Crapiata comes from Matera, Basilicata. It was historically prepared on the first of August using whatever grains and legumes remained from the previous winter — a communal dish tied to the harvest, made from whatever was left. The name is Materan dialect. The idea is simple: mix, cook slowly, and wait.
No stock. No shortcuts. The liquid turns creamy on its own, from the starches released by the grains and legumes over a long, gentle cook. Patience is the technique.
This recipe started with leftover sheep’s ricotta from a course. Throwing good ingredients away goes against every instinct I have, so I thought of gnudi with leeks — one of those combinations that just works.
The problem is gnudi are unforgiving. The ratios need to be precise, and working with ingredients that aren’t exactly measured is a gamble I wasn’t willing to take. So I kept the same mixture, shaped it with two spoons, and put it in the oven instead. What came out surprised me — matte outside, soft inside, holding together perfectly. The oven turned out to be the better idea all along.
Ligurian rabbit is one of those dishes that rewards patience without asking for complexity. The recipe comes from the Ponente Ligure — the western stretch of the Ligurian coast, where Taggiasca olives grow on steep terraced hillsides and appear in almost everything worth eating.
A timeless Italian classic born from cucina povera wisdom: tender meatballs made from leftover boiled or roasted meat, coated in a golden crust and optionally simmered in a rich tomato sauce. Simple, flavourful, and nothing goes to waste.
Some of the most rewarding dishes in my kitchen come from necessity. A cooking class, a handful of guests with celiac disease, and a bag of buckwheat flour — that’s all it took to fall in love with this pasta.
Buckwheat tagliatelle have a character you don’t forget: earthy, slightly nutty, with a rustic texture that holds sauce beautifully. And the best part? No gluten, no compromise. Just real, handmade pasta that happens to be naturally inclusive.
The dough takes a little patience — this isn’t semolina, and it won’t behave like it. But once you understand it, once you feel it come together under your hands, the reward is worth every minute. Dress it simply: clarified butter, fresh sage, a spoonful of pasta water. Let the buckwheat do the talking.
A classic Neapolitan comfort dish: pasta cooked directly with potatoes until creamy and rich, flavored with a simple soffritto, rosemary, tomato paste, and a Parmesan rind. Traditionally it’s made with pasta mista—a mix of leftover pasta shapes—because the recipe was born as a way to use up what you had on hand. Even though in Italy you can buy ready-made pasta mista, any short pasta works perfectly, true to the original spirit of making it with whatever is in the pantry.
A quick, seasonal pasta that hits all the right notes: sweet cherry tomatoes, tender fava beans, and crispy pancetta, finished with thyme and salty Pecorino. Bright, savory, and ready in under an hour.
Cenci are a typical Tuscan dessert we make during Carnival, basically they are aromatized fried dough rags (cenci means rags in Tuscany).
They are crunchy and sweet, thanks to the powder sugar topping, and instantly bring back my child memories (it looks like it does the same to my daughters 😁).
This fennel and orange salad is a classic Sicilian winter side: crisp, bright, and naturally light. Finished with Riviera olives, paper-thin Tropea onion, and a splash of orange juice, it pairs beautifully with both fish and meat.
Recipe by Carlo
