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This recipe makes a lot of ragù, but it freezes well and is worth having around. If making the gnocchi feels like a project, serve over polenta instead.
- 5 pounds oxtails, cut crosswise into pieces
- 2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
- 2 tablespoons Diamond Crystal or 1 tablespoon Morton kosher salt, plus more
- 2 large carrots, peeled, chopped
- 1 head of garlic, cloves separated, smashed
- 1 15-ounce can crushed tomatoes
- ¼ cup red wine vinegar or Sherry vinegar
Gnocchi and Assembly
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 1 cup fine-grind semolina flour
- 1 cup finely grated Parmesan, plus more for serving
- ¼ cup finely chopped parsley
Toss oxtails, flour, pepper, 2 Tbsp. or 1 Tbsp. salt in a large bowl until oxtails are evenly coated. Heat oil in a large heavy pot over medium-high. Working in batches, cook oxtails in a single layer, turning occasionally, until browned all over, 15–20 minutes. Transfer oxtails to a plate as they’re done.
Cook onion, carrots, celery, garlic, and rosemary in same pot, stirring often, until vegetables are browned around edges, 10–15 minutes. Add wine, tomatoes, vinegar, and honey, stirring and scraping up browned bits; bring to a boil. Season with several generous pinches of salt and return oxtails to pot. Pour in water just to cover oxtails; bring to a gentle simmer. Partially cover and cook, reducing heat as needed to keep at a bare simmer, until meat is falling off the bone, 3–3½ hours. Let cool; cover and chill at least 12 hours.
Do Ahead: Ragù can be made 2 days ahead. Cover and chill, or freeze up to 4 weeks.
Gnocchi and Assembly
Line a 13x9" baking dish with parchment paper, leaving overhang on 2 sides. Bring milk, butter, and several pinches of salt to a simmer in a large saucepan over medium. Gradually whisk in semolina and cook, whisking, until very thick and bubbling, about 3 minutes. Remove from heat; add 1 cup Parmesan and whisk until smooth. Whisk in egg yolk and scrape gnocchi mixture into prepared pan; smooth top. Cover and chill until set, at least 2 hours and up to 12 hours.
Meanwhile, remove ragù from fridge and skim fat from surface. Warm ragù over low until heated through, then transfer oxtails to a plate. Increase heat to medium and bring braising liquid to a simmer. Cook until reduced to the consistency of gravy, 5–10 minutes. Taste and season with more salt if needed. Pick meat from bones and shred into small pieces. Return meat to ragù; discard bones. Transfer 2 cups ragù to an airtight container and save for later. Cover pot; keep remaining ragù warm over low heat.
Turn out gnocchi mixture onto a clean surface and remove parchment paper; slice into about 1" squares.
Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium. Add half of gnocchi to skillet, arrange in a single layer, and cook, undisturbed, until browned and crisp underneath, about 3 minutes. Toss to turn and cook until other side is browned and crisp, about 2 minutes. Spoon into pot with ragù. Repeat with remaining gnocchi. Gently toss gnocchi in ragù; season with more salt if needed. Divide among bowls; top with parsley and more Parmesan.
Nutritional ContentCalories (kcal) 700Fat (g) 33Saturated Fat (g) 8Cholesterol (mg) 60Carbohydrates (g)37Dietary Fiber (g)2Total Sugars (g) 12Protein (g) 45Sodium (mg) 1000Reviews SectionMade this tonight and it was EXCELLENT. I was short on time so I made it in a day speeding up the time in my pressure cooker (would've been better a day before with scooping the fat off, but I thought my 3-hour lead time on dinner would suffice — whoops!), and I omitted celery because celery is trash. Also, just made the ragu and served it over pasta. Lived in Italy for many years and it was really yummy and reminded me of many Bologna-style pastas I had there!katiecurridphotKansas City, MO04/13/20
52 Weeks of Jamie
This week's meal was so exciting to make and eat! A few months ago a friend brought into work some oxtail stew for lunch and I was intrigued! I enjoy using different cuts of meat and usually the scraps such as these can be oh so tasty! This was a recipe that was developed at one of Jamie's Fifteen restaurants and it is definitely worth the wait! Like most stews it's really little effort just the time it takes working the magic.
