Angela Hartnett has an MBE for services to the hospitality industry, a Georgian town house two doors down from Samantha Morton and a round-bellied Jack Russell called Alfie. Mostly, we talk about Alfie. 'He has very good teeth,' she tells me, seriously. She strokes his ears. 'Very good teeth.'

Hartnett's family come from Bardi in Italy, a region sandwiched between Parma and Bologna. 'So there's ham to the west,' she says, 'and Bolognese to the south. One incredible meal we had in Italy was Christmas 1999, when the whole family, about 14 of us, descended on the local restaurant and just ate our hearts out. Salami and prosciutto to start, then anolini and spinach and ricotta tortelli, then roast pork and beef. It was ridiculously cheap too - about £120 for all of us. Plus, in Bardi, it's so, so peaceful. All you can hear are crickets, and in the valleys, all you can see at night are the little spots of light in people's windows. I love London, I love having Canteen and St John Bread and Wine on my doorstep, and shopping down the road in Broadway Market, but here you can never hear ... quiet.'

Her east-London street has Christ Church Spitalfields at one end ('where they have amazing parties') and the Golden Heart, Hartnett's local, at the other ('I adore Sandra, the landlady there. I reckon she should turn the upstairs into a restaurant. It would be brilliant. And I could just roll there for dinner from my front door.') Jeanette Winterson's organic grocers is over the road, and Gilbert and George, for whom the local area provides constant, sometimes seedy inspiration, live a skip away. 'I say hello to them in the mornings,' Hartnett smiles. 'I love the feel of this street, though of course it can be a bit too cool for school for me.'

Hartnett's house, with its plum-coloured front door, and wide, groaning floorboards, is grand in its dustiness, like an ageing royal. Stepping into her dimly lit hallway, hung with small prints of Italian scenes, the chatter and perfumes of Spitalfields Market to the west and Brick Lane to the east seem very far away.

Hartnett grew up in Essex, living over a fish-and-chip shop. She did a degree in modern history, then, inspired by her Italian grandmother's cooking ('For her, being a woman was all about cooking. My uncle, her son, can still barely make a bowl of pasta and parmesan'), became a chef, working with Gordon Ramsay at Aubergine before rising to head chef at Petrus. She earned her first Michelin star at the Connaught in 2004, her MBE in 2007, and, at 39, is opening two new additions to Ramsay's string of London restaurants, York & Albany and Murano, serving an Italian menu including braised beef cheek agnolotti, and langoustine and shrimp risotto. 'I'm still feeling pretty relaxed about them,' she says, downstairs in her basement kitchen, 'but I'll be crapping my pants soon.'

Unpacking ingredients from west-London deli La Fromagerie beside the Aga, she stacks flat peaches and wrapped sausages on top of her housemate's copies of OK!. Coleen and Wayne are slowly obscured by raw lunch. Very high heels trip past the window as she sweats off a pan of fennel and onions. Loitering by the cookery books (Nigel Slater's there, next to Nigella and the River Café) are her younger sister Anne, their cousins Phil and Patrick, and Patrick's girlfriend Emma, an opera critic, discussing the density of a speciality shortbread when dunked in tea. The sun comes out, and they scatter upstairs to the walled garden, where Alfie basks by the Mongolian barbecue in a beam of sunlight.

When they ask if Hartnett needs their help, her cousins call her 'chef'. Phil hangs his postman's tabard on the back of a chair and opens a bottle of wine, and Patrick, who worked below her briefly in the Connaught kitchen, blends breadcrumbs with garlic, parsley and anchovies to make a stuffing for the sardines, which Hartnett prepares swiftly by the hob. She talks as she guts. 'I've always been into food. Always. My best mate still blames me for her overdraft, because I made her come to all these nice restaurants with me throughout college. A cheap curry was never enough.' She hands the empty sardines to her cousin, and starts to skin sausages. 'I'm the same now. I go out to eat all the time, but even after a day at work, I still enjoy cooking at home. It relaxes me. It feels methodical. At work it's only 20 per cent food, and the rest is management, whereas here, with my family, it's all about sitting around and enjoying a huge bowl of pasta.' She holds up a huge bowl of pasta, triumphantly, and carries it carefully up the wooden staircase to the garden, where the table is set with Connaught china.

There's an air of holiday to the meal - the rare heat, the giggling family stories and gentle teases, and the food, spooned generously and casually between plans for a weekend drive to Wales, and Phil's account of a morning spent delivering mail up the Oxo Tower. 'I used to be a postman too,' Hartnett says, 'I loved it. But I was so scared of this one dog that I'd post all their mail back in the postbox. Poor buggers.' After the pasta, there are the sardines, which are almost sweet in their saltiness, and a spoonful of red-pepper stew. Alfie gazes on hungrily. 'When my mum comes for lunch next week we're going to get a little chair for Alfie,' says Hartnett drily, 'and he can have his own dish at the table. She'll go mad.'

