Naples: Pasta Cooking Class & Ravioli with Grandma’s Recipes

4.88

(505 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

The first thing that hit me was the smell — flour dust in the air, a bit of basil on someone’s hands, and this warm tomato scent that sort of wrapped around us as we walked into the kitchen. We were maybe eight or nine people, all strangers at first, but our chef (I think her name was Giulia?) made it feel like we’d just dropped by her family’s house. She had this way of clapping her hands together before showing us how to crack eggs right into the flour mound — I got some on my shirt, but she just grinned and said that meant good luck for the pasta. I believed her.

We started rolling dough for fettuccine, and honestly, mine looked more like shoelaces than noodles at first. The guy next to me — he was from Manchester — tried to help but ended up laughing harder than I did. Giulia told us about her nonna’s ravioli recipe while we pinched little pockets of ricotta and pepper. There was a moment when everyone went quiet except for the sound of knives tapping boards and sauce bubbling on the stove. You could hear street noise outside too, scooters buzzing past and someone singing (badly) from a window above.

I didn’t expect to love the appetizer so much — fresh fior di latte cheese with olive oil and these tiny tomatoes that tasted like sunshine. When we finally sat down together with our plates of pasta (fettuccine Alfredo first, then those ravioli swimming in San Marzano tomato sauce), it felt less like a class and more like a dinner party where nobody cared if your noodles were wonky. Someone poured limoncello shots all around — sharp and sweet at once — and we toasted to “la famiglia.” They handed out little diplomas at the end; mine still has a flour thumbprint on it. I keep thinking about that kitchen light flickering over our table, how easy it was to feel at home there.