I have also been wanting to try some pasta or gnocchi for a while and was amazed at how good it turned out. In this case I did not have a ricer so grated my potatoes instead (after a little research) and this worked quite well with very few lumps. I think next time I will aim to buy a ricer for that smoother mouth feel.
The oxtail is the hero of the dish with a rich flavoursome stew and the gnocchi gives it a variance in texture which was a delight to eat, 10/10 all round!
Recipe: Gnocchi with Braised Oxtail
For the Gnocchi
6 medium potatoes
½ a nutmeg, grated
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 large free range egg yolk
1-2 handfulls of plain or 00 flour
For the Braised Oxtail
1 oxtail, cur into 10cm/4 inch chunks
1 stick celery. finely chopped
1 onion, peeled and finely chopped
1 carrot, peeled and finely chopped
1 leek, trimmed and finely chopped
½ a bottle of white wine
1 tablespoon fennel seeds, crushed
1 tablespoon juniper berries, crushed
½ a cinnamon stick
1 dried red chilli, crushed
sea salt and black pepper
1 large tablespoon tomato puree
4 x 400g tins plum tomatoes
1 tablespoon fresh oregano leaves
a handful of fresh sage leaves
a knob of butter
optional: parmesan cheese
Preheat oven to 220 ° c. Rub potatoes with olive oil, prick them with a fork and lay them in a roasting tray. Put in the preheated oven and bake for an our until the potatoes are fluffy on the inside and crispy on the outside. Allow them to cool slightly then when they are still nice and hot, use a tea towel to pick up your potatoes one at a time, cut them in half and carefully scoop the flesh out of the skins into a mouli or ricer. When you have a lovely and smooth mashed potto put it into a bowl. Add the nutmeg, a tablespoon of salt, a pinch of pepper, the egg yolk and enough of the flour to bind your mixture - you may not need much at all (I needed a lot). Mix together and kneed with your hands until you have a dry doughy consistency. Add a little water or flour if needed. If unsure test one by chucking it in some boiling water - if it falls apart, add a but more flour to the dough.
Once you have your gnocchi dough, divide it into 3 pieces and roll each piece out on a floured surface into long tubes the thickness of a sausage, cut each of the tubes into 2.5cm/1 inch pieces. Place them on a bed of semolina flour on a tray and put in the fridge for at least 10-20 minutes to set.
Once the gnocchi is in the fridge reduce the heat to 150 ° c . Get a large ovenproof saucepan hot and add a splash of olive oil. Sear the oxtail until brown on all sides, then add the celery, onion, carrot and leek. Cook gently until golden brown and add the wine an your crushed spices, cinnamon, chilli, tomato puree and the tins of tomatoes. Top up with a little water - you just need enough to cover the meat - and put a lid on. Put the pan in the oven for 4 to 4 ½ hours, until the meat is falling off the bone. Remove from the oven and lift the meat out of the stew.
When cool enough to handle, shred all the meat off the bones. Pick through the meat with your fingers to make sure that no bony bits remain, then put the meat back in the pot. Add the oregano, simmer for 15 minutes and season to taste. Meanwhile, put a pan of salted water on to boil and cook your gnocchi for 4 minutes, or until they float. While your gnocchi are cooking, fry the sage leaves in the butter until crispy and dark green, then drain them on kitchen paper. Carefully drain your gnocchi, toss in the oxtail stew with some fried sage leaves and serve with some freshly shaved parmesan if you like.
Changes Made: Grating my potato rather than using a ricer.
Results: Absolutely amazing.. put down the computer and start to cook!
Next Time: May try to invest in a ricer as they are cheap these days and would have made life much easier.
Bring milk, coarse salt, and nutmeg to simmer in heavy large saucepan over medium heat. Turn heat to very low gradually whisk in semolina. Cook until mixture is very thick, whisking constantly, 1 to 2 minutes. Remove from heat. Whisk in egg yolks, then Parmesan cheese and 2 tablespoons butter.
Pour semolina into 13x9x2-inch baking pan spread evenly. Cover pan tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 4 hours. DO AHEAD: Semolina can be made 2 days ahead. Keep chilled.
Preheat oven to 400F. Coat large rimmed baking sheet with remaining 1 tablespoon butter. Cut chilled semolina into twelve 3-inch squares. Carefully arrange semolina squares on prepared baking sheet, spacing apart. Bake gnocchi until bottoms brown, about 15 minutes.
