You might remember in one of my previous columns I shared a recipe for "one-pan pasta", inspired by Martha Stewart.

It’s a quick, convenient and, dare I say, delicious dish which, cooked correctly, results in a sweet tomato sauce with al dente pasta.

Since then, due to some random internet algorithm, the recipe has been shared with more than a million people across the world.

You might think this to be a good thing, but instead it has opened me up to a torrent of abuse from Italian food purists. Anger, disgust – and a few threats that I would be arrested if I ever showed up in Italy again – followed. With a whirlwind visit to Rome coming up, I was worried about the pasta mafia and their tiny pitchforks.

It’s no surprise really. In my experience, Italians are passionate about almost everything. My first visit to Rome was in the back seat of a car, in brace position as my parents narrowly avoided “passionate” Italians (and a nervous breakdown) while weaving around narrow streets and death- defying roundabouts.

Another example of Italian "passion" was displayed when I attempted to make orecchiette in the streets of Bari with Italian nonnas. They were dismayed by my poor attempts to slice and spread little ears of pasta – something I might add, they had been perfecting for years.

While you may think that harsh threats, disappointment and expletive hand gestures might put me off, I know that this all comes from a true love of a traditional cuisine.

Italian food is outstanding and diverse. It’s about simple, traditional recipes made with exceptional ingredients.

This is demonstrated in the countless dishes that showcase skills passed down through the generations,made using the freshest ingredients. It’s really something to behold rather than be intimidated by.

My most recent visit was a flying one. I was in Rome for barely 24 hours for work and after an evening of delays, I arrived at Fiumicino Airport at 1am, exhausted.

A sleepy airport transfer turned into one of my most memorable moments spent in the city. In a stroke of genius by my driver (perhaps he suggests it to all tourists?), rather than go straight to the hotel, we pulled up beside the Trevi fountain to take in its beauty, lit up in the darkness.

Normally thronged with tourists, the square was calm and silent, with only a few loved-up couples gazing at the neon blue waters and the dramatic architecture. I sat and joined them, taking a deep breath and soaking up this spectacular city, very briefly forgetting my fugitive status.

While I await my trial for crimes against pasta, please try these classic (I hope!) Roman recipes.