Sunday, January 9, 2011

Nurturing my inner... family tree

Homemade pasta evokes all your senses.  It conjures up delightfully subtle smells, scenes of portly grandmothers kneading dough with wrinkled hands, and promises a rare taste of the divine on the end of a fork.  Because of an inborn desire that I'm certain came from my Sicilian genetics, I embarked on quite an adventure nearly one year ago: learn to make homemade pasta.  I gotta tell ya - it was awesome!  So the same friend who hurled herself into this manual task the first time with me (who is not Italian in the least, but hails from Long Island which was good enough for me) was graciously up for it again.  (Dora, you are either very loyal or very crazy!  Knowing the ideas I come up with, I'd say it's the latter.)  It's super fun to do, really tastes great and you'll be so pleased that you gave it a chance.  So give it a chance!

I wanted to make two types of ravioli this time.  I had left over sausage and sage from Thanksgiving, so those would be some of my filling ingredients.

Sausage and Sage Ravioli Filling

1 cup ricotta, part skim
1 egg, beaten
1 cup cooked sausage & sage mixture
2 tsp Parmesan cheese, grated
1/2 tsp salt
1/3 cup mozzarella cheese, shredded


Right out of the freezer. Well, defrosted,
of course.

Fresh herbs add a real flavor blast.


Since I had it, might as well use it.

Saute the sausage until it's cooked and add the chopped sage. 


Just takes a few minutes.

Ingredients for the fillings on Dora's counter top.


Cheese and cheese.

Both bases start with ricotta, egg, salt and Parmesan.  Then they slightly diverge.


Egg makes it fluffy and light.

Add the extra ingredients and mix.  In this case, the sausage and sage.


Lots of flavor in the sausage.

Add mozzarella last thing and your filling is ready.


Hearty, yet cheesy.

Cheese filling is easy to make too.

Basil and Ricotta Ravioli Filling

1 cup ricotta, part skim
1 egg, beaten
2 tbsp fresh basil, chopped
2 tsp Parmesan cheese, grated
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt
1/3 cup mozzarella cheese, shredded

Same thing as earlier.  Add ricotta, egg, salt and Parmesan.  Then for this one, toss in the fresh, chopped basil and the nutmeg.


Fresh basil is key.

The flecks of green are not only visually appealing, but also really take the flavor to a whole new level dried herbs just cannot.


Familiar looking to you now.

I cover the bowls with the fillings and put them into the fridge while I make the dough.

Basic Pasta Dough Recipe

2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp olive oil
1 egg
tepid water as needed (yep, you're gonna have to go by your intuition on this one)

I'd like to make the dough the traditional way.  Where you find a clean, preferably granite or marble counter top, add your pile of flour, make a well like a volcano.  Add the egg, salt and olive oil, and with a fork, beat the eggs into the sides of the flour well, slowly pulling in more of the sides as you go along until it's all sticky.  Adding little bits of water until it's a smooth consistency.  Sadly, we didn't do it that way.  We mixed it in a bowl, then we kneaded it for five or so minutes to get that gluten really going and formed it into a ball.  Then covered it with a towel and let rest for 15 - 30 minutes.  While we're waiting, this is a good time to talk about a book I read over Christmas break called "The Lost Ravioli Recipes of Hoboken" by Laura Schenone.

I had been searching on YouTube for videos to watch that I might improve my pasta making skills, when I came across this one from Laura Schenone.  In her quest to discover more about her personal family heritage, she traveled several times to Northern Italy in search of 1.) details about her great grandmother, 2.) an authentic ravioli filling recipe instead of what had seemed to have been altered over time as it was passed down the generations and 3.) in person lessons on how to make dough with a long rolling pin instead of a pasta machine.  Along the way she tells very real and heartwarming stories of the ups and downs in her current family as well as her historical one.  She really captivates you with her ever curious spirit.

Granted, I'm an American with an Italian heritage, so this book was particularly meaningful to me, but anyone in search of their own family history, with a desire to preserve unique traditions, will enjoy it.  Plus Laura sounds like a really delightful and interesting woman.  While reading her book I found myself once again longing for something.  For people in my life who want to take an entire day and make meals from scratch while they tell me about their grandmothers.  Who are willing to discuss different techniques they've read up on.  Who don't need every electronic item in the house on for mindless amusement and can relate to another human being through actual everyday face-to-face, sometimes awkward, conversation instead.  Now that it's 2011 and we're so overwhelmed with laptops, cellphones and streaming video, is this simplicity irretrievably gone forever?  Have we finally come too far, permanently past a one way threshold, to ever get that back again?  I really hope not.  I'm going to do my individual part in historical preservation of less complicated days by buying a ravioli rolling pin next.


