Ravioli blog

This is a true story, told by a coworker who wouldn't - and couldn't - lie if her life depended on it.

Or if her husband's family's pasta depended on it...

As many of you know, we had a nasty snowstorm here a month ago. As in, two feet of snow and ice.

My coworker, who we'll call C, has what she describes as a "stubborn Italian husband," whom we'll call M.

M is one of 12 kids - yes, enough to have a strike, or a jury (thank you for pointing that out, Mr. RK) - and they take their food very seriously, according to C.

So every year, one of their family Christmas traditions is to make ravioli.

This is no simple procedure; like every other dish, they make it as a famiglia (Italian for family. Mr. RK is reading over my shoulder and said, "Hey! Family is a little misspelled.")

One person makes the filling.
One person makes the dough.
You get the picture.

So two days before Christmas, P, M's brother who made the ravioli filling, says, "It's horrible weather outside. I am not going to partake in this year's ravioli making until the snow melts."

M says, "No problem, P. I'll come pick up the ravioli filling.'

P replies, "No! I'm not taking it to you, and you can't come get it, either."

What happened next...well, start humming "Smooth Criminal" to yourself before you read it.

M tells C that P's apartment has an extra hallway door that he leaves open. M says, "I'm going over there, and I'm going to sneak in and take the filling."

Never mind that M is 15 miles from P, there are two feet of ice and snow, an P keeps A BASEBALL BAT on hand in case of intruders.

It takes M two hours to get there. He leaves at midnight. P's extra door is locked.

M debates crawling in through the window, but decides against it.

(I am not making this up. At this point in the story, when it was told to us at work, I had to put down my lunch so I would not choke, because I was laughing so hard.)

So a few days later, the family gets together. M confesses to P.

One of their sisters gets in M's face.

"You had no right to try to steal that ravioli filling! It was HIS! Not YOURS!"

M says, "I really don't think this involves you."

M's sister says, "OH YES IT DOES!" And the whole family gets involved. The argument only ended when M hit a pyrex dish of parmesan cheese with a spoon a little too hard and it exploded into tiny pieces.

That became known as "the ravioli incident."

There are other incidents as well, all named after food...C assures me that "they're all very serious about their food."

PS Everyone I shared this story with practically doubled over with laughter...except my friend K, who dated a guy from a large Italian family when she was in high school.

"Yeah, I can totally see that," she said. "They're very serious about their food!"