1. Cook the tagliatelle until they give in. They should be soft, affectionate. Like “aunt hug with a floured apron”.

2. Prepare the sweet mix: chopped walnuts, cocoa, chocolate, breadcrumbs, sugar, cinnamon. (If you taste it with your finger, don't say I didn't warn you.)

3. Drain the pasta and pour it hot into the mix. Mix well, without grace but with respect.

4. Compact everything in a large, rustic dish. They should become a sort of “wrist-breaking cake” but fragrant.

5. Prepare some “extra powder” (always with the same ingredients) and sprinkle it on top, as if you were making a roof of sugar and memory.

6. Cover with film and put outside in the cold. Balcony, terrace or window, everything is fine. But it needs the frost of the Tolfa winter.

7. Eat them at Christmas. And also in the days after, because they get better. But don't wait too long, or they'll become bad. (Like some relatives.)

💬 Grandma's note:

“Sweet macaroni is not a dessert.

They are a gesture, a perfume, a Christmas that remains stuck to the heart.”