Experimental Ravioli at Home

For dinner, I had some butternut squash ravioli, with a side of (surprise!) butternut squash, and a saison beer to drink.

Mid-afternoon, I decided today was a crazy cooking adventure kind of day. And then I remembered seeing this recipe, except I had a butternut squash to get rid of, not a pumpkin. I've made homemade pasta before, but never ravioli, despite having a mysterious, bulky contraption lying around the house for YEARS that appears to be a ravioli mold. So, I went for it.

I made homemade pasta with semolina flour, three eggs, and a little warm water. It's probably my inability to find 00 flour (I was actually sort of offended that the Whole Foods here doesn't sell bulk semolina flour, instead forcing me to buy an overpriced bag of it courtesy of Bob's Red Mill, but that's another story), but my pasta is always pretty dry and finicky. Despite this, I was able to get it stretched through my pasta machine, then press it into the weird ravioli mold, filled, dried out a bit, and into the water. They turned out deliciously, although the recipe's 3-4 minute cooking time is wildly optimistic. Lucky I like my pasta very, very chewy.

Jon was less thrilled. He dislikes squash, and is miserable every fall when I torture him with the seasonal bounty of new, undiscovered squash varieties. He was especially not thrilled when I decided to serve the remaining squash filling as a side dish. Said filling consisted of roasted, mashed squash, mixed with a little ricotta, brown butter, shallots, nutmeg, and bere bere powder (because one of my cardinal cooking rules is that anything is improved by adding more bere bere); I rationalized that nothing in it made it inappropriate as a side. No slimy raw eggs, for example.

The beer was ok, but not amazing. I am still mourning the loss of New Belgium's Saison (bastards), so I was excited to see that Schlafly, the local large-ish brewery, has released a seasonal saison. It's nicely balanced and appropriately fall-ish, but a little syrupy. More bitter, less molasses please.

I wish post #100 involved a more interesting meal.

For dinner, I had roasted butternut squash and couscous, with a St. Arnold's Lawnmower Ale.

Yes, I still have meat fatigue. And I was too lazy to go to the grocery store. As strangely minimalistic as it was, it wasn't bad. I first envisioned adding something to the couscous, maybe some oil-cured olives and citrus chunks, or some black beans and roasted garlic. But no, laziness won again.

I don't own a couscousiere, for obvious reasons, but I'm open to trying to make my own one day (or maybe I just wanted to use the word 'couscousiere'). Today, however, I was using whole-wheat, quick-cook couscous, which is very easy- boil water, dump in couscous. Let sit. Fluff, add goodies. I added some butter and salt, and a very little bit of Kraft Parm. It was nice, a little dry.

The squash was more labor intensive. I love squash, but I almost slice off an arm every time I attempt to tame it in its raw state, and it's impossible to figure out how long it should *really* be cooked, and at what temperature. My new solution is to plop the damn thing in the oven whole, turn the oven on high, and forget about it for at least an hour. It worked beautifully, though the squash was a little on the watery side. You're supposed to choose the most dense squash for better flavor, but I usually end up with the water-retaining ones instead. I managed the squash crisis by using a paper towel to dry them out a bit, then slathered them with butter. Very tasty.

The Lawnmower Ale is from St. Arnold's, Houston's only craft brewery of any importance (ARE there any others? Quick Google says no, but that's too sad for me to believe). It's a grassy, malty, relatively light beer that's perfect for spring and summer.

You can put ANYTHING on a waffle.

In the interest of the impending election, and general weirdness, here is a photo of the presidential candidates (and 'Ol Hillary) sculpted in hummus.


Today for lunch, I had an organic flaxseed waffle, toasted and slathered in lemon hummus. I was rushed, trying to prepare a butternut squash dish for my grandmother's birthday dinner. Lunch was an afterthought, prompted mostly by the annoying man blocking my path to the milk at the grocery store. While trying to squeeze by him, I happened to look over and notice about twelve different varieties of hummus for sale. Lemon hummus sounded interesting. I got home, and discovered I'd forgotten to buy anything to dip in it- no bread, no pita, no tortillas. The only breadlike substance in the house was flaxseed waffles.

It was interesting. Not bad, a blend between sweet and savory. The lemon flavors bridged the gap between the salty hummus and the slightly sweet waffle very well. Something about it was a little off-putting, but I think it was more the concept than the actual flavors or texture.

The most exciting part of the evening was my grandmother's mention of her Meyer lemon tree in the backyard. Her backyard is amazing- I am already lusting after her persimmon crop in a few weeks. The lemons are getting ripe, so I took a few to play with. Unless I find something better to do, I'm going to candy them. This recipe looks utterly amazing, but I'm not terribly confident in my sea urchin butchering skills.