Pumpkin and amaretti ravioli

Recently a friend of mine was moving, leaving Edinburgh to go back to her country. Movings are always complex situations to deal with: you gain something new, you have to release the grip on something related to the past. Moreover, you actually proceed at a different speed: like in the Einstein's brothers anecdote. If you live a town (or a flat) the people you were used to see will gather and relate to each other according to a different alchemy. The environment may keep its osmosis, of course, but the gradient of the solution is altered by your absence and one may feel casted away from the game.

Gulf of Alaska, fresh water and salt water do no mix:

http://velrats.blogspot.co.uk/2011/12/two-types-of-oceans-that-do-not-mix-up.html

When this friend of mine had to leave her flat, I offered her a spare room I had, especially because in Edinburgh, during the Fringe festival, finding a room is like combing a bold man, and even if you succeed it turns out bloody expensive. This eight days of cohabitation turned out fabulous both for the friendship bonds that we have been able to fasten and for the productive atmosphere we experimented in the kitchen. She is extremely competent at baking, whereas I am feeling more confident on other cooking fields. The penultimate evening, she was exhausted of packing, so I offered myself to provide the supper and she instantly became in charge of the wine provisions.

This wine
Blanco Airén Valdepeñas by Felix Solis
turned out particularly good,

especially with it fruity aftertaste,

which matched particularly well

with the almonds dressing

http://felixsolisavantis.com/en/vinos/ficha.php?c1=145&c2=183&c3=212&pr=29

If you wish to learn more on the grapes variety:

http://www.wine-searcher.com/grape-688-airen

This is what came out in a sort of outburst of improvisation and creativity, especially relating on what the fridge was willing to suggest us:

1 pack of Pumpkins and amaretti ravioli

(3£ for two 250 gr packs, not bad at all):

the pastry has a good and defined texture, 

which responds well to the cooking process.

One has to be careful not to brake any ravioli,

otherwise the filling overflows and you spoil

the final outcome of the recipe.

Warm up 10 cut almonds in a little oil,

with some rosemary leaves,

let it go for 5 minutes at the maximum:

while mixing desperately gently up the ravioli

whit the condiment, 

sprinkle with some black pepper.

Garnishments: 

serve ravioli together with some stewed spinaches

(with a clove of garlic, a drop of white wine, a drop of water

a pinch of Maldon salt, some chili [not too much] ,

extra-virgin olive oil, as usual, I daresay)

& 

two chestnut mushrooms, stuffed with

grated cheddar, extra-virgin olive oil, parsley and breadcrumbs

(as the Portobello mushrooms I posted last week)

Dress with some Pecorino rrrromano

(as they would say in Rome,

where the sound < r > is close to the Scottish r), 

according to your taste:

this cheese is a sheep cheese, à pâte dure,

as French gourmet would say,

hugely different from the pecorino from Sardinia,

and it possesses a clear piquant delicious salty

taste.

How bravely indulgent my friend was with Pecorino romano

onto her portion: well done! 

Also the chromatic correspondences have been almost respected:

This dish, at least for me that I was figuring it out, had a double meaning: welcoming and remembering. The rosemary came for another dear friend of mine, Pietro, who had to leave the town to move back to the concrete smoked-ish torrid Milan: I kept the legacy of his rosemary and I am using it as a relic, solely when special people occur to my table. On the other hand, I wished my female friend felt not just hosted, but received as a true flatmate. Food provided a nice entertainment, a super-valid flywheel effect for a chain of opinions on several topics, an shared moment of friendly intimacy, and a legal precedent to duplicate in the future this event, perhaps also with Pietro! Mission accomplished.