Homemade Pasta
Last weekend we went down to my parent's house in Red Hill. It had been so long since we had been down, my mind and body were craving a visit. As we drove amongst the tall trees I inhaled deeply, letting the chilly fresh air warm my bones. I was home. Saturday night we made pasta. A lot of pasta. Ravioli and pappardelle were on the menu. Usually I let Dad take the reins when making pasta, but this time I wanted in.
I wanted to feel the dough in my hands, to knead...
to let it rest...
and to roll...
Dad was helping me along the way...
And it was fabulous, truly so much fun. I'm surprised that making pasta wasn't on my list...I suppose I can tick it off anyway.
There's something about making your own pasta that is so primal to me. In the same way that making bread makes me feel like I'm completely great at life, like I'm doing something I was born to do, that is wholly natural. Bread represents the basic human need for nourishment, and I view pasta in the same way. Natural, wholesome goodness, the epitome of simple food. Making it is wonderfully cathartic and comforting.
How simple and beautiful is that?
I am seriously lusting after my own pasta machine. Ben and I bought mum and dad their Atlas one a few years ago for Christmas, and they're really happy with it. I only wish we'd bought two...
We served this pasta with a beautiful goat ragu (recipe link). It was rich, comforting and wholesome. The perfect meal, essentially.
I'm so excited to make my own pasta in the future, and let my inner nonna shine. I do so love to get my hands floury, and create comfort by hand. It's quite a beautiful process, don't you think?