It’s been far too long since we’ve pulled a real Pasta et Al move! I’ve always wanted to put American mustard inside pasta, and I love any opportunity to provoke purists, so this week we are taking the flavours of the ubiquitously fantastic cheeseburger, and stuffing them into fagottini.

Our pasta is bobbing around in a tomato and bacon broth, with pickle juice stirred through. And our sesame seed dough is filled with a neat stack of American red cheddar, ketchup made from the strained broth tomatoes, mustard, and a mini beef hamburger patty containing the bacon from the broth.

Working on our book over this last year or so, I’ve focused on pairing more complicated pasta with simpler sauces, and vice versa. It just allows you to save a little time on one element, and use that to create something special with another.

So the dough and pasta is the focus here, although the confit purée is deceptively impressive for its simplicity – you certainly don’t have to sacrifice flavour to save time! This is our Striped Ricotta Fagottini with Garlic and Fennel Confit Purée.

We had to do it. We had to make a festive season pasta. This week’s two-tone fusilli combines tomato and spinach doughs into hand-rolled twisty goodness. Served in a light nduja-spiced sauce, with crispy basil and sage leaves and cherry bocconcini, what better way to celebrate the closing out of the year? Pignolata, that’s how! To finish our dish we’ve prepared these usually sweet Christmas treats as savoury gold-coated baubles, and used them to dress our tinsel-like pasta. Because ‘tis the season.

This week we’re throwing back to the 80s! This spinach and ricotta rotolo was something that my Mum used to cook up for special occasions, back when béchamel was big. Or so I’m told. I was more a concept than a thing at the time, and I’m not sure that béchamel ever actually went out of fashion anyway, so take that as you will.

There was often a uniquely delicious smell filling my great aunty’s house when we’d drop by for a meal. This is in contrast to my poor nonna, whose penchant for boiled broad beans left her house more often than not smelling like sweaty feet. It was many years before I learned that the characteristic ingredients of my aunty’s famous pasta bake (and to be fair, my nonna’s equally famous prupettone) were in fact rather representative of southern Italian cooking in general: the humble hardboiled egg and a chunk of salami.

If you want to light a fire in the pasta world, just ask someone what these little guys are called. Even the ravioli versus tortelli debate is easier to settle than this one. Manti, fagottini, ravioli, cofanetti, lanterne. Whatever you want to call them, they look great, taste fantastic, and are one of the easiest filled pastas to make.

One day, when I’m living in a whimsically decrepit villa in southern Italy, backing on to woodlands and looking down towards the ocean, I’ll grab my whittled walking stick and amble out the backdoor to collect mushrooms. There are honestly fewer things that I want more in life. But right now I’m 16,000 kilometres away and have little idea how to pick mushrooms that won’t kill me.