Iron-effin-chefin’, that’s what

Where have I been today? You mean, besides helping Bare Rump with her Smart Bitches Day post? (She uses way too many semicolons. I get on her about that all the time. Unfortunately, I have to allow her a few semicolons, or else she’ll flick her butt hairs in my face.) And besides writing up next Thursday’s Thirteen (bwaahahahahaha)?

I’ve been playing Iron Chef today, that’s what I’ve been doing.

You remember this guy:

Don’t run the other way. It won’t bite. Today, I made two different kinds of ravioli with two different sauces because, ya know, if you’re gonna do one, it ain’t that tough to do two.

The menu:

Yam ravioli in sage butter sauce

Spinach and cheese ravioli in tomato sauce

We’ll take it one step at a time.

The Fillings . . .

1. Bake one red yam at 400F. Go play Civilization III and clobber the hell out of Queen Elizabeth. She deserves it — she wouldn’t give you Birmingham for free, and you asked her nicely, too. Forget about the yam until the smell of caramel comes wafting in and your wife says, “Hey, what are you making? It smells good,” and then you say, “OH HOLY SHIT I FORGOT THE YAM!”

Which, by now, has caramelized so well you can’t even peel the foil off.

Let the yam cool. Scoop out the yam guts into a bowl and add one large egg, a half teaspoon of salt, one or two teaspoons of brown sugar, and several grindings of nutmeg (about 1/8 teaspoon). Add two to three heaping tablespoons of plain bread crumbs. Beat the whole thing up into an orange mess. Stick it in the fridge until you’re ready to make raviolis.

2. Saute a pound of spinach leaves in olive oil until cooked. Drain and cool. Put the cooked spinach into the work bowl of a food processor along with one teaspoon of salt, one large egg, several grindings of black pepper, eight ounces of ricotta cheese, and one-half cup of grated parmigiano reggiano. Process it like crazy, stopping intermittently to scrape down the sides of the work bowl. Taste it and correct for salt and pepper. Stick it in the fridge, yatta yatta.

The tomato sauce . . .

Don’t worry about the sage butter sauce. That’s dead easy, and you’ll do it while you’re waiting for the pasta water to boil.

Rinse and dry 1-2 pounds of good quality tomatoes. Cut them in half, and place them in a baking dish cut side up. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. I added two or three tablespoons of a mixture of shallots and garlic, and the sauce was pleasantly oniony. I also added a half teaspoon of crushed red pepper flakes. Finally, add 1/4 to 1/2 cup of olive oil. Put it into a 400F oven on the top rack.

Bake at least an hour (this is when you should work on the pasta — see below). You’ll know it’s ready because the onions will be brown and the liquid will be simmering. Remove from the oven. Flip over the tomatoes and peel the hot buggers — don’t complain, just do it. You’ll figure it out. Utensils help. Mash the tomatoes, stir well, correct for salt and pepper. Keep it in the oven while you’re finishing everything else, but don’t overcook it.

While you’re roasting your tomatoes,

Basic pasta dough . . .

One cup of unbleached, all purpose flour
Two large eggs, beaten
One tablespoon of olive oil, beaten into the eggs

Mound the flour onto a big cutting board, and make a well in the center. Add the eggs/oil to the well. Using your fingers, slowly work the flour into the liquid. Yes, it’s a mess, but you will eventually have a ball of dough.

Knead the dough for eight minutes, adding more flour if the dough gets sticky. The dough should get smooth as a college cheerleader’s bottom (much more interesting than a baby’s bottom, hmm?)

Cut the dough into four equal pieces and work each piece into a ball. Take a ball, flatten it into a disk, and run it through the machine at the widest setting (number 1). I run it through twice, crank it down to number 2, run it through twice, and so forth, all the way down to number 8. Yes, I know the machine goes to 9. Don’t go there.

I usually have to dust the sheet with flour at around number 3 and again at number 6 or 7. As you roll it thinner and thinner, the dough has a tendency to get damper. Rather like that college cheerleader.

Lay it out on a paper towel and repeat the whole thing with a second ball of dough. You should now have two roughly equal sheets of dough laid parallel to one another. (You still have two more balls of dough, so when you’re done making these ravioli, you’re ready to make another set.)

Preparation

This is one of those trial and error, no substitute for experience things. First time I tried this, I was damned glad that I had another two balls of pasta dough in reserve, because oh boy did I mangle the first batch.

Visualize the raviolis. I’m not kidding. Visualize them. This will keep you from crowding too many lumps of filling onto your sheets. Plop out about one teaspoon of filling for every ur-ravioli. Once you’ve filled the sheet, lay the second sheet on top of it. Now run your finger between the lumps in such a way as to shoo out the air. Air is evil.

If this makes no sense whatsoever, take a look at this website. With pictures, even. (But you do NOT need to use an egg wash to get the layers to stick together!)

Once you have pressed out all the air, use one of these to cut your raviolis:

That way, you’ll get those cool fluted edges.

Next, I gingerly pry each and every ravioli off the paper towel and rest it on a well floured cutting board. If you leave the raviolis on the paper towel, or, God forbid, you rest them on a dish, they’ll stick. Remember, your filling has moisture. That’s how I screwed up my first batch, back in the old days.

Finish making all of your raviolis.

Get your big fat pot o’ water boiling for the pasta. Yes, I salt it and I add oil. While you’re waiting for the water to boil, make the sage butter sauce.

Sage Butter Sauce

In a frying pan, melt a half-stick of butter (1/4 cup) over low heat. Slice fresh sage leaves into strips. I use about 1/2 cup of sliced leaves. Add the leaves to the butter, and cook over low heat until the sage has darkened and become crispy, and the butter has browned. Easy.

The last word

Fresh raviolis cook quickly. I doubt I had to boil them for longer than two minutes. Fish them out using a slotted spoon, and add them to the appropriate sauce. Serve hot hot hot with crusty bread and freshly grated parmigiano reggiano (for the spinach-cheese raviolis).

Remember

Nothing says lovin’ like raviolis in the, um, stomach?

Really the last word

You’ll have lots of leftover filling. I made a double recipe of pasta, so tomorrow I’m going to make lasagna with the leftover spinach-cheese filling. Oh, and homemade pasta makes amazing lasagna.

Close to three hours this time, but I made stuffed artichokes, too, and I got distracted a few times. No one’s complaining.

D.