Ravioli a Marinara

I feel guilty posting this immediately after a post about dieting. Nevertheless, I've been overdo for some experimental cooking. In retrospect, this may not seem like a particularly original or challenging recipe, but the experience was definitely worth the effort.

Before I get to the food, let me first outline the circumstances of this little adventure. I was dogsitting at my cousins' house for one night while they attended a friend's wedding. I brought Marianne along for company. And since we weren't able to leave the dogs alone in the house for very long (the whole reason we were there to begin with), we decided to stay in and cook something from scratch.

And this brings me to lesson one: for the love of God, always cook in your own kitchen. Even if you don't cook, chances are you know your way around your kitchen better than you think. At the very least, you'll be aware of the level of aggravation your kitchen requires. For example, I know that measuring spoons in my kitchen are scarce. But I know which drawers I have to scrounge around in the bottom of in order to find one. I'm prepared for that annoyance. However, in someone else's kitchen, you don't know if they have spoons, where they'd be, if they're all together, if they're clean, etc.

For some reason, cooking at my cousins' seemed like a good idea. That is until I needed things to cook with. Like a bowl. Or a spatula. Or a freaking egg. Now the pots, they're no problem. My cousin has the pots hanging from the ceiling. Which I think is a really cool idea, except all three of them are short enough to pass under them. Not me. Every time I walked into the kitchen it was like my head was a bowling ball headed for a strike. I felt like the Dude, only I didn't get to look up any skirts or meet Saddam Hussein along the way. Marianne and I spent the better part of an hour getting things together. And we still had to go to the grocery store to get things like flour and basil. Eventually we just said 'screw it' to any sort of measuring tool and eyeballed it.

And so we started cooking. Step one: open the cans. Now, if you've ever witnessed me attempt anything, you know that for every inch I take forward, I stumble back a foot. Aside from getting our ingredients and bowls together, our first challenge was operating an automatic can opener. ...Ugh, that fucking can opener. The magical one-step can opener that, as the YouTube videos proved, only requires you to plug it in and aim it at a can, and it picks it up, hooks in the blade, and quickly and thoroughly removes the lid. Well, that's not quite how it worked for us. I hold up the can, the magnet grabs it. So far, so good. Now push the blade in. It won't go in; it keeps retracting into the thing. Okay got it. Not push down on the lever. Okay...nothing happens. Do I hold it down? No, they say just press it once and it will go until it's done. Well, I'm pressing it and it's not working. Well let go of it! I let go and it turns off, look! But it works fine without the can on there. Except it doesn't, cuz its job is to open cans. And when the can's not on there, it's not being opened, is it? Okay, relax...is it plugged in? Of course it's plugged in! Why wouldn't it be plugged in? You heard the motor turn a second ago! Whaddya think I unplugged it? Well try pushing the lever again. Uh, I am trying. It turns on for a second and then stops. Ah shit, the can just fell off the magnet and splattered sauce everywhere. Which is impressive since the only hole we've created (by accident) is tiny! The video says that the blade is removable. Why would I want to remove the blade?! I want it to fucking cut something!! I HATE YOU, CAN OPENER! YOU EVIL FUCKING BASTARD! THAT'S IT! WE'RE GOING TO TARGET!

Except, cheap ass that I am, I buy the cheapest can opener i can find, for $1.50. We drive all the way back to the house only to find that this opener is not aligned correctly. Once you try to crank the handle, the gear just rotates against the side of the can, and nothing happens. Am I in the fucking Twilight Zone? Are these cans made of adamantium?! THAT'S IT! FUCK THIS! JUST GIVE ME A FUCKING KNIFE, OR FORK, OR WHATEVER!! FUCKING CAN LID! I'LL GET YOU OPEN! YOU THINK YOU CAN KEEP ME AWAY FROM THAT PRECIOUS PRECIOUS RED GOODNESS IN YOUR BELLY?! DIE! DIE!

(Now, if you've been paying attention, my last blog post was about a self-designed diet I've been trying to stick to. And at this point, I had eaten nothing all day and was two hours late for dinner. My teeth were grinding and my eye was starting to twitch. And I all I wanted was, if not to taste, than at least to just look at, some tomato sauce.)

This is the 21st century. I'm 22 years old. I'm a graduate student. And here I am jabbing at this can more desperately and deranged than a caveman on LSD trying to open a coconut with a banana.

You smug son of a bitch.

Anyways, once there were enough dents in what was left of the can to pour out the glorious contents, we set up the sauce and left it on the stove to simmer. This was my second time cooking a basic red sauce. And what I've learned is that the key is time. Just leave that baby simmering for as long as possible, and no less than an hour.

Next, onto the ravioli and the filling. My partner had the honors of making the dough, which was just flour, eggs, olive oil, and some water. Once that was good and mashed, it had to sit for half an hour. Meanwhile, I went to work on the filling, which was really just ricotta, mozzarella, and Parmesan cheese, with some basil, parsley, and oregano.

While that all sat for a bit, we had a good opportunity to clean up the disaster zone that was the kitchen counter and cabinets surrounding my crazed can infiltration.

Once it was time to make the pasta, we found ourselves without a rolling pin. First we used our hands. Then we tried squishing the dough with the bottom of a pot. Finally, I had the brilliant idea of using a wine bottle, which worked for a while. Then I had the even brighter idea of just texting my cousin and asking if she had one. Sure enough (she claimed) there was one in the cabinet next to the sink. Deep, deep in the back of the cabinet, behind a heap of pots and pans, I spotted, amidst the tarnished chrome and oil-stained metal, a hint of...was it maple? Like a miniature light from heaven had descended upon it, the handle of the rolling pin seemed to glimmer brighter and warmer than everything else. Victory at last.

Still pretty effective

Hm. I really only wanted 3 or 4.

That made the entire process much easier. Roll that bad boy out, plop on some filling, fold it over and pinch the ends closed. Needless to say, at this point, nearly three hours into the process, I was ravenous. And that's when i remembered the great thing about ravioli. They only need to boil for two minutes or so before they're ready for eating. And of course by now the sauce has had plenty of time to cook. Let's get this shit on the table!

Final verdict: absolutely mind-blowing. Okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, because I was starving. And just looking at it now is making my stomach rumble. But seriously, I really have no complaints. The sauce was tasty; my grandma might even have been proud. The ravioli were a bit chewy, but that comes with fresh-made pasta. In the future, I may try to roll the dough even thinner, or at least trim the edges a little closer so that it's not quite as thick and can absorb water faster. I also wasn't sure if the shredded mozzarella would melt into the rest of the cheese in the filling, but it did, and tasted fantastic. I know the meal seems simple, but it really is fun and relaxing to make, and by taking at least an hour, it gives your appetite a chance to grow.