My father is Italian. My grandfather was a butcher. The man knows food. He also knows, well, I think he knows everything. He also get's that everyone has their own taste. We do not share a pallet. He cannot partake in heat like I can, he dosen't overindulge in cheese like I do, and he ENJOYS bitter food. While I would say he enjoys food, he could just as easily make a sandwich and not be bothered.
My mother is not Italian. My grandmother was a casserole slinging, Mac and cheese making, here have a sandwich kind of lady. In spite of this, my mother has an exquisite pallet. Whether she likes a taste or not, she gets it. She is aware of it. It effects the way the other food will taste. She is terrifying to cook for. She ENJOYS food the way I do. It is more than just nourishment, it is a moment in time you will never experience the EXACT same way you are experiencing it at that very moment.
I digress. I have been dying to try to make my own ravioli. I don't own a pasta maker. I don't own a lot of things I really feel I should own for my kitchen. The main culprit currently is this little guy
Is it weird that I hear "Isn't she lovely" by Stevie Wonder in my head every time I see this.
So when I make pasta, it's the old fashion way. Flour, eggs, water, olive oil on a counter-top. Doughy handed I mush and mush until I feel like it's right. The reason I have yet to make ravioli is because, well, because it's really hard. You have to make it so thin. So perfect. Otherwise it's so damn heavy. And you have to cut it just right. And I don't have a ravioli cutter. Or ravioli pan thingys. The potential for disaster has just been too damn high for me to take the risk. Until now....
I had been dying to make a basil-tarragon pesto. Normal pesto sauce except I use peanuts instead of pine nuts (still toasted) and the addition of tarragon adds a bright note I have grown to love.Cooking for my parents and Kay I knew seafood was the right way to in lieu of stuffing. Ricotta, shrimp, arugula, mozzarella and some grated pecorino romano cheese.
So all that was left was the construction. This part was the nerve racking part. This was not a disaster, per se, but it was NOT one of the best dishes I have put together. The dough was too damn think. It was tasty, but it was really really thick. I couldn't get it thin enough to hold the filling. It was depressing. I was sad. I still am sad.
As I said, overall it was not a disaster, but not a raving success. My parents were kind as always and Kay likes anything I cook. It was a great night regardless of the food faux pas. I plan on trying to make them again soon. Not sure what the hell to do differently other than roll and roll and roll and roll. We'll see. Tonight I brine a Turkey (hard cider, all spice, peppercorns, cinnamon, salt, sugar). Tomorrow, Friendsgiving (Thanksgiving all over again for my closest group of friends). Pictures to follow.
Off to look for something else to eat....