Noni's Ravioli

When Rick and I started dating, he had a wild boar leg that he had hunted, cured it for prosciutto, and stored it in his cupboard to shave off bit by bit for snacking. He had a fresh rotisserie chicken ready to eat after a night of drinking. His fridge had the predictable contents of lettuce and veggies to make a salad, rib eye steak, and a whole roaster chicken, some A1 sauce, ketchup, and a few Coors Lights. Basic. Simple. When I came into the picture, things got a lot more complicated in the kitchen. The fridge has more condiments and leftovers than is necessary. Every cupboard is filled with gidgets and gadgets. But one thing that has remained the same is the yearly tradition of making Noni's Ravioli from scratch. The process has changed since the first time I was allowed to participate in making the coveted secret recipe. The first time, I was only allowed to help assemble the ravioli after the filling had been made. The second year, I was able to help procure the ingredients, but not allowed to look at the recipe. The third year, I was able to see the recipe and help make the filling. The fourth year, I was able to make the filling, while he made the dough. And since then we've found our place in the tradition of ravioli making. I make the filling, Rick makes the dough and rolls the dough. Rick fills the dough, and I cut the squares and pack them into boxes. It takes most of the day, and it's actually hard work. Harder work when you factor in babies and naptime, playtime and snacks. The paper the recipe is written on has yellowed and frayed. The writing is starting to fade. I'll eventually have to rewrite it, before it's lost forever. This year, Sophia showed some interest in the process. It was one of those moments where I realized that this is a tradition I hope she and Ava carries on. I know her Noni would be proud of that, and I'd like to believe her great-Nonis would be pretty proud too.