Ravioli Date

Three eggs, their golden yolks lighting up like minature suns. Add a pinch of salt, dash of water, and a glug of olive oil to top off the well in the unbleached flour. The dry and the wet wait, anxious to become more than the sum of their parts. The stirring of a fork leads to mixing with fingers, soon becoming a pale yellow mass wanting to be kneaded with palms. With arms. With backs. Finally coalescing into a versatile dough. Flour surrounds the culinary miracle.

I made the raviolis last night using fresh pasta with the help of my date. I didn't know where my pasta crank went so we set up a system where I flattened out the ravioli rounds while she spooned them with the filling and sealed them with an egg wash. Neatness counts so we cut them with the rim of a Red Hook tasting glass (totally MacGyver'd that one). Boiled in salt water, lightly fried in browned butter and sage, and finished with fresh grated parmesean cheese and parsley. The picture tells it all.

The food came out exactly as I imagined it. Each component played its part. Some subtle, some distinct, but all working together. Along with steamed broccoli and a delicious salad kit, we enjoyed the rest of our date.

So did I impress? I'm hopeful, but I do know we both had a good time making and eating the food.