Pasta Machine

Recently, friends of mine tried making ravioli from scratch - meaning pasta dough, a countertop, filling, a rolling pin, and some sort of cutter. They made a valiant effort, but were not, let's say, satisfied with the results. Reading of their experience on social media, I offered my opinion that this is the kind of thing that Italian nonnas learn at their bisnonnas' knees, and only really get the hang of about the time that they start figuring out that boys have different - let's just say goals, strategies, and objectives - than girls do. So, the rest of us really need to have a leg up on this kind of thing.

I hope I didn't offend, but I did promise to share with them my fresh pasta kit. Here it is. This is the basic pasta machine:

The roller is the important part. This is what Nonna learned when she was old enough to see over the edge of the counter: you need to roll your pasta into very thin and very even sheets. If you can do that with a rolling pin, you're there. If not, this thing is your savior. 

The dies came with the machine (Past-A-Fast). After getting your sheets thin enough, you let them rest a bit and then cut them into fettuccine or some sort of square long pasta that I don't know the name of, and either nest them or hang them to dry a bit.

This is another couple of sets of dies that fit on the same machine. The one on the left has one setting for the same sort of square pasta that came with the machine, and the other is for linguine. The one on the right is for spaghetti (a bit thinner than I personally care for, but whatever). The other tools are a roller thing to cut pasta sheets to a specific width for ravioli, a brush for cleaning flour out of the machine, and an allen wrench for some purpose that escapes me at the moment. Hey, if you need an allen wrench, just get one out of the garage, no?

I should point out that the die attachments fit into the same position on the machine, so whoever designed this thing got that right.

These are several attachments or accessories for ravioli. The two on the left (the die and the wooden roller thing) are intended to feed pasta sheets into the machine and deliver ravioli out of the bottom. The big flat thing and its companion white plastic form is for pressing pasta sheets, filling ravioli, and pressing again for cutting.

Here's a closeup of the ravioli roller.

I should point out that, despite owning these tools, I have never successfully made ravioli with them. I mean, it should work, but do I have the patience? No. Maybe now that I have finally retired, I can try again, but meanwhile these sit in my kitchen waiting to be used.

This is an aftermarket electric motor that will turn the pasta machine crank for you. Do you want this? Do you have three hands? Do you have a willing partner to turn the crank while managing your pasta sheets and cutting those sheets into linguine or whatever? If the answer to those last two questions is "no," you do want this. Buy it. 

Hope This Helps (tm).

Chicken Wings - the only way to make them

Anyone who's read my brilliant treatment of the margarita cocktail knows that I am rather opinionated on certain things, culinarily speaking. Other examples: anyone disparaging another for ordering anchovies, or pineapple-and-ham, on pizza should be horsewhipped and shunned. Anyone ordering a quality steak grilled past medium - well, I do go on. But chicken wings are kind of the same thing.

First, some ground rules:

• Bone-in. "Boneless wings" are just chicken nuggets with an agent.
• Blue cheese dressing. Ranch is for the timid.
• Standard Buffalo (NY) Anchor Bar tossing sauce. This is one cup of Frank's Red Hot Sauce melted with an 8oz stick of unsalted butter. I'm told that Crystal Hot Sauce works well also, but I wouldn't know anything about that. Any other kind of sauce is for something other than real chicken wings.
• Deep fried at 350°F. If you want to air-fry or grill them, fine, but don't complain at me when they don't turn out.
• Buy good wings. Ignore the big cheap bags of frozen wing sections; these always include broken bones and - parts - that may have come from mutant chickens. Yes, you'll get broken bones in the fresh supermarket trays now and then, but nothing really weird. This means that you'll have to section them yourself, but so what - it's easy.
• Leave the tip on the paddle/flat section. Or not, what do I care. But it's a convenient handle, and you can chew on it a bit after gnawing off the meat. Sure, you can save them for stock that you'll never make, so do whatever you like.
• Julienned carrots and celery on the side. Or if you don't care for one or the other, leave it off, what do I care.

So, the process.

Chicken wings cry out for sous-vide. After sectioning your wings, toss them with a little salt, bag them, and drop them in the sous-vide tank for an hour at 165°F. Take the bag out and chill it in an ice bath. Once cold, remove them from the bag, lay them out on a rack on a sheet pan, and put them in the fridge to air dry for eight hours or overnight. Oh, but first rinse off any jellied fat that's accumulated.

When ready to enjoy, prep your vegetables and dressing, and deep fry in peanut oil (or some other neutral high-smoke-point oil) at 350°F for four or five minutes. Remember, they're already cooked through; you just want to brown them.

Remove them from the oil and let them rest on a rack for a minute or so to harden up. Then toss in your Buffalo sauce for a bit, let them sit for a couple of minutes, plate and serve.

You won't need a napkin. You need a damp kitchen towel and a bone plate. Enjoy.