SILVERBEET & RICOTTA RAVIOLI W/ BROWNED BUTTER & CRISPY SAGE
Well, the silverbeet doesn’t appear to be going anywhere any time soon. In fact, in addition to popping up in some truly random locations, some have grown so tall that it looks like we’re trying to cultivate some kind of weird silverbeet forest in the vegetable garden. We’ve given away literal garbage bagfuls of it and somehow…it’s all still there. It’s like the groundhog day of vegetables. So, The Roommate helpfully suggested that we (i.e. I) make a “sh*tload of ravioli” - I believe those were his exact words. Not a bad idea, until I realized I would need to (want to) make the pasta dough as well. Doughs and pastries, in general, are not my friends. It is definitely not my strong suit and I’ve had far more failures than successes when attempting to make either one.
The first time I made ravioli I tried to cheat by using wonton wrappers, framing it as a resourceful experiment to disguise my laziness (this is Lazy Lady Farmer after all, not the Super Energetic Hyperactive Farmer). Unsurprisingly, that did not go well. I won’t detail the mess it created, but we at least had confirmation that the ravioli filling was spot on. The second time, I made proper pasta dough with 00 Italian flour and our pasta roller, but the skins were still too sticky and fragile - bear in mind you need to roll out ravioli dough a bit thinner than regular pasta dough since you’re sticking two pieces together. Third time must be a charm because they turned out beautifully; using semolina flour made the dough a little heartier and they dried out with minimal stickiness.
By the way, only make fresh ravioli (dough + filling) if you have about 3 hours to spare (or 6, if you also have a silverbeet forest to get through and do a double batch like I did). This is one of the most time consuming things I’ve ever made, and I will never ever again question the price of handmade pasta in a restaurant.
There is, however, an incredibly therapeutic quality to making pasta from scratch. It’s methodical and repetitive, making it a rather perfect activity to zone out to when you feel like putting everything else in life on hold for a few hours. My personal setup is now down to a science: get all the gear in place, pour a glass of robust red wine, put on PJs, Netflix on in the background - usually either some type of true crime show or my favourite cartoon of all time, Bob’s Burgers (I am NOT ashamed to admit this) - basically something I don’t need to pay too much attention to. And then the next few hours usually pass by in a hazy wine-drenched ricotta-spinach-pasta fog, as a silent one-woman assembly line. Even The Roommate wisely knows not to disturb me during the process. Or maybe he did and I just didn’t notice him in my concentration (probably more accurate). In any case, by the time I look up it’s usually dark outside and I’m likely overdue to feed at least one of the varieties of animals on the farm. So if you have, say, a needy human baby, it might be best to set some kind of alarm lest you get a little too immersed in the activity. Though I’m sure your baby would let you know (loudly) when they’re displeased.
I cannot tell you how thrilled I was when I rolled out that first sheet of semolina pasta dough. Watching it come through the rollers as an even, perfectly textured sheet made me all tingly with a sense of accomplishment. Need I remind you that I live with an Italian whose mother used to make EVERYTHING from scratch? I do not need that kind of pressure in my life. I was basically ready to run a victory lap around the house, holding the sheet of pasta above my head like a flag.
Despite having made ravioli three times already, there was still no shortage of silverbeet so, as mentioned earlier, I made a double batch this time. Miraculously I had a spare 8 hours (it was raining and I had cooked more than enough food in the days previous to feed a small village) - I haven’t sat anywhere in one spot for that long since February, and that was on a plane. Somehow prolonged sitting is now apparently deemed the most abhorrent and protest-worthy activity by my body. Would highly recommend getting up every 30 minutes to stretch, which sounds ridiculous given that 90 year old Italian grannies can do this every day without complaint, but my 30-something Asian self sadly cannot keep up with them.
Apparently the ravioli cutter couldn’t keep up either:
RIP, ravioli cutter.
In fairness, it had been brutally overworked in the last month after well…never having been used in 7 years. But after 8 hours and the demise of the ravioli cutter, the resulting 100+ pieces of ravioli were well worth the effort. Little pillows of cheesy heaven, not sticking to one another at all, in relative uniformity (some may have turned out slightly imperfect during my 3rd glass of wine).
