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The Venetian kitchen, Brixton Windmill, Blenheim Gardens Brixton, London (2026)

18/10/2026

Now that autumn's here, I keep thinking about this apple cake.

It's my mum's recipe, and she's been making it for as long as I can remember.

Nothing fancy, just quick and simple. It turned up at village celebrations, charity cake sales, Sunday lunches, family get-togethers, you name it.

Sometimes she'd wrap it in a clean cloth while it was still warm and take it down the gravel lane to a neighbour. She's still got the same rectangular tin she's always baked it in, the one with the loose handles that went 'ding ding' with every step, so you knew she was on her way with cake.

Funnily enough, that's what I remember most. Not just the cake, but everything around it. Standing side by side, chopping apples, creaming the sugar by hand into butter brought down from the mountains, so thick and dense it fought back every single time (honestly, so painful, my arm still remembers), that smell of apples baking, and switching on the oven light every five minutes to check on it. And that tin, of course.

Apples everywhere and darker evenings are bringing back those memories, and it feels like the perfect time to bake it again.

As many of you know, we kept the heart of Mum's recipe, but over the years we've made a few tweaks of our own: a little potato starch for extra softness, almond essence, honey, and, of course, the whipped cream, which always meant it was a special day when I was little.

I made our version for her recently. She loved it… and then asked me for the recipe! I'll admit, that felt like a bit of a win. ❤️

And then there is you. You've been adding your own touches too, like cinnamon and mixed spice for a bit of extra flavour. Some of you serve it with Greek yoghurt, which I love. They're all such lovely ideas, and it's brilliant to hear how you're making the recipe your own.

This is exactly the kind of cake we make when we fancy a taste of home, and I'm so glad some of you are doing the same.

Full recipe is on the blog, link in bio. 🍎🍂

And if you make it, I'd love to know who you're sharing it with.

Agnes ❤️

18/10/2026

Sharing a few memories from our recent trip home to Venice and Mestre, and this time it’s about much more than our linguine alle vongole.

Glimpses of the places we love, with their beautiful colours and bright skies, but mostly a collection of plates, shared tables and time with people we hadn’t seen in a while.

From bigoli in salsa and baccalà mantecato to homemade pasta with ragù bianco, seasonal vegetables, fish and meat prepared in so many ways, and a few sweet endings, these are just some of the dishes we enjoyed.

We don’t have pictures of everything, because sometimes you remember to take a photo, and sometimes you’re simply too busy enjoying yourself.

One of the highlights was celebrating Fabio’s mum’s 70th birthday at La Cascina da Diego La cascina da Diego. It was some of the most comforting, homely and genuinely delicious food we’ve had in a long time. The place was just as special: beautifully presented, with soft countryside décor, simple yet full of care in every detail. Surrounded by family, we felt right at home, somewhere between Italy and England.

Meeting Diego Diego Scaramuzza Il Cuoco Contadino in person made the day even more memorable. We have so much respect for his work. If you don’t know him yet, please follow him. He’ll take you on a journey through nature and food, including traditions and ingredients too often forgotten.

We also caught up with friends over a lovely aperitivo with amazing cicchetti at L'Ostricaro, and enjoyed a fantastic fish dinner at Osteria El Bacaro.

And with other friends we wish we saw more often, we went to Osteria del lupo nero, a place very familiar to us, where once again we ate incredible fish, as always.

Good food brought it all together, as it so often does. That’s what we love most about it: it makes room for long conversations, for stories we’d almost forgotten, and for the people who matter.

Coming home reminds us of where we’re from, and of how much of it we bring into our kitchen. Food is our way of carrying Venice (and Mestre) with us, and of sharing it with the people we love.

Here’s to the next time. We can’t wait (and we’ll keep looking at these dish pictures in the meantime). ❤️

14/10/2026

Sometimes memories rush back when we least expect them, triggered by something as simple as a taste, a smell or a familiar sight.

