… to take a walk down memory lane. A few weeks ago I started thinking about my grandma’s ravioli, something I didn’t eat since, well, at least 10 years or so. Boy, I loved that stuff: when I was a kid, from time to time me and my brother used to spend the weekend with our grandma, and quite often we were rewarded with this wonderful bag of mixed roasted meat and vegetables, sprinkled with cheese and stuffed into a weird looking pasta envelope. All handmade, of course. I loved waking up late in the morning and sip a giant cup of bread and milk in a warm kitchen while my grandmother was tossing out ravioli at lighting speed: those were times when you were pretty safe in eating raw eggs, so whenever my grandma wasn’t looking, me and my brother used to quickly steal some ravioli and eat them (raw!) from the wooden board they were resting on. I still remember my grandma yelling at us…
(Note for non-italians: I’m not talking about the ravioli you’ve been used to. The shape and filling are quite different, and you can find them only in a rather limited area of Piemonte. If you want the recipe, look for “ravioli al plin”. Actually someone may argue these aren’t ravioli but rather “agnolotti”… I never quite got the difference, but we always called them ravioli, so I’m reluctant to change).
Anyway, last week we were at my parents place, and I asked my mother about the original recipe of grandma. Armed with the result, it took me the best part of a Sunday to prepare everything: I had to roast beef and pork meat, cook vegetables, mince all together, prepare the dough, roll it, lay down small nuggets of filling, pinch everything (“plin” in Piemonte means “pinch”). In the end I think I came pretty close to the result I remembered (I can do much better on the filling, though):
The result, seasoned with the roast meat sauce, was definitely impressive:
My journey into memories, though, reached the top when I figured out that I’m an adult now, so I qualify to eat ravioli with wine, something my granpa used to do. Yes, you got it right: no seasoning at all, just pour some good red wine in a cup and fill with hot ravioli. Eat it all and, in the end, sip the warm wine, enriched with flavours coming from the ravioli:
The really good news is that we managed to cook and eat just half of the ravioli load we’ve been doing yesterday… the remaining ones are in the freezer waiting for the next occasion: want to be my guest?