This week we mixed a little nostalgia into our pasta: figs, anisette, and the lolly bowl. One of the most enduring memories that I have of my Nonna’s house is actually my Nonno’s liqueur cabinet, filled with mysterious and intricate glassware, and the intoxicating smell of anisette. Always competing for my fickle loyalty was my great aunty, who would keep a box of those rectangular Italian lollies at the ready to bribe us with. And my mum loves figs!

Little Al and I were playing around with cookie cutters, making a lot of mess and noise, when we came up with this week’s shape. It’s kind of close to funghini pasta, so that’s what we’re calling it. We wanted to pair it with a rich, spicy arrabbiata sauce, and this shape allowed us to work in some two-tone laminated goodness of spinach and paprika doughs: one flavour to contrast with the sugo and one to complement. These fun guys were the result.

One of my favourite childhood dishes, that my Mum still makes when I visit, is peperonata. Ours was simply capsicums and potatoes, roasted with breadcrumbs and a good hit of olive oil: a magic combination. I’d always though that it would be fun to capture these flavours in pasta, but had never quite settled on how to do it. Do you focus on the potato or the capsicum? And then, suddenly, I remembered doppio ravioli. Perché non entrambi?

We’re regularly asked about gluten-free pasta, and to be honest the only reason that we haven’t blogged about it yet is that it feels a little too simple to put on a recipe card. Which of course is no reason at all. So this week, please accept our apologies for not posting it sooner, and enjoy our recipe for gluten-free reginette.

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.

This week we wanted to bring you a filled pasta dish that you can knock up in less than an hour; something packed with fresh flavour, and accompanied by a sauce that you can make without a single pot or pan. These simple pansotti, filled with rainbow chard, radicchio, mustard greens, marjoram, and ricotta are what we came up with. They’re served with a delicious walnut sauce that’s made entirely with a stick blender!

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.

Two of the clearest and most joyful memories that I have of my first visit to Italy, when I was four, are of me loudly pretending that I was being kidnapped as my dad tried to load me into the car across from the Colosseum, and sitting in the back seat of a cousin’s car as we hurtled through acres of olive trees in my nonna’s hometown of Melicuccà.

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.

Sausages are fantastic; what more is there to say? They’re a self-contained, considered balance of meat, fat, and spice. I can relate. And they’re versatile: as perfect slow-cooked in a stew or sauce as they are grilled and rolled up in a slice of white bread. Think of this deliberately uncomplicated pasta sauce as a celebration of the sausage-maker and their hard work. Or at least a really quick way to make a very flavourful ragu.