs and a slotted spoon at the ready. Drop the gnocchi into the boiling water. As soon as they bob to the surface, which will take a matter of minutes, scoop them from the water with the slotted spoon and into the serving dish. Spoon over the sauce, tossing the gnocchi gently to coat, arrange the ribs over the gnocchi, and serve immediately, dividing the gnocchi and ribs between the plates. The ribs are served whole, and should be picked out and eaten with fingers.