For me, apples always bring me back to my parents’ house in autumn, and to the fruit bowl on our table, gradually changing from bright summer berries to a colourful mix of apples in every shade.

My mum has always loved apples, and with the apple-growing region of Trentino-Alto Adige just next door, there were often more in the house than we could eat. Some went into her frullato di mele, others into her Venetian apple cake.

Over the years, we found plenty of other ways to use them, too. And a few years ago, I started making apple juice at home.

It began with a simple wish to make something from scratch rather than reach for a bottle at the supermarket. But when autumn comes around, making apple juice has become one of those little seasonal rituals we love returning to.

Perhaps that's part of the pleasure of cooking with the seasons: rediscovering the simple things that are worth making ourselves.

Fresh, homemade apple juice is coming to the blog soon! ❤️ Follow us for this recipe and many more.

And a little note: We wanted to keep it quiet until next week, but some of you have already spotted the beautiful plate in the photo! It’s by the lovely Veronika Veronika Solarova, one of our favourite ceramists. Do pop over and follow her to see more of her fabulous work. 🤍

Agnes

10/10/2026

Before we decide what to cook, there is often a walk to the market.

We go looking for ingredients, but never quite know what we will come home with. And that's part of the beauty of home cooking for us.

Sometimes we have something in mind. Sometimes a vegetable, a bunch of herbs or a beautiful piece of fish changes our plans completely. Sometimes we just want to be inspired. We come home with baskets full of things we didn't expect to buy, and bags too heavy for how short the walk back is.

Perhaps that is one of the things we love most about cooking, letting the seasons and the ingredients have a say too.
And perhaps that is why we have a soft spot for these walks to the market.

And for the people who still make the time to go and look. To find what they need, to choose what looks good that day. Sometimes slowly, with all the time in the world; sometimes in a hurry, fitting it in between everything else.

It can seem like such an ordinary thing, but perhaps it is not so ordinary anymore.

To make a market part of your routine. To know where to go for good potatoes, fresh herbs or the fish you want for dinner, chosen with your own hands, not already wrapped and decided for you. To look, choose, carry it home in baskets and bags that get heavier with every stop, and then make something from it.

We like to think there is something worth celebrating in that.

Because cooking begins long before we step into the kitchen.

10/10/2026

We visited family in Venice over the weekend, and as it was my mum's 70th birthday, I cooked her a plate of pasta alle vongole, one of her favourites, but made it following our recipe: vongole, garlic, parsley, olive oil, of course, and this time, homemade linguine.

She didn't say much at first. Then: "Your grandma never used this much garlic. And she would have used spaghetti, not linguine. That's the way I make it and you should know it."

I laughed. Guilty on both counts.

But she kept eating. And after a while, she said it tasted really good anyway. Maybe not exactly like Grandma's. And hers. But close enough to bring her back into that kitchen in Venice, for a moment.

That's the real point of cooking, for me. Not to get it exactly right (not even the pasta shape, apparently!) but to choose good ingredients, to know them, and to cook with intention. To experiment a little, to think of the stories behind a recipe, and to let each version be its own.

If you haven't made pasta by hand before, this is a good place to start. Just flour, water, and a little time, nothing that needs to be perfect, only made with care.

The sauce is just as simple: garlic, olive oil, parsley, and the clams themselves.

Then, let me know: spaghetti or linguine? 🙂

Find the recipe for our homemade linguine alle vongole at the link in bio (linktree).

Fabio

03/10/2026

Last Saturday at the market, we spotted some beautiful giant Savoy cabbages. They reminded us of home right away, and of how their arrival somehow marked the beginning of autumn in all its glory.

Fabio looked at me and said, “Oh, let’s make our stewed Savoy cabbage. It’s been a long time.”

So, we started choosing our favourite, taking our time to look at them. As we were choosing, two young women stopped beside us.

“What is that?”

