Why Fresh Pasta Is Worth the Effort

There is a particular pleasure in a bowl of pasta you made yourself an hour earlier. It is not a restaurant trick and it does not need equipment. No rollers, no extruders, no countertop machinery cluttering up the cupboard. A board, a fork, a rolling pin and your own arms will do the job beautifully.

Fresh egg pasta is softer, more absorbent and quicker to cook than the dried stuff in the cupboard, and it takes sauce in a way that dried pasta never quite manages. It also freezes well, so a Saturday morning's work can stock you for weeks. Set aside an afternoon, make a mess, and you will be rewarded with silky ribbons and plump ravioli that taste unmistakably of eggs and effort.

Flour, Eggs and Very Little Else

Two ingredients do the heavy lifting: strong, finely milled flour and fresh eggs. Nothing else is required. No oil, no salt in the dough itself.

• Flour: Italian "00" flour is the classic choice. It is milled very fine, which gives a smoother, more elastic sheet. Plain flour works perfectly well; it simply needs a slightly longer rest.
• Eggs: Use the best you can. A large British hen's egg weighs roughly 60g in its shell, and the yolk is what gives pasta its golden colour and richness.
• Semolina: Keep this for dusting, not for the dough. Coarse semolina in particular stops the strands sticking without turning them chalky.

The ratio that will serve you for the rest of your cooking life is 100g of flour to one large egg. For two generous portions, weigh out 200g of flour and crack in two eggs. For four, double it. Weigh rather than guess, because eggs vary and a dough that starts wrong rarely forgives you.

If the mix feels dry after kneading, sprinkle in water a teaspoon at a time. If it is tacky and clings to your fingers, dust in flour. You are after a dough that is soft, faintly damp and smooth to the touch.

Mixing, Kneading and Resting

Tip the flour onto a clean worktop and make a wide well in the middle. Crack in the eggs and beat them with a fork, gradually drawing flour from the inner walls until a shaggy mass forms. If that feels precarious, simply mix everything in a bowl. It is less picturesque and considerably tidier.

Now knead. Push the dough away with the heel of your hand, fold it back over itself, give it a quarter turn and repeat. Ten minutes of this will feel like a long time and then, quite suddenly, the dough changes: it becomes smooth, springy and slightly glossy, like a warm pebble.

Then wrap it tightly in cling film, or sit a bowl over the top, and leave it at room temperature for at least 30 minutes. This rest matters. The gluten relaxes, the dough stops fighting back and rolling becomes markedly easier. It will keep happily in the fridge for a day; bring it back to room temperature before rolling.

Rolling a Sheet by Hand

A long, heavy rolling pin is genuinely helpful here, because its weight does some of the work for you. Work on a large surface, very lightly dusted.

Cut the dough into two or three pieces and keep the rest wrapped. Flatten one piece with the palm of your hand, then roll from the middle outwards, away from you and back towards you, keeping the pin parallel to the edge. Lift the sheet, turn it a quarter turn, and roll again. After a dozen passes an oval will emerge. Keep turning and rolling.

The sheet will spring back and resist at first. This is normal; continue and it will submit. Dust sparingly as you work, flipping the sheet now and then, but resist the urge to be generous with flour. Too much and the pasta slides away from the sauce instead of clinging to it.

Aim for a sheet about 1mm thin — thin enough that you can see the faint shadow of your hand through it. For tagliatelle that is right. For ravioli, go a shade thinner still.

Shaping: Ribbons, Pillows and Little Bows

• Tagliatelle: Dust the sheet well with semolina, roll it up loosely like a flat swiss roll, then cut across into 6–8mm ribbons with a sharp knife. Shake them out and toss with more semolina.
• Pappardelle: Exactly the same method, cut 2cm wide. These sturdy ribbons stand up to a rich ragù.
• Ravioli: Lay one sheet down and dot teaspoonfuls of filling at 4cm intervals. Brush between the mounds with water or beaten egg, lay a second sheet over the top, and press firmly around each filling, easing out any trapped air. Cut with a knife or pastry wheel.
• Farfalle: Cut the sheet into 4cm by 3cm rectangles and pinch each one firmly in the middle.

Let the shapes dry on a semolina-dusted tray for 20 to 30 minutes before cooking. To freeze, open-freeze on the tray, then bag them up. Cook from frozen, adding a minute to the time.

Cooking, Dressing and Serving

Bring a large pan of well-salted water to a hard rolling boil. Fresh pasta cooks in two to four minutes — taste a strand at two and trust your teeth rather than the clock. Before draining, scoop out a mugful of the cooking water.

Now finish the pasta in the pan, not on the plate. Melt a good knob of butter in a wide pan, add a splash of that starchy water, tip in the drained pasta and toss hard for a minute until every strand is glossy and coated. That water is what turns butter into a sauce rather than a puddle.

• Spring: Wild garlic butter, blanched peas, lemon zest and a grating of pecorino.
• Summer: Ripe tomatoes left with salt and torn basil, good olive oil, mozzarella stirred through at the end.
• Autumn: Sage browned in butter with roasted squash and toasted hazelnuts.
• Winter: A slow-braised beef or mushroom ragù, finished with a spoonful of double cream.

Your first attempt may be a little thick and uneven. Your second will be better, and by the third you will wonder why you ever bought the dried sort. Keep a note of how the dough felt in your hands and how thin you managed to roll it. Warm kitchens give sticky dough, cold ones give stubborn dough, and both are easily corrected. Serve at once, in warmed bowls, with the sauce ready and waiting — that, more than any gadget, is what makes the difference.