Flour. Eggs. A pinch of salt. That’s the start of every pasta class I teach, and it is also the reason it works so well for a team. There is nothing to hide behind.

In two hours, a group of 12 people who barely know each other will make dough, roll it, shape it, cook it and eat it together. Here is how that goes, and what people take away.

The two-hour plan

I run it the same way each time, adjusting for group size and room.

0:00 to 0:15, arrival and set up

Aprons on, hands washed, stations laid out. I give a short talk about what we are making and why fresh pasta is easier than people think. Nobody needs experience.

0:15 to 0:45, the dough

Each pair makes their own dough. A well of flour, eggs cracked into the middle, a fork, then hands. It is messy. It is meant to be. I walk around and fix things as they happen: too dry, too sticky, too shy.

Then the dough rests. That is when we make the sauce.

0:45 to 1:15, the sauce

Half the room starts on a simple tomato sauce, the other half on a brown butter and sage one. Chopping, tasting, adjusting salt. This is where the quieter people usually take over, because it is calm and careful work.

1:15 to 1:45, rolling and cutting

Back to the dough. Rolling it thin, folding it, cutting tagliatelle or filling ravioli. Everyone gets a turn on the rolling pin, and everyone has an opinion on thickness.

1:45 to 2:00, cook and eat

Fresh pasta cooks in about two minutes. We plate up and sit down together. The best moment is always the first bite, when people realise they made it.

What your team actually learns

I’m not going to tell you cooking solves communication problems. It doesn’t. But a few things reliably happen.

People ask for help. Dough goes wrong. You have to say so. That habit carries back to the office more than you’d think.
Roles appear without a manager. Someone organises the station, someone tastes, someone washes up before anyone asks.
Status drops away. Nobody looks senior with flour to the elbow.
Newer people shine. Often the newest hire is the most careful at shaping, and the group sees it.
Conversations change. You hear what people did at the weekend, not what they did in the last sprint.

Common mistakes, and why they’re useful

Everyone gets something wrong, and that is half the value.

Too much flour on the board. Dough dries out and cracks. Fix: a few drops of water and patience.
Rolling too thick. Pasta turns out chewy. Fix: roll until you can see your hand through it.
Under-salted water. The pasta tastes flat. Fix: the water should taste like the sea.
Overcooking. Fresh pasta needs two minutes, not ten.

Each mistake becomes a small shared story by the end of the session. That’s the stuff people bring up at the next team lunch.

Who it suits

Teams of 8 to 30, in your office or a venue you choose. Larger groups are split into stations of four to six.
Mixed-experience groups. True beginners and enthusiastic home cooks both get something out of it.
Dietary needs. Vegetarian, vegan, dairy-free and gluten-free versions all work. Tell me when you enquire, and I’ll plan around it. For allergies, I need to know at least seven days before.

What you need to provide

Not much. A room with a few tables, a sink nearby and some sockets. I bring everything else: ingredients, rolling pins, boards, aprons, pans, hobs when needed. After the meal, I clear up and leave the space as I found it. You can see the full format on the corporate page, or the home version on the masterclass page.

What it costs

A corporate masterclass starts from £120 per person plus VAT. That includes the chef, ingredients, equipment and the meal itself. For comparison, studio cookery classes in London range from £95 to £325 per head, with minimum groups of 8 to 20 and a trip across town. Details are on the pricing page.

What people say afterwards

I won’t invent quotes, so here is what I see. Groups stay longer than planned. They ask for the recipe. They take photos of the pasta, not of each other. A few weeks later, someone emails to say they made it at home. That’s the best result I can ask for.

Pasta shapes and what they do for the room

The shape you choose changes the mood.

Tagliatelle is the calm option. Roll, fold, cut. Good for groups who like rhythm.
Filled ravioli or tortellini needs more teamwork. One person rolls, one fills, one seals. It is slow and sociable.
Orecchiette or cavatelli is hands-only and very forgiving. It suits big groups and people who are nervous about equipment.

I pick the shape with you in advance, based on group size and the time you have.

Taking it home

Everyone leaves with the recipe for the dough and the sauce, written simply. Fresh pasta also freezes well, so people often take a small portion home. The point is that the skill stays with them, not just the memory of the afternoon.

What happens next

Tell me your headcount, preferred date and where you are in London through the contact form. I reply within 24 hours with a menu proposal and a clear price. If you like it, we confirm a date, and I take care of the rest.

Pasta from scratch: what your team learns in 2 hours