The travel, the people, the recipes -
you'll want to read all about them
for yourself.

As I drove back to Virginia from Connecticut just a week after finishing her  book, I remember passing through New Jersey thinking, "Wouldn't it be fun to spend the day with Laura making ravioli."  If only life were that simple and quick connections like that remotely possible.  I guess for now, I'll have to entice my ever busy, workaholic Northern Virginia friends to slow down and cook with me.  The reward will be well worth it.

Now back to well rested dough.

Didn't look any different to me now, than it did 15
minutes ago, but I think some magic happened.

Cut the dough into four pieces.  Take out one and cover the other three so they don't dry out.


Not convincing yet, but just you wait!

Dora borrowed a pasta maker from her friend.  I hadn't considered other types of pasta making until Laura's book.  Until I can get around to learning more about the rolling pin method, and/or finding someone to help me learn, a machine will have to do.

This is the first chunk going through the largest setting on the machine.  You need to pass it through several times to stretch out that gluten.  Fold and crank, fold and crank.  Right now, you can see how the dough is sort of cracking.  It will get smoother in time.


Hand-cranked and just getting started.

Then you change the dial to one thinner, fold it and send it through again a couple of times.  Dial down one thinner again and keep doing it until you get to your desired thickness for whatever type of pasta you are making.


It helps to have two sets of hands with a
manual hand cranked pasta machine.

The sheets can get really long.  Here I am holding onto a final, delicate sheet.


All smiles. This stuff is exciting.

First attachment, linguine.  Comes out perfectly even.


This couldn't be easier. See.

You can dry the pasta by hanging it on a drying rack or what we did was pile it into little nests.  Easy to store this way.


I prefer this as they break less than when
they are straight pieces.

On to the little pillows.  Lay out a sheet on a well-floured space.

You definitely don't want it to stick to your
work surface.

Put down a dollop of filling a bit over an inch apart until you fill up the sheet.


Filling will decide the size of the ravioli.

Use your fingertips to dip in a bowl and wet the edges of the dough so that when you put on the next layer, it will stick and seal the ravioli shut.


Be light on the water. Don't flood it.

Add another layer of pasta gently on top.


A thin blanket of dough.

Run the side of your hand down the middle and then work out all the air around each dollop.  Air expands in hot water and can make the ravioli burst when you cook it, so you want to try and remove all bubbles.


Looks as good as your grandma's ravioli.

I haven't gone for fancy edges thus far, and don't yet own a pastry cutter, so a sharp knife will slice them up into rustic versions that work for me.


I didn't want to trim them up too much. I like
the rugged look that this gives the pasta.

We lined up parchment paper and dusted them with flour, some people use cornmeal, and then laid out the ravioli to dry.


I can hardly wait.

Before you know it, you'll have dozens of them.


Really, could it get better than this?

After you touch them and they appear firm, you can stack them on one another keeping either parchment or waxed paper in between so they don't stick to one another.  If you plan to freeze some like we did.  We took large plastic containers, (you can use baggies too, but I liked the structure of a container), and put layer upon layer.  One with meat filling, the next with cheese.


Can't eat them all in one sitting. Though they
look so good, you may want to try.

For the ones you are going to cook that day, let them dry for a little bit, then toss them into boiling, salted water until they are aldente.  It will take about 5 - 8 minutes depending on their size and your stove.  They will float when they are done.


And up they come.

Drain and place on a plate.


I have three sausage and two cheese above.
It's easier to tell after they've been cooked.

We were pretty darn hungry at this point, so we made a quick and simple pasta sauce by sauteing garlic in olive oil, then adding a can of crushed tomatoes, some dried oregano, fresh basil, letting it simmer until it thickened up.  We supplemented that with some garlic bread.


Well earned carbohydrate overload!

Eating ravioli that you made yourself will bring you a satisfaction like little else can.  Just like Laura Schenone, I felt close to my own great grandmothers, with every lovely bite.  (And I'm not even good at it yet.)  I am certain that if I could meet Nuna, as my mother called her mother's mother, right now, we would get along just fine.  Relating to each other across the generations, beyond the languages, technology and history, over cherished recipes and age old techniques.  Perhaps wordlessly kneading dough and cutting ravioli in little more than shared silence with an occasional knowing smile.  After all, some connections are well past the need for words.

I'll leave you with this thought today: What is most simple should not be lost.

1 comment:

  1. Had a great time making the pasta with you. Any time...you're a wonderful chef.

    ReplyDelete