… and be sure that I’ll run as fast as I can these days to the biggest hidden somewhere in our house gun (if I have to I know where they are), and I’ll shoot you dead. I’ll choose the biggest one so to be sure that I’ll kill you for sure! DO NOT SAY: homemade ravioli around me… at least for the next few months.
Yesterday I decided to use my pasta maker. It’d been standing on my kitchen’s counter since Christmas and it was haunting me every time I looked at it… Finally I said: ok, that’s enough, time to face my ghosts.
Instead of making pasta I’d decided to make a ravioli. Why not I thought. What’s the difference between pasta and ravioli… I was soon to find out
Everything had started so innocently.
2 1/2 cups of all purpose flour
pinch of salt
1 tablespoon of buttre
1/2 cup of milk
I used my pseudo kitchen aid to mix the dough. It wasn’t working as good as I thought it would so I started to knead it with the power of my own hands 🙂
Not a big deal since I always do it with a homemade pizza dough. It’s even fun imagining that I’m working out that way 😉 After around 10 minutes of kneading the dough was ready for the pasta maker. It took me a while to figure out how that damn thing works, and why my dough is coming out with holes, looking more like a swiss cheese (my husband’s idea how to desribe it 🙂 )
I didn’t have enough space in the kitchen to spread the rolled dough and to start filling it after being done with rolling. I had to roll part of the dough spread it, fill it, seal it, cut it and put it aside. ufff… and all over again.
My kitchen was a mess! I got tired just thinking about cleaning it after all. In the middle of making this yummy mess (I wasn’t sure if after all it’ll be yummy or not) I wanted to sit down and cry. WHY oh WHY oh WHY I had that idea of making ravioli… I was simply pissed!
Despite this little break down I put myself back together, threw away the rest of the dough ( I had already had done 13 HUGE raviolis), cleaned the kitchen, and relaxed a little waiting for the water to start boiling
Time for the best part – waiting, after all that work put in those raviolis, to see how many of them will come apart…
At the end I was tooooooo tired to take any decent picture of ready to eat homemade ravioli. I placed my butt on the chair and didn’t want to move or do anything else. It was hard to move my plate around.
I finished my dinner, packed the past maker in the box and hide it deep and high in the closet for it to be forgotten. I do not want to see it again.
Don’t be shy and let me know what’s hiding in your head!