Pa-Pa-Pa, Pa-Pappardelle. The longest pasta.

I had fun tonight. It might have been messy, a little precarious at times, but lots of fun.

Pappardelle with a Ragu of Tiny Meatballs

I was feeling a little pressure. I had Ween coming for dinner, I’d been at work all day, I’d never made pasta before and worst of all, I hadn’t pre-read the recipe, so had no real idea what I was in for.

I’d warned Ween that we might be eating late (who knows how long pasta-making might take), so she pulled up a seat and kept me company while I set to work.

Did you know that pasta is just egg and 00 flour? So simple. Work it into a dough. And then knead it until it turns silky. Jamie says that the reason Italian mamas have such impressive guns (of the bicep variety) is because they make pasta and after tonight, I concur. Unseasonably warm weather or not, I worked up quite a sweat. Once you’ve got your silky pasta dough, the fun really starts. I cleared my bench, attached the pasta maker and started rolling. Again and again and again. And again.



Meanwhile Ween is enjoying Dancing with the Stars and beginning to think I’m a total weirdo for putting myself through this.

And still I’m putting the pasta through the rollers again. And again.

Finally, after a few almost breakages, some “quick Ween, help help!” moments and a hell of a lot of flour spread about my kitchen, we had some pretty nifty looking pappardelle. Belissimo. I was happy.



So while the pasta chilled in the fridge, I made the meatballs. The meatballs are meant to be tiny, the size of marbles. Well I’m sorry Jamie, but by this point in the evening I was sort of starting to lose my marbles and time was beginning to slip away, so not so tiny on the meatballs tonight. I whipped up the ragu (really easy and really tasty), cooked the chilled pasta for about two minutes then tossed it together.



It was absolutely delicious. I think Ween was impressed. And it was seriously good fun. I would’ve said good clean fun, but that would just be lying. For all the huffing and muttering and floured brow – call me an Italian mama perhaps? – the end result was worth every long minute spent rolling and kneading. And my guns are looking pretty svelte…

Xx