Oxtail Ragù with Semolina Gnocchi - Recipes
Gnocchi for breakfast? It’s a pasta lover’s delight.
Eggs, tomatoes, pesto and cheese create an Italian breakfast bake‚—so good and versatile that you can serve it for lunch and dinner, too (photo #1).
Thanks to DeLallo for the recipe. You can purchase authentic Italian ingredients on the DeLallo website, including a kit to make your own gnocchi from scratch.
We bought ours ready-to-cook, but here’s a gnocchi recipe to make without the kit.
Whatever meal you choose, serve the gnocchi bake with a side salad, lightly dressed in vinaigrette.
Ingredients For 4-6 Servings
RECIPE: BAKED EGGS WITH GNOCCHI & PESTO
Ingredients For 4-6 Servings
1. PREHEAT the oven to 375°F and grease a 9-by-9-inch square pan.
2. BRING a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook the gnocchi according to package directions. Drain and set aside.
3. WHISK together the eggs, milk, salt, and pesto. Place the gnocchi in the prepared pan and cover with the egg mixture. Drop heaping spoonsful of ricotta onto the mixture, placing them as evenly as possible throughout the pan.
4. PLACE the tomatoes between dollops of ricotta. Sprinkle with the parmesan and bake until the eggs are completely set and starting to brown, about 30 minutes.
5. REMOVE from the oven and let cool for 10 minutes before serving.
THE HISTORY OF GNOCCHI
A classic Italian pasta, these pillowy potato dumplings (photo #3) delight many pasta lovers.
The word “gnocchi” (pronounced N’YAW-kee) has an unknown origin, but it may have derived from the Italian word nocca, meaning knuckle.
Another possibility is the Italian word nocchio, meaning a knot in wood.
Gnocchi has been a traditional type of Italian pasta—the shape is probably of Middle Eastern origin—since Roman times. It was introduced by the Roman legions during the expansion of the empire into the countries of the European continent.
In Roman times, gnocchi were made from a semolina porridge-like dough mixed with eggs [source].
Gnocchi were the perfect peasant food, both filling and inexpensive. Before the potato version was created, gnocchi were made with ingredients such as breadcrumbs and squash.
The use of potato is a relatively recent innovation, occurring after the introduction of the potato to Europe in the 16th century (it was one of the food discoveries in the New World).
 Gnocchi and eggs for breakfast (photos #1 and #2 © DeLallo).
 You can purchase ready-to-cook gnocchi, or make your own from scratch with this kit from DeLallo.
While gnocchi are dumplings, we like to include them in the group called pillow pasta, stuffed with a pillowy filling. (Ravioli is a pillow pasta. What other varieties can you name? Click the link.)
Introduced to different regions of Italy, gnocchi became made variously of semolina, potato or sweet potato with optional cheese or eggs added to the dough and optionally flavored with basil, saffron, spinach or tomato. Today, pumpkin is an option.
The most common way to prepare gnocchi today is to combine mashed potatoes with flour, although modern variations add different cheeses—goat, gorgonzola, ricotta, Parmigiano-Reggiano. In addition to the flavors noted above, creative chefs make gnocchi in beet, butternut squash, carrot, sweet potato and other flavors.
They can be served mixed with vegetables (asparagus, broccoli rabe, cherry tomatoes mushrooms, peas, spinach, etc.) and proteins (chicken, clams, ham, pancetta, sausage).
Depending on their flavor, gnocchi pair with many sauces, from simple butter and parmesan or tomato to oxtail or pork ragù. One of our favorites is brown butter with crispy fried sage.
Lazian and Roman recipes
Roman recipes, historically, are born out of resourcefulness. Lazio is not only home to Italy's capital, it is also the traditional home of la cucina povera – the kitchen of the poor – and you'll find much of the food in this region revolves around making the most of rustic ingredients. Nothing goes to waste in Rome – offcuts of pork are preserved as salumi semolina and durum wheat flours are used for pasta and gnocchi and both curds and whey are used for cheesemaking.
More than anywhere else in the country, pasta is a staple of Roman cuisine, and dishes such as Spaghetti alla carbonara and Pasta e ceci alla Romana are typical of the city. You'll also find Penne all'arrabbiata is commonplace in Lazio, though it doesn't originate in Rome itself.
