It is late fall in the Catskills and colors abound. It is as if the hidden beauty of all of nature comes through in a wonderful display for us to imbibe with perhaps a slight bit more pondering, introspect and appreciation. Our wine tastes shift from crispy pinots to buttery chards, flavors within foods deepen, lend them selves to roasting, wood fire, and long simmers on stoves.
This recipe was developed from a chance dinner I happened to have with my wonderful family around our wood stove, which in winter, becomes my piano, as the French call their stoves. There is plenty of room for the morning bacon as well as tommorow's soup, and a large 20 gallon pot with a faucet on the bottom that is the most efficient water heater we've ever had in the house. I like cooking this way because it reminds me of the way I learned to cook in the Boy Scouts. The meal begins with heating water. The hot water is your everything, how you warm up your hands to begin, how you clean things that are dirty as you find them, how you sanitize your surfaces initially. Your everything. So having it around all the time simply as a product of our heating our home is more than a godsend. Its satisfying. It is a warming sense of accomplishment and connection when the hot water you use is heated by wood you chopped and carried. It sort of starts the meal with gratitude before we even begin to cook.
The menu from the chance dinner was as follows: Hot dogs on skewers, mashed potato, and my lovely wife's addition: the apple sauce. The apple sauce made it for me.
The recipe for lobster ravioli developed out of a lobster that I grilled in the woodstove for my wife and I "after" our kiddie style meal. I enjoyed a massive helping (Three) of the hot dog combo plate. I just could'nt get enough of the cozy flavors. By the time it came time to eat the lobster, we got as far as eating the tail before passing out during a movie with our children.
That night, however, I crept outside with the remainder of the lobster, and lit a small fire in the smoker. The day before I had gathered a ton of wild apple dead wood branches. They smelled wonderful, even though they were long dead, they had tons of flavor in them. I smiled as I shut the lid, certain that thin slices of the long-smoked overnight claw would be ridiculous.
The next morning, they were. I served them sliced thin over fresh sprouts with lemon, next to a nice steamy pile of scrambled eggs, fresh from our own little hen house, and smiled again. Two smiles, now.
The third smile came when I knew that the rest of this wonderful treat from Maine that I was able to miraculously manifest in Arkville, NY thanks to Bruce at the Maine Black Bear fish market and restaurant would become the centerpiece of the ravioli that I would be creating with my students that afternoon. The class I am offering currently demonstrates how I, as a chef, am cooking at home, and in general, how I make ingredients work for me and my family.
So when I thought of the ravioli, I thought of applesauce, (because of the night before) and when I thought of the night before, I thought of hot dogs, because I always do, and when I thought of hot dogs, I thought of andouille, because I had some, and because I always do also, and then I said, potato? Why not? I remembered that I liked them because they were slow cooked and creamy on top of the stove, almost the consistency of the applesauce. It had a wonderful hot and cold feel, and the hot dog was the bridge. Now the ravioli was. And I thought of pumpkins in the field when I opened the smoker in the morning light and saw the bright prize within. The fourth smile came after I knew the chicken mushrooms I had harvested a month earlier and frozen would become another echo of this lovely bouquet of colors that has more that influenced my dishes. It has become the way I cook, and eat. With color.
The recipe:
1 whole lobster grilled and slow smoked (2 pounds is perfect)
1/2 pound andouille sausage
1 small pie pumpkin (2 pounds is perfect) or:
2 pounds assorted squashes
1 large sweet onion
1 pk won ton skins
3 eggs (farm fresh if you can)
1 doz wild apples
1 bunch wild thyme
2-3 leaves fresh sage
1 small wild chicken mushroom (please do not gather or consume these without a professional)
1 dozen assorted wild tree nuts, hickory, acorn
3 pounds small white potato
1 small nub goat cheese
1 pound butter
1/2 qt cream
olive oil
sea salt
fresh cracked black pepper
Bell's all natural seasoning powder
Dismantle the grilled and smoked lobster and try not to eat it all. Chop into loose little chunks, no smaller than 1/4 inch. Chop the onion as fine and quickly saute so that they caramelize, but still have bite. Add a little of the thyme, some olive oil to start, and some butter when you finish. Set aside. Start your mash potato by peeling and placing them in some cold slightly salted water. Bring to a boil and lower to a simmer when they get there. Cook them until they are soft-but still have just a tad of chunkyness in side of them still. Drain and reserve some of the cooking water with the potatoes. Add your cream and butter here as per your personal preference. I like mine loose and creamy here, not starchy like with a steak. Think warm applesauce, cause' thats next. Finish those with some s+p.
Peel the apples, seed them, and chop them loosely. Place in a pot with just a bit of water to start. Gently stir them and mash with a wooden spoon until you get it where you want it. Keep your heat hot, but reasonable. And keep stirring. Not like the potatoes. They like stirring, but not so much. A little every once in a while is good. Because you left them a little under-cooked, they'll soak up that cream and butter and cook up creamy, like risotto. Sneak up on them, and don't over whip them here. They'll get weird. Keep tasting, but don't get full. You'll want to have pre-heated your oven to about 400 and halved, quartered and roasted that pumpkin lightly brushed with olive oil, some sage and thyme, and some bells seasoning, which I sneak in alot. It was the secret ingredient in alot of my Grandma's cooking, including her stuffing. You can roast the pumpkin agressively, you actually want a little browning here. But not too soon. Don't rely on timers, keep looking in there, poke them. You are looking for a good roast yam consistency here.
After they are roasted and cooled, scoop them and mix your resulting mash into a nice puree you can work with in a ravioli. Spike the pumpkin mix with some s+p, olive oil, a smakerel of goat cheese and maybe a bit of butter and thyme. Whip and toss in two of the three eggs. Reserve.
Now that you have your lobster, pumpkin, and onion, you can assemble your "ravioli". I put that in quotes because it might be more like a potsticker, or a dumpling, or even a won ton, go figure! This is up to you. I like to cut the skins into quarters and use two pieces like a top and bottom. I brush the skin with a bit of butter, a pinch of thyme, add a bit of lobster, a bit of pumpkin on top, and then some onion, and then paint the next skin with butter, and paint the rim of the bottom with a little egg wash from the remaining egg, and then place the top over and seal it together. I really like the delicate pappardelle-like consistency of the ravioli at the edges in comparison with the meaty indulgent jewel at the center of these beauties. After assembling, you'll want to have some boiling water going with a basket, so you can move right along and give them a quick blanch. I like to follow up as soon as they are dry, by patting with a towel gently, in a quick saute here, and you want them to "jump" in the fat as they say, butter specifically, like one would fry a pierogi. It caramelizes the skin or pasta or whatever you have, and I love doing it to my "ravioli".
Now you can serve your lobster pumpkin "ravioli" over a mixed plate of warm potato mash and chilled fresh wild applesauce. I like to grill a link of andouille, a nod to the dog that inspired this dish, and slice it thin, scattering slices on both sides of the fence, with the apples and potatoes. That alone is pretty fall, but it becomes beautiful autumn when you serve it with your ravioli topped with some caramelized chicken mushroom, fried sage, and a little crumb scatter of chevre. And if you really want to add a little more texture, try shelling, blanching (several times, to remove bitterness), and roasting up some freshly harvested tree nuts, which are amazing, and sprinkling them on as well. This dish is my celebration of fall. And of life, in the sea and of land.
Surf and turf appetizer. Cheers!
Tenzo
