Cheap Ingredients x (Work + Time) = Tastiness

Today we made ravioli (a preliminary lexicographic note: "ravioli" is plural, like "panini"; no terminal s is required. See, mom, my semester in Italy was useful). This project was inspired by my niece Eileen's newly-minted obsession with ravioli, and by a somewhat-recent trip to visit my aunt Eileen (for whom the niece is named) during which the pasta machine was pressed into service. This is the same aunt who taught me about pesto. She's the kind of cook I'd like to be but will never become: unpretentious, able to improvise, never makes it look difficult. Most of all, she's not show-offy with her cooking. When she throws a dinner party, the food is at the center of the gathering and quality ingredients, prepared simply and well. are at the center of the meal. Last summer when I visited, she made fresh pasta look like something one might just throw together.

For me, it wasn't quite that simple. The location of my pasta machine was the first obstacle. Once the machine itself was located, the handle, without which its dough-flattening drums wouldn't turn, remained elusive. The machine was also in rough shape. At some point, the Two Dudes realized that it could be used to shred paper (a secondary use I've since seen highlighted in Real Simple, the magazine for the type of person who has an extra pasta machine lying around). There was some rusty-looking crud in its undercarriage that made me decide its days in food production were over. I never thought I'd live long enough to purchase a second pasta machine, but there it is in the pictures above, cranking out sheets of dough.

I long thought you had to use semolina flour (not cheap) to make pasta. False. This recipe used two cups of regular old flour, three eggs (from the chickens featured in the previous post) and a tiny tinch of water. Food processor, rest 15 minutes, finished. Through trial and error we were soon producing long, translucently-thin strips of dough. The filling is a mixture of 1 cup ricotta, 1/2 cup each grated mozzarella and parmesan, one egg yolk, some chopped fresh basil, 1/2 tsp salt and 1/8 tsp pepper, mixed together. You don't need a handy ravioli-frame like mine (last picture) but it helps, and makes for uniform ravioli. Eileen told me that I reminded her of Ma Ingalls from the "Little House" books because I like my food to "look pretty." She has no idea that I also wear a mobcap and eat popcorn with my husband in bed. Heh.