I love ravioli with pretty much any type of sauce, but given that I had just put in a standard 8-hour work day towards these things, I wasn’t about to spend more time cooking down a sauce for it, I’m not crazy. So the solution was pretty obvious.
Browned-butter and sage is one of my absolute favourite sauces for pasta. Not too long ago I had said that I didn’t want to eat a pound of butter a week, but that was apparently just a moment of temporary madness, because not only did I have that for dinner last night, but for lunch again today. I do not regret it yet. The sage from our herb garden is growing more quickly than ever before and I always use that as an excuse to eat more of this sauce, but the best thing about it (besides all the butter) is that it literally takes about 7 minutes to make. And “make” is a strong word, it’s really just throwing some sage into hot butter and waiting a bit. If you can’t make that…no judgement (but maybe just a little bit).
By the way, The Roommate’s Italian mother came over the next day and ate some with us for lunch, and LOVED it. So much so that she “accidentally” overate despite not being hungry. #winning
Ingredients (for 4 servings):
3 eggs
2 cups semolina flour
1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1kg silverbeet, de-stemmed, leaves roughly torn and washed (or 1 packet thawed frozen spinach)
About 400g smooth ricotta cheese
1 cup freshly grated parmesan/grana padano cheese
1/2 tsp garlic powder (optional)
2 sticks or 1/2 cup butter
Generous handful or two of sage leaves
Salt & pepper to taste
Method:
1. In a stand mixer bowl, add in the flour, egg, olive oil and a small pinch of salt. Beat using the dough hook attachment on low speed for several minutes until the dough comes together. If it’s a bit dry or crumbly and not combining, add in a bit of water, 1/2 tsp at a time. Beat another 5 minutes or so until the dough is smooth and elastic. Remove the dough, wrap tightly in cling wrap and let rest for about 30 minutes.
2. Meanwhile, bring a large pot of water to boil. Salt generously and add the silverbeet in large bunches. Cook until bright green and wilted, about 4 minutes. Drain and rinse in cold water until cool enough to handle. Squeeze out as much of the water as you can from the silverbeet, then chop into a very fine mince (do this as well with the thawed frozen spinach). I used a Mezzaluna knife to speed things up a bit.
3. In a large bowl, mix the cheeses and chopped silverbeet with a pinch of salt until well combined. In a separate small bowl, beat one egg and set aside for later.
4. Divide the pasta dough into quarters. Keep the pieces you’re not working with tightly wrapped in the cling wrap. Take your first piece of dough and run it through the pasta machine on its thickest setting (which would be 0). Fold it in thirds (like a letter) and run it through again. Repeat once more. Then, run it through the machine again (feeding the narrow side through it), decreasing the thickness setting each time. In this instance I rolled it through to setting 7. Cut the pasta sheet in half.
5. Lightly dust a clean work surface with flour and lay one pasta sheet over it. Or, if you’re using a ravioli mould, drape one sheet of pasta over it. Spoon about 1 large teaspoon of the spinach and ricotta filling into each mould, or about 2-3cm apart on the pasta. Lightly brush some egg wash around the edge of each piece then drape the second sheet of pasta on top.
6. Using your fingers, gently seal each piece of ravioli, making sure to pinch out any air pockets. Then use the ravioli cutter to cut out each piece. For best results, dust both sides of the ravioli with a bit of flour, then leave to dry for about an hour on a wooden cutting board or other breathable surface. This will prevent the dough from becoming sticky.
7. Repeat above steps with the remaining 3 pieces of pasta dough and filling.
8. Bring a large pot of water to boil, then salt generously. Add the ravioli and cook until they float, then cook 1-2 minutes more. Drain, drizzle with a little olive oil to prevent sticking, then set aside.
9. While the ravioli is cooking, melt about 2 sticks of butter on medium heat in a large skillet. Once it starts to foam and sizzle a little, throw in the sage leaves and let them sit in the butter, stirring only occasionally, until they start to crisp up. Once crispy, toss in the ravioli and gently mix together until the pasta is well coated in butter and takes on a little butter. Add some salt and pepper to taste, then serve immediately with some freshly grated parmesan.