pansotti, liguria's potbellied ravioli

pasta of the month 014

My obsession with Ligurian food continues on this sun-soaked Friday afternoon, the last moments of May giving way to True Summer. After a rather exhausting year, I’m determined to embrace this slow, lazy season more than ever, and few things proclaim summer! better than the Italian Riviera. Although other areas like Emilia-Romagna might first come to mind when we think of fresh pasta, the northwest region of Liguria has an important role to play, too. Indeed, Ligurian pastas are some of the oldest that exist, many dating back to the 13th century. We’ve already talked about corzetti stampati, beautifully embossed pasta medallions from Genoa, and mandilli de saea, luxurious silk handkerchiefs smothered in pesto—both originating in the Middle Ages. But Liguria is also, allegedly, the birthplace of the world’s most famous stuffed pasta: ravioli. Today you’ll find all manner of ravioli in Liguria, filled with everything from vegetables to fish to meat. And the most popular among them? Our June Pasta of the Month: potbellied pasta pockets called pansotti (or pansoti).

Pansotti, from the Italian word pancia and Ligurian pansa (meaning “belly” or “potbelly”) are one of the newest members of the Ligurian pasta pedigree. They’re first explicitly mentioned in an article in the Genoese newspaper Il Secolo XIX in 1961, which detailed a rather curious meatless raviolo presented at a food festival in the fishing village of Nervi. It’s likely the pasta was invented much earlier—a longstanding dish enjoyed during Lent—and the festival was rather an excuse to dust off an old recipe. Still, its resurrection made an impact, launching pansotti from the obscure to the epicenter of the region’s culinary canon. (Side note: If “potbelly” wasn’t enough to pique your interest in these ravioli, perhaps their original name, “chard in prison” (gè in preixun in local dialect), will.)

Two aspects of pansotti initially caught my attention. The first, of course, is the shape, since I’m a glutton for the edible origami that is fresh pasta. You’ll find pansotti throughout Liguria, and as such their form varies, from plump triangles to paunchy halfmoons. In Genoa, they’re more intricate, akin to large tortellini or cappelletti, but more rustic and full with—you guessed it—big bellies that remind me of the Pillsbury Doughboy. Since we’re all here to make pasta, I obviously took on the most challenging iteration, but don’t let that deter you—the simpler shapes are just as delicious.

The second thing I find fascinating about pansotti is their filling. By now you’re well-acquainted with my tendency to start on the traditional Italian path and then, at the last moment, veer off the road in a totally different direction or, if I’m feeling particularly bold, off the side of a cliff. Today, however, I’m sticking with where I’m supposed to go, and that includes the herb and cheese filling that makes pansotti, well, pansotti. This isn’t your average vegetable filling: Ligurian locals call the combination of herbs “prebuggiùn,” a mix of wild and foraged greens that are boiled and served together. In addition to pansotti, prebuggiùn is used in soups, rice, omelets, and pies. It consists of anywhere between 7 and 12, or even 14—yes, One Four—different greens, including wild chicory (radicchio), chard, dandelion greens, borage, nettles, wild fennel, rocket (arugula), sorrel, and endive, among others. Not all are used at once (they grow during different seasons, after all), but at least four are required in Liguria’s official pansotti recipe.

My prebuggiùn: chard, spinach, arugula, dandelion greens, and marjoram.

Some of these greens, while once easily harvested alongside country roads, are now difficult to come by, so today they’re often substituted with grocery store staples like spinach, escarole, parsley, and other lettuces. In that spirit, I adapted some of the ingredients in this recipe out of necessity (okay, so not entirely traditional, but the intent is there!). Ultimately, we’re going for delicate, vegetal flavors, so use whatever greens you like—ideally a balance of sweet and bitter flavors—and what you can find. And while there is also a little cheese in this recipe—typically a spoonful of prescinsêua, a cross between yogurt and ricotta, plus some Parmigiano-Reggiano—it’s very much a supportive character, hovering in the background mainly for binding purposes and to add a little salt.

You could, I suppose, serve pansotti like I do most ravioli, with a simple butter sauce and some grated Parmigiano cheese. I can attest that this option is delicious. But like tortellini in brodo—a holistic dish demanding a particular filling and sauce (or, rather, broth)—you’d be missing the full Pansotti Experience. Pansotti are almost always served with salsa di noci (walnut sauce), a coarse-creamy white pesto synonymous with Ligurian cuisine. Let me just say this: What salsa di noci lacks in looks, it makes up tenfold in flavor. It’s rich, creamy, and intensely satisfying, not to mention you can whip it up in the time it takes to boil water. The recipe I’m sharing today is a slightly adapted version of the one in my cookbook. Pair it with these pansotti, of course, but also corzetti, trofie, and any other pasta you’d like.

