Cocoa and Lavender: It's What's Inside That Counts

It seems every time I make fresh pasta, I use a different recipe. With different proportions. A different procedure. Occasionally there’s a bright color, such as beet or spinach. Sometimes different flours.

But, when making ravioli, the type of pasta doesn't mean as much to me as the stuff that's on the inside. The filling makes the ravioli.

You can look at that statement three ways, really, and they are all important: quality, balance, and quantity

The first way is something you have seen here on Cocoa & Lavender quite often: the quality of your ingredients matter. They define the end product.

If you buy artisanal cheese, your ravioli will be a work of art. If you use fresh herbs, you will be able to taste the garden in which they were grown.

Conversely, if you use processed, low fat cheese and old, dried herbs, you can only imagine what I’d say you’ll produce. (This is a G-rated blog, after all...)

The second way – balance – is also key. If your filling is too wet, you run the risk of making the pasta soggy. If it is too dry, you can end up with mealy pillows of sawdust.

There is the flavor balance. For example, too much of an herb can be bitter. The saying is true: less is more.

Another aspect of balance lies in the pairing flavors. Respect the integrity of your ingredients. If your filling is comprised of delicate flavors - fresh cheeses, for example - be gentle with herbs and spices. If robust - perhaps duck confit or wild mushrooms - you can be a little more aggressive with the add ins.

The third way to consider "the filling makes the ravioli" pertains to the quantity of filling you use. I have seen recipes that call for a heaping tablespoon of filling, which is fine if your ravioli are the size of a twifler. (A twifler is a small plate: think hors d'œuvre or salad or desert plate. That is a total Markipedia reference.)

For a 2 1/2-inch to 3-inch raviolo, you need only a rounded teaspoon of filling. I know you want more in there, but you will only regret it when all your hard work breaks into smithereens when it hits the boiling water. Again, less is more. In fact, that applies to boiling too; don’t. Cook at a rapid simmer not a full boil!

Today's recipe follows all my rules. I used locally-made goat ricotta from Fiore diCapra (one of our local goat cheese artisans), a little fresh marjoram from our garden, and the zest of an organic lemon. I used Parmigiano Reggiano that wasn't local, but I used the best I could buy. And when I stuffed them, I used a rounded teaspoon of filling, and not a single one broke.

And, you know what? The ravioli were perfect. If I do say so myself.

1 egg, lightly beaten

1 teaspoon olive oil

1 cup fresh goat ricotta

1 tablespoon chopped fresh marjoram, plus extra

finely grated zest of a lemon

a couple of grates of fresh nutmeg

salt & freshly ground black pepper

3 tablespoons butter, melted and kept warm

Place flour on a board and make a well. Add egg, oil, and salt; using a fork, whisk the egg and incorporate flour until it begins to come together. Continue mixing and kneading by hand until you have a smooth and satiny dough. Let rest for 20 minutes under a damp cloth.

Mix the cheese, marjoram, zest, and nutmeg together and season with salt and pepper. Roll dough to the next-to-thinnest setting (No. 6 on an Atlas machine). Cut out 2 1/2-inch circles - you will need 28. Place a slightly rounded teaspoon of the cheese mixture on half the pasta pieces. Moisten the edges with water using a brush or the tip of your finger, top with the other pieces of pasta and seal as tightly as possible all the way around with dry fingers, pressing out any air bubbles. Let the filled ravioli sit for 10 minutes under a damp towel Bring a large pot of salted water to a rapid simmer (not a full boil). Gently slide the ravioli into the simmering water one at a time. Cook for 2 minutes and, using a slotted spoon, drain and place on the serving platter. Drizzle with the melted butter and stir gently to coat. Sprinkle lightly with additional chopped fresh marjoram leaves.