Time to get the pasta maker out of the cupboard, blow off the cobwebs, and get down from the shelf the packet of 00 flour which has been sitting there every bit as long as the machine itself - 15 year old flour - is that a record?
So allowing myself one and a half hours, I closed the kitchen door on the world, put on some soothing music and set to. I measured, mixed, kneaded, sweated, cursed, made a mess, chilled, blended, stirred, rolled, stuffed, cut, admired, cooked......
....and ended up with a perfectly acceptable plate of crab-stuffed ravioli. How chuffed was I? The family even ate it, without the usual "why didn't you let Dad cook it?" or "Why didn't we get a take-away?".
Just for the record it was 8.00pm at night - 3 hours after I started the culinary masterpiece - but the best things are worth waiting for.
Feeling like Delia and Gordon's love-child right now. What next? Souffle?
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