Semolina—yeah, we get it, it’s a bit of a love-hate thing. And we know why: flashbacks to dodgy school puddings that were overly sweet, gloopy, and borderline inedible. One of our grandmothers, for reasons that still mystify us, used lemon essence in her semolina despite having a fruit-laden lemon tree right outside her kitchen window. Go figure…

Welcome to our pasta party in a cake tin! (Or frying pan, if you prefer… we did). This is SO easy to whip up and makes a change from the usual pasta dinner. Plus, it’s a bit of a blank slate: you can throw some sun-dried tomatoes, chopped olives, chopped salami, capers, anchovies or fresh basil through the mixture before baking...

Guilty as charged, Your Honour: there are a lot of ‘or to tastes’ going on here. While you might see these as a recipe-writing cop out, we see them as giving you the freedom to lavish lemon, parmesan, nutmeg, basil and whatnot on your pasta as you jolly well see fit. You might like things tarter, puckery-er, cheesier...

If you’re looking at this recipe and wondering why we just didn’t use chicken mince, it’s because we don’t like it. Like, we r-e-a-l-l-y don’t like it. That stuff you get from the supermarket? It’s mushy, pallid and has a really sloppy texture and who knows what sad part of the bird it actually comes from. So yeah, we chop our own…

The assignment? To turn a whole heap of English spinach into something everyone would love, and that wasn’t too, you know, spinachy. An overload of spinach tastes ever so slightly metallic. Spinach soup doesn’t ring my bells…

Here’s a cheese-heavy pasta dish that’s the kind of simple thing to make when you can’t be arsed to properly cook… which, if you’re anything like us, is maybe quite often.  All you do is cook some dried pasta (a tube-y one works great), then heave it into a large pan with some of the pasta cooking water, lemon, herbs, ricotta, a bit…