Cooking Pasta Part II - Adventures in Ravioli Making

It was one of the loveliest evenings since I can remember. The specialness of this one laid in its spontaneity.

But first, a little background:

Tiziana was one of the first, and certainly most eager students who came to my yoga classes here in GDL. After class, one day, we started talking about our mutual love for food. She seemed more excited and excitable than your average GDL resident. She casually blurted out that she had been born in Bologna, Italy and came to Mexico as a young child. For work, she runs a lasagna shop with her sister Patricia.

“Lasagna, you said?” I asked and without waiting for an answer I bragged about my lasagna. We both got so excited to have this other thing in common. We agreed to exchange lasagnas. It was understood that hers was artesanal and mine was rustic.

At the start of the next yoga class, lasagnas were exchanged with relentless giddiness. I went home ate mine and loved it! Tiz explained that the pasta was made from scratch at her shop. I lamented how much I missed good Italian food since moving to GDL. Whining, I confessed my desire to learn to how to make ravioli.

“Easy!” She exclaimed. “How about you come over to the shop and my sister and I will make it happen.” I nodded with excitement. Then she added “Oh, we like to drink red wine while cooking. Is that OK with you?” By now I was ready to hug this woman and declare her my new best friend.

And so, the night came. It was a Thursday night. I like to go out on Thursday nights because of its unpretentious way of almost being the weekend. The air was festive already. The shop was small and beautifully appointed -- efficient, with clean lines, gorgeous white roses in a couple of places, and the smell of deliciousness was unquestionably the most important guest this evening.

Tiz and Patricia were hosting and two of their friends joined: Tere, a happy, energetic woman, who brought the white roses and was ready to crack some jokes, and Lorena a warm woman of wise words, thoughtful questions, and a good record as a world traveler. So, on to the business at hand: Ravioli making! I mean, look at my face in the pictures. Do I not look just so excited? Sometimes, it amazes me how little it takes to get me to this state. I like this sort of high.

Patricia was full of charm and ready to “teach” me. She handed me an official "Lasagna e Via" apron. She really meant business. Her patience and methodology told me: she’s done this a lot of times so I was eager to be learned. Oh, and don’t mess with her!

The dough had been made and ready to be rolled out. Pat kindly offered to teach me how to mix the dough but in the interest of time, we continued with what we had. First, we mixed the very simple filling:

1 tbsp of parsley
2 cups of Requesón (the Mexican version of Ricotta)
1 egg yolk
Salt and pepper to taste

Next, she introduced me to the process of prepping the dough before using the pasta machine so, she instructed me to massage it out a bit and then use the rolling pin to make the starting, albeit thick, sheet of pasta. fter that, the pasta making machine came out and I was taught to put the dough through, starting at the highest setting, cranking the handle, and continuing the process, lowering the setting until the pasta was thin enough for ravioli. We were to make two long sheets of pasta. As soon as you’re done with the first sheet, you cover it so that it doesn’t lose moisture.

For the last sheet, Tiz taught me how to stick a parsley leaf and put it through the machine and see how the leaf becomes big and thin; it looked like a cool tattoo.

Now, we’re ready to put the ravioli together. By now, wine’s been guzzled down. With everyone abuzz, the room was getting warm thanks to the laughter, my hard, happy work, and for the big pot of boiling water for the pasta to cook.

I laid out one of sheets in front of me, cut it in half, and then trimmed around the edges to make them into rectangles of the same size. One half-sheet stays on the counter and we spoon the cheese filling in little gobs leaving enough space to comfortably sew the ravioli together. This is a good time to decide on the size of each ravioli. Will it be ravioli, raviolini, or raviolocho? The one with the parsley tattoo will have to be a raviolocho.

With the bottom half-sheet all set with the filling, we evenly set the second half-sheet on top and iron out any pockects of air with our fingers. Then we use the special pasta cutter to cut while sewing the edges off leaving the familiar ridges all around.

We set the ravioli on a tray lined with a cloth napkin and then covered them with another cloth napkin. We try to minimize exposure to the air. With the water boiling, and ravioli ready, we throw them in to cook for no more than 3 minutes. By now, Tiziana was busy making the sauce:

2 cups of butter
2 tbsp chopped sage

With the ravioli out, Tiz tossed them in the butter sauce. She had already made a caeser’s salad. We sat down to eat, another bottle of wine was as necessary as the next gasp of air after so much laughter. We accompanied the pasta and salad with sausage bread as well as sausage empanadas all previously made on-site and by hand. Can you feel the love?

With food in tummy, head abuzz, and an air of teamwork satisfaction, we all agree to do this again. Like a dinner club.

Since this is an Italian feast, there has got to be a simple dessert and a memorable after dinner drink. Tiz had made poached pears with raspberry sauce. Patricia surprised us with home-made mandarin limoncello – she called it mandaretto. I called it “OH MY GOD!” That’s all I can say for now.

Check out the slide show (click on the photo to see the title, hover toward to the top to get the previous and next buttons):



I went home with care packages, a bunch of white roses, a big smile on my face, the anticipation of learning more about making pasta and perhaps meeting the ladies for a mid-day Campari sometime soon.

On the ride home, I marveled at finding Italy in Mexico -- I would’ve never imagined it. I love peculiar coincidences like these; it fed my spirit and my tummy. What else can I ask for on this fine day?

A few weeks have gone by and when I see Tiziana, a little bit of the world reveals itself to me through her mediterranean spark . Pat will forever be my pasta making teacher. She already holds a prominent place along with all my other spiritual teachers.