To minimize stress and kitchen time, I made this dish over the course of two days, and I encourage you to do the same. Start with the filling and sauce on day one, then the pasta on day two. You can also blanch and freeze the shaped pansotti so that future you can make an average weeknight extra special.

PS: If you’re interested in learning more about Ligurian cuisine, definitely check out

Enrica Monzani

’s newsletter,

Taste of Liguria

and her blog, A Small Kitchen in Genoa. I’ve learned so much from Enrica over the years!

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Pansotti with Walnut Sauce (Salsa di Noci)

Serves 4 to 6

For the filling

Kosher salt
340 grams (12 ounces; about 1 large bunch) Swiss or other chard, cleaned, tough stems removed, and torn into large pieces
170 grams (6 ounces) baby or mature spinach, cleaned
170 grams (6 ounces; about 1 small or ½ large bunch) dandelion greens, cleaned, any tough stems removed
140 grams (5 ounces) baby arugula, cleaned
60 grams (2 ounces; ¼ cup) full-fat ricotta
30 grams (1 ounce) finely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
1 to 2 teaspoons (about 10 to 20 large leaves) fresh marjoram*
Freshly ground black pepper
Whole nutmeg
1 large egg

For the pasta

100 grams (about 2 large) eggs
50 ml (a scant ¼ cup) dry white wine like Pinot Grigio
50 ml (a scant ¼ cup) tepid water
400 grams (about 2⅔ cups) ‘00’ pasta flour or all-purpose flour

For the sauce & serving

125 grams (1¼ cups) raw walnuts, divided
35 grams (¼ cup) pine nuts
30 grams (1 large slice) stale white bread, crusts removed
120 ml (½ cup) whole milk, plus more as needed
2 garlic cloves, roughly chopped
30 ml (2 tablespoons) extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon (about 10 large leaves) fresh marjoram*, plus more to taste and for serving
60 grams (2 ounces; ¼ cup) full-fat ricotta (optional)
30 grams (1 ounce) finely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, plus more for serving
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

*Marjoram, an aromatic herb with hints of citrus and pine, is a core ingredient in Ligurian cooking. It’s easier to come by in the summer months (I found it at a few major grocery stores), but if you can’t find it, swap it for fresh oregano or, in a pinch, fresh sage. Note that a little can go a long way.

For the filling

Bring a large pot of water to a boil, then season it generously with salt. Fill a large bowl with ice water. Line a sheet pan with a clean, tightly woven dishcloth.

Add the chard and dandelion greens to the boiling water and cook, stirring often, until tender but still vibrant green, about 2 minutes. Use tongs and/or a spider sieve to immediately plunge the greens into the bowl of ice water. Then add the spinach and arugula to the boiling water and blanch for 30 seconds. Transfer to the ice bath as well.

Drain the greens in a colander and, if they’re still a little warm, run them under cold water to cool completely. Wring out some of the water with your hands, then transfer to the dish cloth and use it to wring out as much of the remaining moisture as possible. Blot the greens dry once more with paper towels. (I was left with about 300 grams / 10½ ounces of cooked and dried greens.)

Transfer the greens to a food processor and pulse a few times until well chopped. Add the ricotta, Parmigiano-Reggiano, and marjoram (start with a little, then add more as desired). Season generously with salt, pepper, and freshly grated nutmeg, then pulse to combine. Adjust seasoning to taste, then add the egg and another pinch each of salt and pepper and pulse again.

Transfer the filling to a bowl or piping bag and refrigerate until ready to use. The filling can be stored, tightly sealed, in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

For the pasta

Make the dough:
Whisk together the eggs, wine, and water until well combined, then make the dough by hand or in a food processor according to the directions in this post. Let it rest, tightly covered, at room temperature for at least 30 minutes and up to 2 hours.

While the dough rests, if you haven’t already, make the sauce.

Set up your workspace:
Set up your pasta machine. Line a sheet pan or tray with parchment paper, or dust it with a thin layer of coarse semolina.

Roll the pasta sheets:
Cut off a quarter of the dough and re-wrap the rest. On your work surface, flatten the section of dough with your palm into an oval-shaped pancake that’s about ¼-inch thick. Press the dough between your fingers to thin it out as needed.

Set your pasta machine to its widest setting. Position one tapered end of the oval in the center and roll it through once—you should be left with a longer, thinner oval.

