A TALE OF TWO RAVIOLI
Once upon a time………
There was a married couple who loved food. I mean, they loved it! They loved to cook it, they loved to eat it, they loved to kiss it and hold it and squeeze it and hug it and………(oh wait, wrong story. Sorry, George.) Anyway, they loved food. But they didn’t always have the same ideas about how to prepare it. Well, this caused quite a conundrum. But it shouldn’t have. Because!……there are so many different ways to prepare so many tasty meals!
Take pasta for example. Or any example. Forever. (Ugh, I have issues.) Okay, so pasta. I am absolutely enamored with the fact that this heavenly, carby, coma-inducing dream on a plate can pair with just about anything. Whether it be the sauce, the filling, the cheese, the protein, the man, (what? it’s true)……it’s my favorite comfort food. Let’s be real, it’s my favorite any food.
So back to this married couple. One of them decided that they wanted to take this mushroom/cheese ravioli that they shared and pair it with a light marsala, thyme and shallot sauce. (Mmm…that garlic, creamy goodness.) It looked like this:
(Yes, I over-sauced. But I would have bathed in this sauce so applaud my restraint.)
And the other decided to take a more tomato-head approach and also hit it with some shallots and garlic, but then added a secret dash of spicy balsamic that they found at some street fair in San Francisco called “Sweet Heat”. (Also good for pork glazes.) It looked like this:
(I know. Pretty, right? Has better sauce-to-ravioli ratio.)
As a result, they had come to an impasse. What were they to do?! Here they had two stunningly delicious dishes and nothing to bridge them together. It was Montagues and Capulets all over again! Oh the nightmare! They were on the cusp of an all-out-war! But then a pig walks in and saves the day, and……
(I know, I know. But trust me, it’s part of the story.)
Actually, it was more of a small hog. Eberle, to be exact. Anyway, Eberle syrah found a way to bring peace to the two parties, for history has shown that alcohol can be a great tool for this. (Because 1: you can come together to shoot the breeze over a spirited drink of choice or 2: be on the verge of killing each other, alcohol steps in, and you become increasingly too numb to care. And then pass out.)
Well fortunately, it was the former. And because of the yummy quality of taste that Eberle brought to the pallet, they found their common ground. For Eberle was a friend to all and played well with others.
So the moral of this story is: I love pasta. And small pigs.
La Fine! (Italian: “The End”)
-FTF
