What does this somewhat revolting photograph have to do with a pasta maker, you ask?
This, my friends, is pasta dough. Which is one of the easiest things in the world to make. Try it sometime. You’ll like it. That brilliant yellow color is from the egg, a farm-fresh specimen form Rancho Navarro. Which reminds me, where does the term “farm-fresh” come from? I mean in theory all things are fresh from a farm at some point in their lives.
But I digress.
This, my friends, is a pasta machine, my latest acquisition. It is, as you can see, bright, shiny, and immensely fun to use. Fairly easy, too, although when the strands of dough get long, it’s a little hard to handle things one handed.
It came with one attachment, for making linguine and capellini. I realize that this picture looks incredibly cluttered, but that’s kind of what happens when you have a small house. There’s not a lot of white space. Except for in the bedroom. And I don’t make pasta in the bedroom, for reasons which I hope are obvious.
Here’s some pasta all rolled and cut. If you’ve never used a pasta machine before, it’s hard to explain how awesome it is. It fills me with a childish sense of glee to slowly crank the pasta through, dialing the settings down one by one to the desired thickness.
My father also has a pasta machine. His has a ravioli attachment, although it doesn’t work very well, as we discovered the one time we tried to make ravioli with it. I suspect that ravioli may require thicker dough. F and I may be experimenting with manufacture of ravioli in the future, but I don’t think we will be using a ravioli attachment, not least because borrowing kitchen equipment from my father is like trying to rope an invisible greased pig. I’m thinking half moon ravioli. Simple. And delicious.
Here’s what the pasta turned into, by the way. I do love me some pasta.