I usually cook my own food, but my hand is broken and a lovely woman stopped by my house to drop off samples of frozen ravioli she makes and sells. They’re made according to her great-grandmother’s recipe from Lucca. They have meat inside. Lots of tasty, well-seasoned meat. My mother, my son, and I all loved them. They’ll eat anything, but I’m a professional and I’m telling you, these were not your standard frozen ravioli. Granted, she came by my house and gave us food just when dinner was starting to look a lot like last night’s scrounging affair. These ravioli had the stage all set for them. But, unlike many performers before them, they lived up to the task.
She also dropped off some sauce, but we ate them plain, with butter and parmesan. Except Ernie. No butter for him. He knows dry pasta with bits of parm falling off it is the way to go.
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