Position the dough lengthwise on your work surface. Then fold the two tapered ends into the center like an envelope so the length is the same or similar to the slot of the pasta roller (about 6 inches; it doesn’t matter if the tapered ends overlap or if there’s space between them). Flatten the dough again with your palm/fingers so it’ll go through the machine easily.

Line up the bottom edge of the pasta envelope with the edge of the machine (the folded ends should run horizontally). Roll the dough through the machine on the same (widest) setting a second time—you should be left with a rectangular-ish piece of dough (it’s okay if the ends aren’t perfect!).

Continue rolling the dough through the machine one time on each progressive setting until you have a thin sheet, dusting with ‘00’ or all-purpose flour as needed (on both a Marcato Atlas 150 and KitchenAid machine, I roll the dough to setting 6).

Cut the pasta:
Lay the pasta sheet horizontally on your work surface. Trim the ends of any uneven areas, then ball up the scraps and wrap them in plastic to rehydrate. If you don’t have a wooden work surface, dust a little flour on the bottom of the pasta sheet or your countertop to prevent sticking.

Cut the sheet into 2½-inch squares, either with a bicycle pastry cutter or by hand. For the latter, fold the dough in half lengthwise and make a crease at the midpoint, then unfold it—you should be left with a faint line along the equator. Use a pasta wheel or sharp knife to cut along the crease. Then cut crosswise to create individual squares (just eyeball it).

Fill and assemble the pansotti (see video above!):
Spoon or pipe dollops of filling, 1 to 2 teaspoons each, in the center of a few of the squares (you want these to be well-filled and “potbellied,” but start with a little less filling and add more to subsequent pieces as you feel comfortable). Cover the rest of the pieces with a damp dishcloth so the dough stays hydrated.

Add a small amount of water with your finger to two adjoining edges of each filled square. Fold each square into a triangle, first joining two opposite points, then gently sealing the sides, pressing out the air around the filling as you do so. Once the filling is encased, press the edges again firmly between your fingers.

Position the triangle flat on your work surface, with the top point pointing north. Then bring the bottom two points together toward the center and, overlapping them slightly, press firmly to seal. The belly of the pasta should pop up and the back should be relatively flat.

Arrange the finished pansotti in a single layer on the prepared sheet pan. Repeat with the remaining dough and filling.

Storage note: To store the pansotti for future use, blanch them for about 30 seconds in boiling water, then let them air dry on a tightly woven dish cloth until no longer tacky, turning occasionally, about 1 hour. Arrange in a single layer on a parchment-lined sheet pan and freeze until solid, about 25 minutes. Transfer to a freezer bag and return to the freezer. These keep best for about a week and well up to 3 months.

For the sauce

Heat the oven to 375°F. Spread the walnuts and pine nuts on a small, foil-lined sheet pan. Toast in the oven until golden and fragrant, watching closely, 8 to 10 minutes.

While the nuts toast, place the bread in a small bowl. Pour over the milk and soak until soft and saturated, 5 minutes.

Add the bread (and residual milk), about ¾ (85 grams) of the walnuts (reserve the rest for serving), the pine nuts, garlic, oil, marjoram, Parmigiano-Reggiano, and ricotta, if using, to the bowl of a food processor. Pulse, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed, until the mixture is well combined and has a coarse-creamy consistency. If it’s very thick, add a splash more milk to loosen. Season to taste with salt, pepper, and more marjoram if you’d like.

Transfer the sauce to a small bowl and set aside. It can also be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.

For serving

Bring a large pot of water to a gentle boil, then season it generously with salt. Add half of the walnut sauce to a large sauté pan or Dutch oven. Coarsely chop the reserved toasted walnuts.

Gently drop the pansotti into the boiling water, shaking off any flour as you do so. Stir for a moment to prevent sticking, then cook until tender or to your liking, 3 to 5 minutes. Meanwhile, warm the sauce over medium heat and, using a ladle or heatproof measuring cup, stir in enough pasta cooking water to loosen it into a saucy consistency (about ¼ to ½ cup (60 to 120 ml)).

Transfer the pansotti directly to the sauce (or, if you need to drain them, reserve 1 cup (240 ml) pasta cooking water first and immediately tip them from the colander into the sauce). Stir gently until the pasta is well coated, 1 to 2 minutes, adding more sauce or loosening with more cooking water as needed.

Divide the pansotti among plates and serve, topped with chopped walnuts, a few marjoram leaves, and grated Parmigiano-Reggiano.