Name: Burrata Baked Ravioli with Spinach
Prep time: 15 min
Cook time: 30 min
Total time: 45 min
Yield: 4 servings
Cuisine: Italian
Ingredients: 1 pound fresh or refrigerated cheese ravioli; 2 cups marinara sauce; 2 cups baby spinach, roughly chopped; 1 large ball (8 oz) burrata cheese; 1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese; 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese; 2 tablespoons olive oil; 2 cloves garlic, minced; 1/2 teaspoon dried Italian herbs; Salt and black pepper to taste

So, Why This Burrata Baked Ravioli with Spinach?

Okay, real talk: there are days when I want to impress dinner guests—like, show them I watch more than cereal commercials. But honestly, most nights? I just want a hearty, cheesy thing you toss in the oven and don’t have to stress about. Burrata Baked Ravioli with Spinach hits that sweet spot. Plus, my partner still tells the story about that one time I swapped in tortellini by accident, but everyone scarfed the whole pan in 15 minutes. (Honestly, I count that as a win.)

I make this when I’m craving something both comforting and just a touch more grownup than my “emergency” boxed mac and cheese habit. My family goes a bit bonkers for it, especially when the burrata starts melting into the sauce. (There’s usually a heated debate over who gets the gooey center, which… is part of the fun. And the chaos.)

Stuff You’ll Need (But Not Like, Absolutely)

1 large package fresh or frozen cheese ravioli (about 500g—honestly, sometimes I use spinach ravioli if I spot a good deal. Grandma swears by the brand with the red stripe, but it’s all good.)
2 big handfuls fresh baby spinach (or a cup of thawed frozen spinach—just squeeze out the water or your bake turns into a soup… Trust me)
1 jar tomato pasta sauce (roughly 600ml—homemade rules, but jarred won’t call the food police, promise)
1 ball burrata cheese (about 200g, though if you can only find mozzarella, go for it—just try the burrata at least once)
1/2 cup grated parmesan or pecorino (my neighbour uses Grana Padano, and I’ve borrowed that trick)
Salt, black pepper, pinch of chili flakes (optional—kids may revolt, but I sneak it in anyway)
Olive oil (a glug—no need to measure)

Alright, Let’s Make This Thing

Preheat your oven to about 200°C (roughly 400°F). Or 190 if your oven runs hot. Trust your oven more than your thermometer, if I’m being honest.
Boil a big pot of salted water—like, as salty as the sea, or I suppose the Firth of Forth if you live up my way. Toss in the ravioli, but here’s the thing: barely cook! Just a couple minutes less than the package says; they’ll finish baking. (I always lose one to the bottom of the pot. Fish it out if you can; I usually just sigh and move on.)
Splash some olive oil into a large baking dish—spread half the pasta sauce on the bottom. Arrange a layer of ravioli. Then, scatter spinach over the ravioli. Don’t panic if it seems like loads—it wilts like crazy. Actually, sometimes I just dump a huge handful and hope for the best.
Spread the rest of the sauce over the top and around the sides; wiggle things with a spatula if you want. Sprinkle with parmesan and black pepper. Now, here’s my favorite bit: plonk the burrata right in the center, gently. Don’t break it yet! Trust me.
Drizzle a touch more olive oil, cover (with foil—or, er, an upside-down baking sheet if you can’t find your foil. I resort to that often), and bake for 15-20 minutes. Remove foil, bake another 8-10 until golden and bubbly and the burrata has surrendered to the heat.
Let it sit for at least five minutes. I am always tempted to dig in instantly—one burnt tongue later, I now force myself to do the washing up while it cools.
To serve, take a spoon and gently tear open the burrata so the creamy middle spills out. Hit it with a few more chili flakes if you fancy. That’s it. I usually taste it here (and sometimes, ok, I’ve already eaten half my portion before it hits the table).

Notes Worth Repeating

I used to yank the burrata apart before baking, but you lose that “big reveal” moment. Wait till the end, it’s worth it.
If the top isn’t browning, just blast it under the grill for a minute. But watch like a hawk—I’ve left it too long and, er, let’s say ‘crisped’ the cheese more than once.
Don’t stress if your ravioli layer overlaps weirdly. Some bites will just have more cheese, which no one’s ever complained about, right?

If You’re Feeling Experimental…

Once I tried adding sautéed mushrooms and—well, it was fine, but mushrooms sort of bullied the delicate burrata flavor. Wouldn’t bother again, personally.
Meat-filled ravioli make it heartier, though my cheesy heart returns to four cheese every time.
Lemon zest on top? Actually surprisingly good. My partner made a face, but I kinda liked the zing.
I guess you could go full Italian-American and swap in marinara for the sauce, but then you’ll be fielding “is this just lasagna?” questions all night.

You Don’t Need Fancy Gear (Promise)

An ovenproof baking dish—any shape, really. I once made this in a deep cake tin and it worked (extra crispy bits on the edges: bonus!). Sure, a colander for draining is handy, but sometimes I just dump the ravioli onto a plate with a slotted spoon, shrug, and move on.

Keeping Leftovers (If Any)

If—big if—you have leftovers, just cover the dish and stash it in the fridge. Next day, a quick bake at 180°C (or even a zap in the microwave) does wonders. I honestly think it tastes better after the flavors settle in, but my family disagrees because it almost never lasts that long!

How I Like To Serve It

Some nights, I just serve this straight from the pan (less washing up—bonus) with a pile of garlic bread, or maybe a peppery arugula salad if I’m feeling virtuous. Oh, and a glass of something nice, even if it’s just sparkling water. My aunt used to insist we top every portion with extra cheese at the table, which honestly, why not?

If I Could Do It Again… (a.k.a. Pro Tips)

Don’t rush the resting step. One time I scooped straight out of the oven—pasta was slippery and lava-hot. Lesson learned.
Try not to add cold burrata straight from the fridge. Actually, I find it works better if you let it sit out 10 minutes—melts more evenly.
I once thought frying the spinach first would add flavor, but it just made everything soggy. Save yourself the hassle.

Questions People Have Actually Asked Me

Can I make this ahead?
Yep! Assemble everything except the burrata, cover, and chill. When you’re ready, bake as directed—but add a couple extra minutes. Add the burrata halfway through, or you’ll risk it drying out. (Ask me how I know…)

Is frozen ravioli any good?
Honestly, yes; on busy weeknights the freezer is my best mate. Just maybe cook it for a minute less before baking, since it’s usually more fragile.

Help—my sauce turned watery!
Did you remember to squeeze your spinach? If not, hey, just scoop with a slotted spoon. Next time, smash the spinach between paper towels, it helps heaps.

What if I don’t like burrata?
Live your truth—swap in fresh mozzarella or even torn ricotta. But the burrata addict in me says do try the real thing once!

What’s with all the cheese?
Short answer: You can never have too much cheese. (But alright, you can cut the parmesan if you like things a bit lighter. I won’t judge. Much.)

Burrata Baked Ravioli with Spinach