The Cosy Joy of Butternut Squash Rigatoni Pasta Pie

Okay, so you know those weekends where it’s brisk outside and you just want the kitchen to smell amazing? That’s when I go for Butternut Squash Rigatoni Pasta Pie. The first time I made this, my partner walked in and said, “Did you just start working at a fancy trattoria or what?” I laughed (mainly because there was flour on my chin and noodles stuck to my jumper). If you’ve ever juggled hot pans while your playlist inexplicably switches to 90s boy bands… well, welcome to my club. This pie is forgiving and spectacular and, honestly, just a solid hug in a dish. No haute cuisine contortions needed.

Why I Keep Making This (And You Might Too)

I pull this recipe out when I want to make something that looks like I tried way harder than I actually did. My family—who swear they don’t like squash, mind you—completely annihilate this. (It’s the only way I get veg into my brother, unless I bribe him with garlic bread.) Sometimes I get frustrated arranging the rigatoni upright, but then I remember: it gives that wow effect, like a pasta Tetris. And leftovers, if there are any, are even better cold. Go figure.

Pasta Pie Ingredients (With My Substitutions!)

1 medium butternut squash (or use pre-cut from the store if you value your fingertips more than perfection)
500g rigatoni pasta (penne works in a pinch—my aunt Verity says tubes are tubes, but I secretly prefer the bigger holes for sauce capture)
300g ricotta cheese (occasionally, I swap in cottage cheese if the shop’s out—bit runnier but works fine)
150ml double cream (half-and-half if you’re stateside, or skip for a lighter version, though I almost never do)
80g freshly grated parmesan, and then some for a cheeky sprinkle
2 cloves garlic, minced (I sometimes use extra, just to ward off the sniffles)
Olive oil (generously, for roasting and slicking up that pasta)
1 egg (for the ricotta mixture)
Nutmeg—just a dash (or none, actually, if you’re not a fan)
Salt and black pepper, to taste
Optional: Sage leaves for crispy garnish (when I’m feeling fancy)

How I Actually Make This (Mess & All)

Roast the Squash: Peel and chunk the butternut (I’ll admit—I’ve nearly sliced a thumb, so sometimes grab that pre-cut stuff). Toss in oil, salt, pepper, and roast at 200°C (about 400°F) for 25-30 minutes. They should be soft and a little golden. If you forget them in the oven and they get a bit browned, honestly that’s just more flavor.
Boil Your Pasta: Salt your water like the sea—I never measure, just go by feel… and taste. Cook rigatoni till al dente (it’ll cook more in the oven). Drain (occasionally I forget to reserve pasta water—don’t stress, it’s not a dealbreaker). Toss with a glug of olive oil so it doesn’t clump.
Whizz That Filling: Blend roasted squash, ricotta, cream, egg, minced garlic, and most of the parmesan. Add salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Taste—this is where I sneak a spoon or two. Should be creamy, slightly sweet, and a bit savory.
Assemble the Pie: Here’s the fun (and slightly tedious) part. Stand the rigatoni upright in a springform pan (if you don’t have one, I’ve used a deep cake tin lined with parchment, just go slow when unmolding). Pour and smooth the squash mixture over, wiggling the pan so it seeps down those tubes. Top with leftover parmesan (and sage leaves, if you’ve got them).
Bake: 30-35 minutes at 200°C/400°F. Top should be golden, a little crispy. I let it sit for 10 minutes before unmolding—burned hands are not a badge of honor, trust me.

Notes Nobody Tells You

I once dumped the pasta in without oiling—and ended up with pasta pie that needed a chisel. If it looks a bit too soft in the middle, I just call it ‘Tuscan inspired’ and slice it with a big spoon. Actually, don’t panic about precision—this recipe is very forgiving. Except, maybe, for the undercooked pasta, which is just tragic. Second thought: always taste that butternut mix before saucing the pasta, as sometimes the squash is sweeter than you expect.

Weird Variations I’ve Tried (Some Work, Some Don’t)

Added cooked bacon bits: solid, actually—pairs really well with the sweetness of squash
Threw in spinach once; it kinda faded into oblivion, so now I just serve greens alongside
Try a mix of pumpkin and squash. Turns out, tastes almost identical, but color is more orange—just don’t tell my foodie mate Colin
I once swapped ricotta for feta; seriously salty. Stick with ricotta, unless you’re a sodium enthusiast

The Gear (And When I’ve Improvised)

Springform pan—ideal, but once I made a ‘rustic’ version in a deep lasagna dish and just scooped it out like pasta cake
Blender or food processor (but you can mash the squash/ricotta combo with a fork if you’re determined or if, like me, you forgot to wash your blender blades)
Baking sheet (line with foil to save your sanity on the clean up)

Storing (Or… How Long It Lasts…)

This should last 3-4 days in the fridge (though in my house, nobody’s ever found out if it lasts longer than 24 hours). Sometimes, it’s even better cold or reheated. You can freeze slices, but the texture’s a tad mushier on defrosting—mostly fine in a pinch.

How I Serve It (Traditions & Random Ideas)

Mostly, it’s centre stage—with an unruly tangle of salad leaves or, if I’m honest, a pile of garlicky bread. Sometimes, I drizzle with chilli oil for a kick. My family’s odd tradition? A splash of balsamic glaze on the side (trust—tastes great).

Lessons Learned (i.e., Pro Tips From My Mistakes)

Don’t rush cooling before slicing, unless you like pasta mosaics crumbling everywhere (so tempting, but patience is key—learned the hard way)
You can definitely prep the sauce ahead, or even build the whole thing a day before—just bake right before serving
If your filling is oddly runny, toss in a spoonful more ricotta (or even breadcrumbs—my nan’s trick!)

Well, People Do Ask… (FAQ, For Real!)

“Can I use gluten-free pasta?” Sure thing! Just don’t cook it too long, or it goes mushy.
“No ricotta on hand—what now?” You can actually get away with cottage cheese, or even a thick plain Greek yogurt, though it’s a bit tangier.
“Help! I don’t own a springform pan.” No fuss—deep baking dish, lined with baking paper. My friend Andy once used a muffin tin for mini-pies. Genius, honestly.
“Does this freeze well?” Yes, but as I mentioned above it’s a little softer after thawing, but flavor is there.
“Best place to get your pasta?” Genuinely, I pick up pasta from Eataly online or grab what’s on offer locally. I’m not that picky.
“Got a go-to ricotta?” I usually nab BelGioioso if it’s on sale. But honestly, store brand works, too.

Totally unrelated but—has anyone ever noticed how every time you’re elbow-deep in something sticky, that’s when your phone pings? Maybe that’s just me. Anyway, hope you enjoy making (and eating) this Butternut Squash Rigatoni Pasta Pie. It’s the kind of dish folks will ask you about, then act shocked it wasn’t delivered direct form a restaurant (I’ve seen those faces). Give it a go, tweak it to suit, and totally send me your oddball variations—I love hearing which ones are a win or… not so much.

Butternut Squash Rigatoni Pasta Pie