It’s time for a post that we’ve been working on for a little while now. In fact, it’s been in the works for around 6 months. Near the end of last year, we decided to build a little seedling nursery in the garage, and teach ourselves how to grow a whole heap of perfect chillies. This is a step-by-step guide — everything you need to know — of how to grow your own!

You’d know by now that Pasta et Al is all about mindful food. We source locally and seasonally, and buy all things grass-fed, free-range, unpackaged, and covered in soil. And when we’re not making pasta, we grow things, ferment things, jar things, and spend a lot of our time talking about things like permaculture, aquaponics, silvopasture, microbiomes, and regenerative agriculture. We’re a little bunch of passionate food-loving nerds, and this week we’re delighted to introduce our equally passionate regen ag friends at Dirty Clean Food.

Tomato Day this year only happened because I’m notoriously bad at reading and responding to messages. In the space of 24 hours we somehow pulled it all together. My uncle was immediately up for the challenge, and had a guy lined up by the end of the day with probably the last Romas in Australia. My mum grabbed some regular tomatoes and came straight around from work so that we could use them to clean out the machine, my cousin made early-morning plans to turn up with her baby and mum in tow, my brother drove 2.5 hours in the dark in a breaking down car, and my startled father-in-law, by chance visiting from Sydney, found himself swept up in the unstoppable momentum of Tomato Day 2023.

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!

Though perhaps a little late in life, and unhelpfully complicated by life’s realities, if I could choose someone to be when I grow up, without a doubt I’d be Inspector Montalbano. Aside from pleasantly relatable traits, such as his warranted, weary grouchiness and exaggerated hand gestures, Montalbano is a man who pays food the respect that it deserves.

Tomato day. This week it’s something so exciting and close to my heart that it was hard knowing where to start. In fact, it’s so deeply enmeshed with who I am that I juggled joy and a hard lump in my throat as I tried to put it into words. After almost two decades, we’re bringing back tomato day!

As much as we love a light pasta dish, there is something incomparably comforting about a slow-cooked, thick tomato sauce. It’s been a while since we featured a good old ragu, so this week we’re cooking up a pot of short ribs. Nothing tricky, nothing fancy, just a nice long sit in the oven.

One of the most common cuts of meat growing up was the trusty osso bucco. It’s an Italian classic. Along with those irresistible thin Italian sausages and finely-sliced girello, it was the reason for semi-regular hour and a half round trips to the butcher on the other side of town. You can’t trust just any old butcher with your meat. Particularly if you’re an Italian family with fiercely baseless providore allegiances.

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.

There’s nothing like cooking with fresh, carefully sourced ingredients, but it’s not always that easy. Sometimes you just need a dish that you can make from tins and cans and a handful of greens. This time around, as I peeked into the cupboard, I was really in the mood for beans.

Let me tell you about my obsession with bone broth. I’ve never been particularly excited by soup, although I’d concede to the odd stew or thick blend of veggies. I certainly had no time for anything watery, and thin stocks weren’t even up for discussion. Then I discovered bone broth. This magnificent golden friend, silky and smooth to eat, wobbly like jelly when it’s set, and packed with flavour both deep and subtle at the same time.

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.

The best things in life are often simple. It’s with great pleasure that we spend a whole afternoon making pasta, but with even greater pleasure that we remember the sugo to go with it will only take half an hour to make. This is our super quick and tasty tomato and basil sauce.

Slow cooked meat. Oh yeah. A surefire way to a satisfying meal is simple ingredients, cooked for a long time. And meat. I remember a couple of decades back, the last giant family party that I think we had. The kind that has so many ‘uncles’ and ‘cousins’ that you’re reminded of the fact that they’re actually placeholder titles used to avoid convoluted explanations of exactly who’s brother’s great-uncle-in-law you’re talking to, and that actually you can’t remember.

Here’s one that comes from the heart. This is our signature family sugo: meatballs in tomato sauce. It’s the sauce that bubbled away quietly in the background every Sunday, filling the house with delicious anticipation; it’s the sauce that simply holds everything together. In fact, when I talk about pasta and what it means to me, this is the sugo that I think of.