after dinner sneeze

t says: Sometimes, there exists a dish that you can eat continuously, no matter how satiated you may feel.  Your mouth takes over your brain (much to the chagrin of your stomach), and your only thought is “must … keep … eating”.  There are only a few dishes that can do this to me – one of them is g’s grandfather’s ravioli.

Affectionately referred to as “pop-pop” (among other choice words, right Frank?), g’s grandfather possesses a recipe for ravioli stemming from his childhood, back when his family actually sold ravioli.  Trust me, selling ravioli in the area where we grew up was probably not an easy task, given that every Italian family (and there’s a lot of them) likely had their own recipe.  But, while I haven’t sampled every Jersey family’s ravioli, g’s grandfather’s is the best I have encountered.

Looks plain, but you have no idea ...

So how do you make these fabled ravioli?  Well, the easiest way is to make it with him. g and I have done this, acting as his helpers.  I noted that no single action is particularly “hard” or “difficult” or “impossible” – but doing it “just right” requires a certain finesse that apparently only comes with years of practice, a commitment to perfectionism, and a “critical” eye to recognize when something’s working well or needs to be tweaked.  It requires a ravioli “marker” (think rolling pin with divots to shape the ravioli), a piece of equipment that no Williams Sonoma or Kitchen Kapers carries.  Finally, the ingredients are very specific – there is a very particular way in which the ground veal must be sourced (so I’ve been told).  The flour: it absolutely must be Pillsbury brand all-purpose flour.

Unfortunately, if I told you anything more, I’d certainly have to kill you …