Romans and Lazians do summer dishes particularly well too, thanks to their perfect climate. Amy Gulick's Pollo alla Romana is perfect for a balmy summer's day, and Valeria Necchio's Vignarola is a lovely, summery lunch dish – broad beans, peas and artichokes are all common in Lazio in the summer, so save this one for the height of the season when the ingredients are at their best.
Feeling inspired? Scroll down to take a look at our full collection of Roman and Lazian recipes.
The Best Cookbooks for Making Fresh Pasta
Niki Achitoff-Gray the editor-in-chief at Serious Eats and a graduate of the Institute of Culinary Education. She's pretty big into oysters, offal, and most edible things.
When you hear "fresh pasta" what comes to mind? For me, it's a bowl of delicate linguine, dressed in little more than olive oil, black pepper, and Parmesan cheese. Or tender ravioli with scalloped edges and a smooth squash filling, sauced in brown butter and aromatic herbs. Maybe some precocious tortellini, bobbing in broth.
But fresh pasta is so much more than those iconic shapes: There's the candy bowl twists of caramelle and ropey rings of lorighitta ridge-spined gnocchi sardi and the pleated origami folds of culurgiones. And for each of Italy's dozens upon dozens of pasta shapes, there are variations from region to region, household to household, and season to season. The world of fresh pasta is vast and robust, impassioned and opinionated, and completely, utterly delightful. And if you like to play with your food, I can't think of a better way to do it than with pasta.
But here's the thing: pasta is also intimidating. It's technical and specific and surprisingly difficult to learn about—with a couple of exceptions (the now out-of-print Bugialli on Pasta and Beard on Pasta come to mind), reliable pasta resources are plain limited. It took me culinary school and months of crazed recipe testing to become as well-versed as I am. and I'll be the first to admit that I still have loads to learn. Fresh pasta has long been relegated to a chapter in more expansive Italian cookbooks, or more cursory online explorations (my very own writings on the subject included).
But that's starting to change. The last few years have seen a surge of comprehensive texts from dough-obsessed chefs all about pasta, which offer more detail and recipes than a broader cookbook ever could. The best of these books offer more than basic techniques and classic recipes: pasta, they emphasize, is a lens through which to think about food in the broadest possible way.
There are plenty of solid texts out there, but the following four are my very favorites: the most reliable, thorough texts on the market. Each is unique, and if you have room on your shelf for all four, you won't regret buying them all. But if you're looking to dip a toe in the pasta-making waters or up your already-solid game, I'll tell you which book will be just right for you.
The Jack of All Trades: Mastering Pasta, by Marc Vetri
I'm loathe to play favorites, but Marc Vetri's Mastering Pasta: The Art and Practice of Handmade Pasta, Gnocchi, and Risotto may just be the perfect pasta book. If you're looking for one definitive primer on pasta-making in its myriad forms, this is it. In part that's precisely because Vetri isn't trying to be the final word on pasta. "There is no right or wrong way," he explains. "There is just the way it's been done for centuries and the way it has evolved."
This concept is a driving force behind the book, and Vetri at once embraces tradition and interrogates it. Along the way, he paints pasta-making as accessible, infinitely variable, but nonetheless scientific. There is no single perfect dough in Vetri's world—"The great thing about pasta is that it's an open book," he exclaims. "You can flavor it almost any way you like." But while he encourages you to play with different flours and seasonings to discover that versatility first-hand, Vetri also arms you with the tools and knowledge that allow for controlled, intelligent experimentation and exploration—explanations of gluten development, the role of fats, and the importance of hydration—before sending you into the fray.
What really sets Mastering Pasta apart from its fellows is its well-illustrated techniques. Superlative step-by-step photographs take the guesswork out of potentially intimidating fundamentals like mixing and kneading dough, as well as more intricate tasks like pleating teardrops of corn and cheese-stuffed culurgiones—these simply aren't projects first-timers want to take on without visual aides.
And Vetri's recipes are well worth the effort. Though you'll find plenty of classic recipes—think tagliatelle in a rich bolognese sauce, ricotta ravioli, or garganelli alla carbonara—others embrace modern twists, like branzino-stuffed ravioli in a tomato-butter sauce and pappardelle tossed in a gamey rabbit ragù with acid-sweet, juicy peaches. Better yet, take a gander at his flavored pastas the sensory experience is overwhelming, even in print. There's earthy porcini pasta smothered in a snail and mushroom ragù nutty pistachio fettucine with artichokes and smoky ropes of pimentón-spiked linguine topped with baby octopus, an Iberico ham-flavored broth, and prized Marcona almonds. For the intimidated amongst you: yes, to get perfect, attractive results on one's own may take a few tries. But in Vetri's world, trial and error is the point. His job is to give you the confidence to find out for yourself.
