Today is a difficult one for me. Letting go of the greatest political leader I've known in my life and coming to terms (Is that what I'm doing?) with the newly elected and sworn in leaders – well, it is painful and scary.
As I told a friend this morning, I am a words person. I use too many all the time because I like them, they help me understand how I feel, how I think... And today I am truly without them. They're all out of reach, hiding in corners, clutching at each other, unwilling to be the ones chosen and associated with these feelings I have, the ones labeling today what it is, calling out a reality that feels so unreal.
As we face any kind of deterioration and destruction, I find it helpful to make things. Make art. Make friends. Make a movement. Make food. In the face of loss, we must create.
These lil guys have become a ritual for me. The first time I made ravioli was about six years ago, after my wife and I moved into our condo in Brooklyn. It is an involved, private process – not as difficult as it seems, though I still have a lot of room for improvement. I am making something delicate but hardy, messy but refined, simple yet complex. They require space, and the ability to truly possess that space for at least a period of time.
Like all things difficult, the first try doesn't always work. My first dough went in the trash. My second, though, went better and I moved forward. They're not perfect, but I made them. We can create.
These ones have a sage, mushroom, onion and ricotta filling. I tossed them with a kale, mushroom, garlic sauce. They are good. They will get better.