We have to admit, we were a little puzzled at first. Surely everyone knows what a Savoy cabbage looks like?

Well, not necessarily.

This one still had all its outer leaves and looked quite different from the neatly trimmed 'supermarket cabbages'.

So, we told them it was a Savoy cabbage.

“And how would you cook that?”
And just like that, a little market conversation turned into a recipe exchange.

We told them about our stewed Savoy cabbage, but also about using it in soups, or even fermenting it. We don't know if they ended up buying one, but we like to think that somewhere out there are now two more people who know what a Savoy cabbage is and what they could do with one.

Walking home, we started talking about how much this reminded us of going food shopping with our mums when we were children.

If they saw an ingredient they had never cooked before, they would simply ask the greengrocer, butcher or fishmonger who would tell them how to cook it, and people waiting in the queue would join in too.

Recipes travelled that way, through little conversations that were simply part of everyday life.

And we love that. Sometimes all it takes is a little curiosity, and the willingness to ask a question.

So next time you see an ingredient you don't recognise or have never cooked before, don't be afraid to ask:

“What is that?”

You never know where the conversation might take you and what you may end up cooking for dinner.

And if you are curious about our stewed Savoy cabbage, you can find the recipe in the side dishes recipe section of our website. It may not be the prettiest dish to photograph, but we promise it is very easy and very good.

We hope you like it as much as we do. ❤️

Agnes (and Fabio, sitting next to me)

28/09/2026

Yesterday, Fabio spent the day cooking at the Harvest Festival at Brixton Windmill & Gardens, first preparing lunch for the wonderful volunteers who give their time to make this community event happen, and then cooking for the guests who came along to enjoy the day.

This is always a lovely way of giving something back to a place that has become quite special to us.

For many years now, we’ve chosen Brixton Windmill as the home for our cooking classes because we believe in what the Friends of Windmill Gardens are doing here: caring for this extraordinary piece of London’s history while keeping it at the heart of the local community.

And there is something particularly special about the fact that the windmill is still doing what it was built to do. The millstones are still used to mill flour, just as they have been for generations, and the wholewheat flour produced here is still available to the local community. And trust us, it is really good flour.

So yesterday, while Fabio was cooking, there was something rather nice about knowing that we were contributing, in our own small way, to a place where food, history and community continue to come together.

We’re very grateful to the Friends of Windmill Gardens for all the work they put into keeping this place at the heart of the community, and for letting us be a small part of it. ❤️

And, of course, a huge thank you to all the volunteers who gave their time yesterday. Without them, days like this simply wouldn’t happen.

We didn’t take many pictures yesterday. Fabio was, unsurprisingly, rather busy cooking! But we still wanted to share a little of this lovely event and, more importantly, help spread the word about the Windmill and all the wonderful work happening here.

Hopefully, next time, some more of you will come along and discover this very special place for yourselves. ❤️

And if you’d like to join us at the Windmill for one of our cooking classes, a couple of places have just become available for our October class following some cancellations. You can find all the details through the link in our bio.

28/09/2026

Gnocchi is humble food. Potatoes, flour, eggs (if using), and time. Nothing fancy, but somehow it always feels like something special.

We both grew up with food at the heart of family life. It was never an afterthought. Everything was cooked from scratch, nourishing but humble, with honest flavours. Both our families came from modest beginnings, so food was about making the most of what you had. And in the hands of our mums, a few simple ingredients could become something magical. You bought what was in season, cooked with what you had, and shared ingredients and recipes with your neighbours.

On many Sunday mornings, we would come downstairs to find the potatoes already boiling and the ragù gently simmering. Before long, we would be in the kitchen, sneaking spoonfuls of ragù straight from the pan when mum wasn't watching (even though of course she was) and helping make the gnocchi.

Looking back, we realise just how much those moments meant to us, and still do. We can still see them when we close our eyes. We remember the smell of soffritto and ragù, the hands working the dough, those pieces of bread dipped in sauce, and knowing that lunch was going to be something special.

