Name: Butternut Squash Ravioli with Brown Butter Sage Sauce
Prep time: 40 min
Cook time: 25 min
Total time: 1 h 5 min
Yield: 4 servings
Cuisine: Italian
Ingredients: 1 medium butternut squash, peeled and cubed; 1 tablespoon olive oil; 1/2 teaspoon salt; 1/4 teaspoon black pepper; 1/2 cup ricotta cheese; 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving; 1 package fresh pasta sheets (about 9 oz); 6 tablespoons unsalted butter; 10 fresh sage leaves; 1 egg, beaten (for sealing ravioli)

If you ever pop into my kitchen on a chilly Sunday, chances are high I’ll be halfway through making butternut squash ravioli with brown butter sage sauce (probably humming something off-key and talking to myself, too). Funny thing is, the first time I tried making ravioli from scratch, I covered half the counter in flour, dropped a spoonful of filling on my sock, and promptly declared I’d never do it again—yet here we are. It’s now my lazy luxury meal, perfect for impressing friends or just pretending I’m on some Italian getaway while my cat watches, judging my pasta-stuffing technique. I swear, this recipe tastes like autumn in a bowl—sweeter than pumpkin spice (don’t tell Starbucks I said that) and about a million times cozier.

Why I Get Excited to Make This

I love butternut squash ravioli because it’s the sort of thing that makes my family come running. No joke: last Thanksgiving, I made a double batch, and it vanished faster than my cousin Matt can inhale garlic bread. I make this when I want something comforting but don’t feel like a heavy meat dish, or when I’m secretly trying to sneak veggies into my niece’s dinner (she still hasn’t caught on). And let me tell you, the brown butter sage sauce? It’s so simple and yet makes everything taste fancy; though, once I scorched the butter by getting distracted—totally my fault for checking my phone mid-pour. But hey, live and learn!

What You’ll Need (But Honestly, Improv Works)

For the Ravioli Dough:

2 cups all-purpose flour (sometimes I use 00 flour if there’s some lurking in the pantry, but plain old works fine)
3 large eggs
A pinch of salt
A splash of olive oil (optional—I add it when I remember)

For the Filling:

1 medium butternut squash (about 2 pounds)—peeled, seeded, and cubed. I’ve swapped in roasted sweet potato before, and it works if you’re in a pinch.
1/2 cup ricotta cheese (grandma would only use Galbani, but honestly any ricotta does the job)
1/4 cup grated Parmesan, plus more for topping
Salt and pepper (I’m generous)
A little nutmeg (if you’re feeling spicy, add a dash)

For the Sauce:

6 tablespoons unsalted butter
~12 fresh sage leaves (more or less—you do you)
Optional: chopped hazelnuts or walnuts to sprinkle on top (love the crunch!)

Let’s Roll: How I Actually Do It

Roast Your Squash: Preheat the oven to 400°F (200°C). Toss the squash cubes with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Roast for 30-ish minutes until very tender, with some caramelized bits (these always taste best—nibble a few, you’ve earned it). Honestly, sometimes I forget to flip them halfway; results are still tasty.
Make the Dough: On a clean surface, pile your flour, sprinkle with salt, make a well in the center. Drop in your eggs and olive oil. Mix with a fork, then knead by hand for about 8 minutes. It’ll look like a mess at first, but just keep going (on second thought, sometimes my arms get tired—resting the dough for 10 min midway is totally fine). Cover and let it rest.
Filling Time: Mash or blend the roasted squash with ricotta, Parmesan, nutmeg, salt, and pepper. I use a potato masher (fewer dishes), but a food processor makes it extra smooth. Taste here—seriously, don’t be shy!
Roll & Shape: Cut dough in half, roll out as thin as you can, about the thickness of a nickel. If you’ve got a pasta machine, use it—if not, rolling pin and arm strength works fine (workout bonus). Drop teaspoons of filling in little mounds, about 2 inches apart. Brush edges with water, gently lay the second layer on top, and press to seal (air pockets are pasta’s worst enemy). Slice out ravioli squares with a sharp knife or the rim of a glass. Crimp with a fork if you like the rustic vibe.
Cook Ravioli: Bring salted water to a gentle boil. Plop in ravioli, a few at a time. They float after 3–5 minutes, then fish them out—don’t crowd the pot or they’ll join together like sticky buns (been there!).
Brown Butter Sage Sauce: While ravioli cooks, melt the butter in a big skillet over medium heat. As it foams, toss in sage leaves. Swirl and watch till butter turns golden brown and the sage gets a bit crispy (this is the part where you’ll smell pure heaven). Take off heat right away to avoid burning—it’s easy to overdo it.
Assemble & Chow Down: Rein in your excitement, plate the ravioli, spoon over sauce, and scatter with extra Parmesan and nuts (if using). Snap a pic if that’s your thing—or just dig in immediately like me.

