This week’s pasta is a quick little dish built on pantry staples. We’ve mixed our pasta dough up with a hit of smoked paprika, turning the typically green foglie d’ulivo into a more autumnal colour (for our northern hemisphere friends). They’re served in a warming but understated brown butter sauce flavoured with garlic, saffron, fennel, pepper berries, and rosemary. One of the easiest doughs to make, turned into a forgivingly rustic pasta shape, served in the easiest of sauces.

This week’s pasta is a little something special that we put together for Mutti. Simple but delicious cavatelli, served in a quick sugo, and topped with fresh ricotta salata, pine nuts, and lemon zest. For when you’re in a hurry, but still want to impress!

It’s time to go back to basics, and it doesn’t get much simpler than flour, water, and onions. This week we’re tapping into our roots with the perfectly imperfect Calabrese fileja. Although we make all kinds of pasta these days, and tend to use egg doughs more often than not, a lot of the pasta that we made and ate growing up was just flour and water. In fact, most of the food that we enjoyed was really cucina povera, imported to Australia relatively unchanged from how it was cooked by generations before us back in Italy. For me, something about that connection always makes these dishes a little special.

Pasta that looks like beans! This week’s capunti are made with a classic flour and water dough; no pasta sheets, no filling, just hand-shaped pods of goodness. You might remember that way back we made casarecce and pici with similar doughs. Like them, the lack of egg in our capunti makes for a creamy, smooth texture. Poke a few little hollows in the middle to catch the sauce, and you’ve got a simple and tasty little pasta.

The Italian-Australian experience, and all that it brings with it, is really the only ‘Italian’ that I’ve ever known. My brother and I grew up with an Italian mum (first-generation Australian) and an English-Australian dad, spending most of our early years in the care of a thoroughly Calabrian Nonna who arrived in that rich 50s boom. To this day, the only Italian that sounds right to me is her comfortable, lazy southern drawl, and the only Italian-English accent that makes sense comes from that same familiar dialect.

Pici are the answer to all of your thick, chewy pasta cravings. They’re sort an Italian equivalent to chunky hand cut rice noodles. We usually make them with just bread flour and water, but this week we’ve taken it up a notch by swapping out the water for red wine. We served them up with a chunky sauce of crispy sausage meat, fried chunks of bread, and wilted greens, for a satisfying dish loaded with texture and flavour.

Last week we tried to escape the mists and frosts of winter with a little touch of the seaside, but this week we’re embracing it. Or at least trudging on, bolstered by a hearty bowl of chewy wholemeal spelt gemelli. Their twisty texture and earthy flavour makes for a fortifying plate of pasta, whether it’s stirred through a hearty ragu, or tossed with a bit of butter and pepper.

This week we left the eggs in the fridge and the pasta machine in the cupboard, and made some good old flour and water casarecce. None of that fiddling around with egg to egg-yolk ratios and oil to water moisture levels; just two ingredients and our hands.