You know that moment? When you're at a restaurant, and out comes this golden, crunchy little square—hot, greasy in the best way, and begging to be dipped in marinara? Yeah. That’s toasted ravioli. And no, it’s not actually toasted. It’s breaded, baked (or fried), and basically happiness in bite-sized form.
I used to think you needed a deep fryer and a chef’s hat to make it. Turns out? Nah. My version skips the oil bath, goes straight to the oven, and still crunches like it was born in a St. Louis diner.
And look—mine isn’t perfect. Sometimes one ravioli puffs up like a balloon. Sometimes I forget to space them out and they fuse into a cheesy mutant cluster. But that’s real life, right?
Let’s make some magic.
1 lb fresh cheese ravioli
Not frozen. Fresh. There’s a difference. Frozen ones hold moisture. They steam. They get soggy. Fresh? They crisp up. They hold their shape. Plus, they taste like someone’s nonna made them (even if it was just the guy at the grocery store deli).
2 large eggs + 2 tablespoons water
This is your glue. The egg wash. Without it, the crumbs just… fall off. Sad. The water thins the eggs so they coat smoother. Don’t skip it. Do it. Whisk it. Make it look like scrambled eggs but don’t cook it. Yet.
1 cup plain panko breadcrumbs
Panko = crunch. Regular breadcrumbs? They’re soft. Panko’s got air in it. Light. Crispy. Like a cereal crunch but better. And golden. So golden.
¼ cup grated parmesan (powder form works!)
Parm adds salt, umami, and a little sass. Powder? It mixes easier. Fresh? Also fine. Just grate it small. Nobody wants a parmesan rock in their bite.
2 teaspoons Italian seasoning
It’s like a little vacation in a bottle. Oregano, basil, maybe some thyme. Whatever’s in there—it makes it taste like Italy, even if you’ve never been.
1 teaspoon garlic powder
Not fresh garlic. That burns. This? It just whispers, “Hey, I’m here. I’m delicious.”
1 teaspoon kosher salt
Season the crumbs, not the ravioli. The cheese inside is already salty. You don’t want to overdo it. But the coating? Needs flavor. Salt wakes it up.
Cooking spray
For the rack. And the ravioli. A little oil = crisp. No oil = sad, pale, floppy squares. We don’t want that.
Marinara sauce (your favorite)
This isn’t optional. It’s law. Warm it. Don’t serve it cold. That’s a crime against joy.
Put the oven rack in the lower middle. Preheat to 425°F. Hot. But not lava-hot. Just crisp-ready hot.
Grab a rimmed baking sheet. Put a wire rack on top. Spray it with cooking spray. Don’t skip the rack. It lifts the ravioli, lets air flow, keeps the bottoms from steaming. Soggy bottoms = tragedy.
Get a shallow dish. Pie plate? Perfect. Bowl? Fine. Crack in two eggs. Add two tablespoons of water. Whisk. Fast. Until it’s yellow and smooth and looks like… well, egg soup.
Drop one ravioli in. Flip it. Let the extra drip off. Don’t shake it like you’re mad at it. Just let it hang for a sec.
In another dish, mix the panko, parmesan, Italian seasoning, garlic powder, and salt. Stir it. Taste a crumb? Maybe. (I do. Judge me.)
Now—here’s the trick. Don’t dump the ravioli into the crumbs and roll it like a meatball. That makes the mix wet. Gross.
Instead: place the egg-coated ravioli in one spot on the crumb mix. Spoon the crumbs over the top. Press gently with your fingers. Flip. Spoon more. Press again. Like you’re tucking it into bed. But a crunchy, delicious bed.
Place it on the rack. Leave space. At least an inch. They’re not hugging at the gym. They need room to crisp.
Repeat. Don’t rush. Put on music. Hum. Talk to the cat.
Once they’re all on the rack, give the tops a light spritz of cooking spray. Just a hiss. Not a downpour.
Into the oven. 15 to 20 minutes. Watch them. Around 10 minutes, peek. If they’re browning too fast? Cover loosely with foil. But don’t walk away. They burn easy. Like toast. But worse.
When they’re golden, crispy, and look like they belong on a food blog? Done.
Okay. Real talk. They start losing crisp the second they come out. But you can slow the decline.
Yes. And honestly? Kinda better.
Preheat air fryer to 400°F.
Spray the basket.
Put ravioli in single layer. Not touching.
Spray tops lightly.
Air fry 8–10 minutes. Flip halfway.
They come out insanely crispy. Like, “did you deep fry these?” crispy. But you didn’t. Win.
Crispy Toasted Ravioli isn’t really toasted—it’s breaded, baked (or air-fried), and wildly addictive. Golden, crunchy on the outside, warm and cheesy in the center, these little squares are a St. Louis classic with a home-kitchen twist. This version skips the deep fryer, uses fresh ravioli, and gets that perfect crunch from panko breadcrumbs. Serve them hot with warm marinara for dipping, and watch them disappear. Great for game day, weeknight snacks, or impressing guests without breaking a sweat.
Servings 8
* Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet. Your daily value may be higher or lower depending on your calorie needs.
I’m a London-based food writer, recipe developer, and home cook who has been passionate about cooking for over 15 years. What started as a way to recreate my mother’s traditional dishes turned into a lifelong love for experimenting with flavors, writing about food, and helping others feel more confident in the kitchen.