For Perfectionists Who Love Their Produce: Flour + Water, by Thomas McNaughton
Where Vetri's book is organized by method—sheet pasta, stuffed pasta, extruded pasta, and so forth—seasonality is the emphasis in Flour + Water: Pasta. It's hardly a surprise given the eponymous San Francisco restaurant's reputation for excellent Italian food with a focus on regional California ingredients. For the reader interested in learning new pasta-making techniques, that makes it a somewhat less practical read. But if you're interested in knowing what pasta to make for dinner after your trip to the farmers market, author and chef Thomas McNaughton's book will be right up your alley.
"In most cases," explains McNaughton, "the recipes are just base models that can—and should—be tweaked once you learn the technique." But while he encourages experimentation with ingredients and sauces, he's more conservative when he comes to his dough. There's a precision and dogma to his dough recipes that might be a little intimidating for a novice: "It's crucial to remember that whenever the pasta dough is not in plastic wrap or under a damp towel, you're in a race against time," he cautions sternly. With no proverbial pats on the back or reassurances that pasta's anyone's game, this is a book perhaps better suited to someone who's tried their hand at pasta-making before. Similarly, the photography, while gorgeous, isn't consistently informative—collages of images sometimes lose their instructive tone in favor of aesthetic appeal.
That said, the very same precision that can make McNaughton's recipes intimidating also engenders a deep sense of trust. There's little left to chance, with exceedingly clear and concise instructions. Which is a relief, because these are most certainly dishes you want to recreate: for summer, feather-light folds of triangoli stuffed with whipped burrata and mint are served in a sauce of squash blossoms, summer squash, preserved lemon, and pistachios. Fall captures squid ink strips of chitarra, tossed with sea urchin, tomatoes, squid, and Calabrian chilies in a garlicky white wine sauce. Come winter, you can feast on pappardelle with braised goat shoulder, anchovies, and kale, or oxtail lasagna fragrant with rosemary. Spring is bright, with a festive plate of beet-filled casonsei topped with baby beets and poppy seeds.
My one pet peeve? The type in this book is small. You can't glance from your countertop to a recipe and return to your place easily, and for this reason, I'd say it's better suited to armchair reading or an e-reader, where you can easily enlarge type. On the bright side, an armchair read will let you dive into and savor the headnotes and one-page vignettes scattered throughout the pages—vivid scenes from Italy, humorous lessons learned, and odes to specialized ingredients make this as much a work of creative non-fiction as it is a recipe collection.
In Crown Heights, Malfatti for the Trilbys
THIRTEEN years ago, no one in Manhattan went to Brooklyn for dinner by choice. You had to dangle Peter Luger as bait, and a car service back to “the city,” or at least an escort to the subway.
Then Emiliano Coppa and Anna Klinger, a Venetian and an American who had fallen in love in Italy and settled in Brooklyn, opened Al di Là in Park Slope.
Not the Birkenstocked, literati part of Park Slope, but Fifth Avenue, at that time a dodgy strip of boarded-up windows, five-and-dimes and unconvincing Chinese takeout.
I dined at Al di Là not long after it opened. I can’t claim some gastronomic second sense: I was dragged by a Brooklynite friend, and groused all the way down from the Upper West Side. I remember feeling grateful, and humbled, as I ate chubby little malfatti, pasta-less dumplings of ricotta and Swiss chard, naked as larvae, and sublime. Amanda Hesser wrote an encomium to those malfatti in The New York Times a few years later. In 2006, Frank Bruni gave Al di Là two stars.
The malfatti remain on the menu. And since January, they’ve also been appearing at Bar Corvo, Al di Là’s new outpost on the Crown Heights side of Washington Avenue.
This is canary-in-the-coal-mine territory, culinarily speaking. Real estate agents have tried to relabel the area ProCro, hitching its star to the more gentrified Prospect Heights. Bar Corvo declares its allegiance with its name: Corvo, Italian for “crow,” is a salute to Crow Hill, as the northern end of Crown Heights was historically known.
