Rachel Roddy's Festive Pasta Recipes | A kitchen in Rome

The apartment, on the third floor of a 1900s building just off Viale Angelico (it means Angelic Avenue) was warm and smelled of wax, clementines, simmering broth and softener. Everyone arrived at noon and put their coats on the extra bed. Conversation and laughter filled the room as family members and two friends (some of whom hadn't seen each other since the previous Christmas) swapped stories of their trip and the fun of parking when half of Rome is elsewhere. Presents were placed under the tree, contributions covered with aluminum foil in the kitchen and bottles on the sideboard next to the figs. Children were hugged and teenagers congratulated on growing up.

Shortly after 12:30 p.m., a glass cart with gold handles was rolled up and parked near the buffet. On top were crisps, pretzels, huge olives (each impaled with a toothpick) and triangles of white bread - half topped with salmon, the other with what tasted like olive paste . A brief discussion ensued about what to drink, as two bottles were not yet deemed cold enough. Bottles were crushed in the freezer for quick cooling, while other corks were popped and glasses filled.

Just after 1 p.m., once everyone everyone was seated at a table set the day before with "best" fabrics, cutlery and crystal, a soup tureen the size of a watermelon was brought. There was steaming broth and 200 tortellini floating on its surface. There is a legend about this pasta shape which involves a keyhole and a navel. More interesting, I think, are the diminutives: tortellini – a very small stuffed pastry, is itself a diminutive of tortello – a small stuffed pasta Pasta; which again is short for torta– a pie or cake. A friend describes them as pasta signet rings filled with a pâté-like batter of bologna, pork, prosciutto, and parmesan cheese. They are laborious to make and, on Viale Angelico, are greeted with much appreciation: "amazing, amazing, wonderful".

The sound of a lambrusco cork was followed by near-silence as everyone concentrated on how many tortellini they could get on a spoon. Noisy again, and the bowls cleared, roast veal stuffed with chestnuts appeared, various vegetables too, and more wine was opened. After that came a large bowl of raw fennel, nuts, and fruit, for which the men took out carving knives and scooped out the skin in a single jumbled strip. Someone unwrapped the panettone, while another transferred the contents of the liquor cabinet to the middle of the table. Full of food and wine, and seated around a crowded table, everyone was slightly flushed and the scene warm with reddish lust.

This is a selective narrative , sure. The apartment also smelled of polish and the days of work of someone wishing they didn't have such an urge to clean; for whom appearing an effortless hostess required every ounce of effort and a new crown. Two parents stayed on either side of the room and everyone hoped that they and their opposing political views would stay that way, even after the grappa. Two mothers chatted competitively, trying to extract as much information as possible from each other, while a grandson, taller and much thinner than the year before, ate nothing but broth and fennel. And now my story has gone too far the other way, to a luncheon of hidden resentment, sadness, compulsion and indigestion.

But it comes back to new. As the plates were being moved around the kitchen, someone began to sing along with a granddaughter on the piano as one mother told another: "There's the possibility of a scholarship, you know ? The mistress says she is very talented! The white sheet has been lifted, shaken out of the window and replaced with an elasticated green baize; the cards are out, and the older ones are teaching the younger ones to play scopa, seven against seven, five and one against six. A movie was planned. At six o'clock the house smelled of grappa, spiced cookies and melted plastic, because one of the apartments of the Christmas lights in Viale Angelico had merged with an angel hanging from the Christmas tree.

Tortellini in brodo ( top photo)

Small navel-shaped pasta stuffed with pork and parmesan cheese, tortellini are typical of the Emilia-Romagna region. They are much easier to prepare than you might imagine and are cooked directly in the broth they are served with. They also make a typical and sublime Christmas starter. This recipe makes about 220 tortellini; they are small so estimate 30 per person. Lots of hands are useful here. Once made, the pasta will keep, covered, for two days in the refrigerator; they also freeze very well, as do leftover fillings.