Behind the table, a group of pots hold plants that her family bring when the sisters have parties. 'We have a deal. I cook, and they'll make the garden look nice. But I'm a lazy cook, really. I mean, if I'm making a tart, usually I'll buy the pastry. I find it easier to cook in Italy - everything's right there, to hand. If you're by the sea, you know, you'll have fish. When we visit my aunt, on the coast, we'll always have a vongole and then some peaches,' she says, hands clasped in pleasure.

Her cousins spoon out whole peaches and lemon sorbet, which is melting quickly in the sun. The family chatter continues in low gentle rises - they giggle about the recent Taste of London festival, where Hartnett was approached by her 'lesbian fan club' - and they compliment the sorbet with its vodka splash. As we clear the plates away, down to the cool of the kitchen, I ask Hartnett if her family meals are always so idyllic. She stops and thinks for a second. 'I was living in Italy one summer when I was 11, and I really didn't want to be there. I wanted to be back in England playing with my mates. My grandma left her minestra soup out on the veranda to cool, and I knocked it over. I got a good old bollocking for that. And recently, I bought some gazpacho from Waitrose, and garnished it to make it look like I'd made it. Then of course everybody saw the plastic cartons stacked in the dishwasher. Another time I pretended I'd made shortbread ice cream, when I'd just mixed bought biscuits into vanilla.' When you've been awarded a Michelin star, apparently the stakes are higher, even at home. 'But Gordon Ramsay was the one who taught me not to use short cuts. He taught me about standards, and consistency.' Have you ever cooked for him at home? 'No!' she shrieks. 'No way. I don't mix my work and my social life. He hears about my parties from friends, and then asks why I didn't invite him. I'll have him at my 40th birthday though, I suppose.' What do you see yourself doing when you leave Gordon's stable? She smiles. 'I think I'll end up running a little restaurant, with the dog, in Italy or California, either by the sea or in the mountains. Somewhere I can hear the quiet.'

·Share your favourite Italian places on the food blog
· Murano opens 21 August at 20-22 Queen Street, London W1.

Orecchiette con salsiccia, finocchio e prezzemolo
(Orecchiette with sausage, fennel and flat-leaf parsley)

Serves 4

2 tbs olive oil

2 small red onions, sliced finely

1 head of fennel, sliced

1 clove garlic, crushed

3 Italian sausages

1 x 400g tin of good-quality Italian tomatoes

100ml water

450g orecchiette

2 tbs chopped flat-leaf parsley

In a pan heat the olive oil. Add the onions, fennel and crushed garlic. Sauté without colouring for 3-4 minutes until they start to soften. Add the sausage in 1cm pieces and sauté. Add the tomatoes and water and simmer for 10 minutes until the sauce has thickened. Meanwhile cook the orecchiette in salted boiling water. When ready, drain well and serve with the sauce. Finish with the parsley.

Sardine ripiene di stufato di peperoni rossi
(Stuffed sardines with red-pepper stew)

Serves 4

For the pepper stew:

3 large Romero peppers, split down the centre lengthways and sliced thinly

2 cloves garlic

4 tbs olive oil

2 sprigs of thyme

200ml water

2 tsp chopped basil

For the stuffed sardines:

8-12 sardines, heads and bones removed

1 small bunch flat-leaf parsley

1 clove garlic

4 anchovies

200g dry bread

zest of one lemon

To make the stew, heat the oil in a pan. Add the peppers and garlic and sauté. Add the water and thyme and cook until soft avoiding any colour. Finish with the chopped basil. In a food processor add the parsley, garlic, anchovies, lemon zest and bread. Blitz together to form a crumb-like mix. Wash the sardines and pat until dry. Take the breadcrumb mix and stuff into the sardines. Place in a lightly greased dish. Bake in the oven for 10 minutes at 180°C /gas 4. Serve with pepper stew.

Spaghetti con gamberetti e rucola
(Spaghettini with shrimps and rocket)

Serves 4

450g dried spaghettini

olive oil

2 gloves of garlic, crushed

1 dried chilli, crushed

20 medium-sized raw shrimps (or prawns), peeled and cleaned

a dash of white wine, to deglaze

6 large tomatoes, quartered and de-seeded

2 handfuls of rocket

Cook the pasta. Put some olive oil in a large frying pan. Add the crushed garlic and chilli. Lightly sauté but do not allow to colour. Add the shrimps or prawns and cook until pink - about a minute. Deglaze with a dash of white wine. Add the tomatoes and allow them to break down to form a sauce. Drain the pasta and toss in the sauce. Finish with the rocket and serve immediately.

Sorbetto al limone con insalata di frutta
(Lemon sorbet with fruit salad)

Serves 6

250g caster sugar

250ml water

1 tsp clear honey

200ml lemon juice

zest of 1 lemon

In a pan add the sugar, water and honey and slowly simmer to allow the sugar to dissolve. Simmer for 2 minutes. Remove from the heat and allow to cool, then add the lemon juice and zest. Check the sweetness and, if needed, add another spoonful of honey.

Freeze in a container and, as it starts to set, mix with a fork and continue to do this every couple of hours until frozen (this prevents large ice crystals forming). Serve over a summer fruit salad - I like using peaches, strawberries and basil.