Ms. Klinger is chef here, as at Al di Là, but she cannot be in two places at once. Her longtime protégée, Carla Martinez, is in charge of the day to day.
Al di Là’s greatest hits are reprised, at a slight discount. Chitarra neri, squid-ink pasta cut with wire, come entwined with octopus tentacles, crushed tomatoes and torn mint ($16). A spring edition of farro salad is earthy and bright, swirled with peas, almonds and ricotta salata ($9). The details seduce: sunny shards of orange confit amid pink whorls of calamari ($10) fried capers embedded in a slab of meaty, charred cauliflower ($8) a riot of horseradish curls atop a magisterial pork chop ($18).
Tweaks have been made. Here the malfatti are dressed with olive oil and walnuts in lieu of brown butter and sage ($14). They are still perfect.
Not everything is. On one visit, duck-leg confit ($17) was dry. Tagliatelle al ragù ($15), an Al di Là perennial, was immobilized by cheese.
And Bar Corvo is less daring than its predecessor. As of yet, no tripe is on the menu, no rabbit or calf liver. Oxtail ragù lacks the briny cuttlefish that makes it a contrapuntal tour de force at Al di Là. Nevertheless, it is unfathomably rich, ladled over semolina gnocchi, then baked until the pasta has a crisp outer rim and a core as creamy as polenta ($15).
Al di Là has always been run like a mom-and-pop, with Mr. Coppa at the front of the house and Ms. Klinger in the kitchen. Bar Corvo doesn’t feel as personal. Where the original trattoria is cozily shabby, with peeling wallpaper, swagged velvet and mismatched china, Bar Corvo is sleek, almost studied. This is how the young folk like it these days: funnel-shaped industrial lamps, salvaged-wood tables. Cutouts in the wall frame layers of excavated paint. It is handsome, in that Brooklyn skinny-jeans-and-trilby way.
Bar Corvo is not quite a destination restaurant, just the restaurant everybody wants in their neighborhood. But if its food doesn’t seem completely revelatory, that is only because we are spoiled in Brooklyn now. (Yes, I moved.) You don’t have to go all the way to Crown Heights to find great Italian cuisine. There is Roman’s in Fort Greene, Franny’s on Flatbush.
And that old place on the corner of Fifth and Carroll — what was its name?
Jono & Jules do food & wine
Gnochetti sardi is a Sardinian pasta shape which is shaped like gnocchi but made of durum wheat semolina and no eggs. It is a staple in Sardinia and usually prepared with a heavy tomato based ragù or sauce made with beef, lamb or sausage. The ragù clings to the heavy ridged pasta shape.
If you can’t find gnochetti sardi then another short pasta shape, like penne, will do. This will serve 4 as a main course but stretches to many more as a first course which is how we like to serve it.
Sardinian Pasta with Sausage and Tomato Sauce – to serve 4
- 500g bag of gnocchetti sardi pasta
- 15g dried porcini
- 3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
- 1 onion, finely chopped
- ½ tsp crushed dried chillies
- 1 tsp fennel seeds, lightly crushed
- 350g Italian sausages or other meaty pork sausages
- 120 ml dry white wine
- 400g tin chopped tomatoes
- Pecorino or Parmesan to serve
Soak the porcini mushrooms in 100ml of boiling water for about 30 minutes. Drain the mushrooms and chop but don’t throw away the soaking liquid as you’ll need it later.
Bring a really large pan of salted water to the boil. Meanwhile, skin the sausages and break the meat up into little pieces.
Heat the oil in a large frying pan, then add the onion, garlic, chilies and fennel seeds and fry gently until nicely coloured.
Add the sausagemeat and mushrooms and continue to fry for another 5 minutes. Add the wine and bubble for a couple of minutes to reduce, then add the tomatoes and mushroom soaking liquid. Season well with salt and pepper. Leave the sauce to simmer for about half an hour.
Cook the pasta according to the pack, then drain and add to the sauce. Pass around the cheese and let people help themselves.
Drink with: the Sardinian red wines would work a treat, especially the ones made from Cannonau or Carignano. These two grape varieties are better known as Grenache and Carignan, so if there are no Sardinian gems in the local, find something made from these grapes and you’ll have a match.