We remember the laughter, learning the little secrets, and feeling that we were part of something special too. And we were so proud to say, “I made this.”

Some foods and recipes don't just fill our plates. They take us somewhere and make us feel something.

This is the feeling behind our gnocchi al ragù recipe. A simple dish, but one that carries so many lovely memories with it, and perhaps reminds many others of their own Sunday lunches too. ❤️

If you decide to make it, we hope it brings a bit of that same warmth to your table. We’d love to hear about the memories it brings back for you, or the new traditions it starts.

23/09/2026

For me, making pasta by hand is deeply satisfying. A deliberate choice to slow down, working flour and water until they become something else entirely.

There is something almost meditative about taking the humblest of pantry staples and turning it into a living canvas, ready to welcome whatever it meets. And while autumn usually turns our eyes to the land, something in me, an instinct rooted in memory, turns to the sea, too.

Wandering the autumn market, I find the clams piled on ice, glistening at the fish stall. The colder months are when vongole come into their own, just like my mum always told me. She always trusted the fishmonger's word without question. "These are good ones, at last," he'd promise.

They always take me back to my grandfather, too, and the fish he'd bring home after a day out on the water in Venice. It's autumn, the world around us has already started eating pumpkin, and we're eating vongole instead.

Back in the kitchen, it only takes minutes. They hit the hot pan with garlic, olive oil, and parsley, opening up to release their salty, sea-rich juices. Nothing extra, nothing hidden.

With a sauce this simple, making the pasta by hand feels even more right. Just semolina flour, water, and time. And maybe that's what I love most about making it from scratch: something made from almost nothing, but so beautiful, bringing everything else together, simple as it is.

The recipe for fresh linguine alle vongole is coming very soon, with a story from my family I can't wait to share.

Fabio

20/09/2026

Growing up in Italy, Sunday lunches often meant one thing: fresh pasta or gnocchi al ragù, followed by little sweet pastries, or 'pastine', for dessert.

Our mums would start the ragù sauce early in the morning, letting it simmer on the stove for hours. That is the true secret of a good ragù: you simply cannot rush it. It needs time, and somehow, that was part of what made Sunday lunch feel special.

Because it was the weekend, our mums would let us sleep a little longer. We would wake up to that incredible smell filling the entire house, and we knew it was going to be a special day straight away.

And, of course, we couldn't resist. We would rush down the stairs and try to steal a spoonful of ragù straight from the pot with a piece of bread, while our mums shouted, "Stop eating that, or you'll ruin your lunch!"

By the time we came downstairs, the potatoes would already be boiled, hot and ready on the counter. We both have such fond memories of helping our mums mash the potatoes, mix the dough and roll out the gnocchi.

Making them from scratch is a bit of a labour of love. Nothing complicated, but you have to follow the right steps. And, while there is nothing wrong with taking shortcuts when you need to, homemade gnocchi and a ragù sauce that has had time to simmer are hard to beat.

Of course, each of our mums has her own cherished recipe for both gnocchi and ragù, and neither is written down. As they both say: "You go by the eye. Sometimes you need more flour, or more egg, sometimes you don't. Then, in doubt, just taste it."

So, we took the best bits from both of our families, combined them, and let Fabio add his expertise as a lifelong lover of gnocchi. The result is our very own version, made with love and respect for the traditions we grew up with.

Even now, making it takes us straight back to those Sunday mornings in our mums' kitchens, and we hope it brings a little of that feeling to your table too.

The recipe for our gnocchi al ragù is now on the blog. Find the link in our bio, take your time with it, and perhaps make it into a special Sunday lunch of your own. 🍝✨

The Venetian kitchen

18/10/2026

18/10/2026

14/10/2026

10/10/2026

10/10/2026

03/10/2026

28/09/2026

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20/09/2026

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