Notes from My Kitchen Sink

I’ve found that adding a bit more ricotta if your squash is super dry helps avoid chalky filling.
Sometimes I freeze assembled ravioli and dump them frozen into boiling water—they just take a minute or two longer.
If the dough tears, patch it! This isn’t the Great British Bake Off.

When I Tried Doing It Differently (Variations, Successes, Oopses)

One time I added a handful of cooked sausage to the filling—tastes rich, good for hearty appetites.
My vegan friend says tofu and nutritional yeast can fake the ricotta and Parm. I tried it; not bad, but different vibe.
Tried shortcutting with store-bought wonton wrappers—honestly, they get you 80 percent of the way for a weeknight, but they fall apart easily, so be gentle!
Tried using pumpkin instead of squash. Yea, didn’t love it. Too watery and bland. Your mileage may vary.

About the Gear: What You Actually Need (…or Not)

Pasta roller helps, but rolling pin and muscle do the trick.
A food processor is nice for smooth filling, but a potato masher is just fine.
If you don’t have a ravioli cutter, grab a water glass or pizza wheel. Not fussy; I’ve done both.

Butternut Squash Ravioli with Brown Butter Sage Sauce

Storing Leftovers? Good Luck!

You can store cooked ravioli in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 2 days. Sauce in a separate container is best. But honestly, in my house, they’re gone by breakfast. Freezing uncooked ravioli? Lay them out on a sheet pan, freeze till solid, then pop in a zip bag—no clumping!

How I Like to Serve It (The Family Way)

I pile the ravioli into a huge bowl right in the middle of the table and let everyone fend for themselves. Sometimes I add a fresh green salad and some crusty bread. My cousin insists on extra Parm. Oh, and a glass of dry white wine never hurts—if you’re browsing wine pairings, check out Wine Folly for inspiration.

Pro Tips Learned the Long, Weird Way

Once, I rushed resting the dough—it tore like tissue. Don’t skip the rest (pun intended).
Don’t overstuff! The filling will try to escape if you do. Ask me how I know…
If you burn the butter and sage, just dump and start over. The line between nutty brown and blackened is paper-thin.

FAQs (The Stuff People Actually Ask Me)

Can I use canned butternut squash puree?: Yup, in a pinch. Just strain off any extra liquid so your filling isn’t runny. Fresh is tastier, though!
Do I have to make my own pasta dough?: Not at all! Fresh lasagna sheets from the fridge section or wonton wrappers will work if you’re short on time (or patience). Won’t win any nonna awards, but hey, it’ll do.
Is this recipe okay for kids?: Absolutely. Kids love it—though my nephew once tried to peel the sage leaves off thinking it was lettuce. Maybe chop them smaller for picky eaters.
What wine pairs well?: Sauvignon Blanc is my go-to, but honestly, whatever you like to drink works. Life’s too short for wine stress (check out this wine guide if you want to get fancy).
Can I make this gluten-free?: Sure, just use your favorite gluten-free flour blend. It’s a bit fussier to knead but doable. Or, cheat with store-bought gluten-free wrappers (no judgment!).

And there you have it—the happily imperfect, deeply satisfying, totally doable butternut squash ravioli that’ll make you the crowned pasta monarch at your next Sunday supper. Or Tuesday night, if you’re feeling bold.