Christmas Rrraviolli


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Christmas RRRavioli

 It's Christmas Eve!  That means one thing, Mamma will be making my absolute fffa-avourite dish that we have on Christmas Day.  Mamma makes it because it reminds her and Papa of their home, can you guess which country they came from?  We call it Christmas RRRavioli!  I reckon it's the best ever! Here's how it starts..

Early in the morning, Mamma sautées chopped onion, parsley and mince. The other ingredient? A cinch.

It's PASTA dough, mamma calls out to show me how it is done, mmmm rrravioli, YUM, YUM.

First, A mound of fluffy flour on the table, two kilos? Gee wheeze Louise, reckon we need a spade.

 Fingers, in the middle, Mamma made a well, she did not fiddle.

Three eggs, "plop-plop-plop", into the centre, she began to mix it altogether.

Her other hand free, she poured a cup of salty warm water she had prepared at the ready.

Like a dance, mixing and pouring a little each time. Both hands in sync like poetry and rhyme.

Finally the ingredients blended together, golly gosh, it seemed to take AGES and forEVER!

Now a giant yellow ball, "Bella!"...well, I answered Mamma's call.

Washed dry hands, they did plunge, into that giant ball of soft and gooey gunge.

"Brava bella mia, cosi`", she said, my mantra kneading the dough "mmmmm...rrravioli for me."

Time passed, it felt like eternity and aaages, the pasta dough was ready for its next final stages.

Portions cut off the great yellow ball, Mamma dusts each piece with flour, "pit pat, pit pat", "Mamma!" I did call.

"Can I turn the handle please? Pretty please?" I did ask. 

"Si bella mia, vieni qui",  I promptly began my task.

Both my little hands cranking  the handle, round and round and round... Mesmorised I heard a shriek "Ferma!" Oops, the flat bit of pasta came close to the ground.

I started again after Mamma said "Okay", she spoke little English, you see so I knew what she had to say.

Next in it's pasta transformation, came the rrravioli mould and cutter wheel. All hands on deck, get ready at the station!

One  silky sheet, a pinch of mince in each tiny square and another on top, behold a mini quilted blanket, I can't wait to eat it, I'm certainly going to pop!

"Flip!"  A familiar shape laid out flat, Mamma took the cutter, "zip, zip, zippity, zip", done just like that.

Perfect little pillows each and every one. Mmmm  rrravioli, so many, must be over a hundred and one.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Salivating at the thought, I'm in heaven!

Eight, nine, ten...THEN

Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, hooley dooley, Chrissy will be nifty!

Sixty, seventy, eighty, "come on Mamma, come on matey!"

Ninety and one hundred was the score, hang on, there's more...

Passionately poised and with proficiency, Mamma zipped along the doughy tracks most furiously.

Two hundred, three hundred, four hundred and MORE!

Desperately I pleaded "Ma is that it? The rrravioli is spilling onto the floor!"

"Uno minuto tesoro", she uttered to me. Mamma Mia! How much MORE could there be?

"Echo, echo - tutto  finito  bella mia", I wiped my brow in a sigh of relief. 

For Mamma declared it was the end, my head flopped on the table, I said"good grief ".

The sight before me on that table, was a pillowy dough like the Darling Ranges.  Can I keep counting? Am I able?

A light at the end of the culinary tunnel, at last, FIVE HUNDRED. In a heap I gasped "MA! A drink please and cold flannel!"

On Christmas Day we sat at the table in the sweltering heat, waving our famous Aussie salute. 

"Clink, clink" and "chin, chin" as we joyfully tapped our glasses of sparkly grape juice.

Proudly, we whole heartedly tucked into our Christmas Rrravioli,

Wishing each other the best and to you and yours a "Buon Natalie TUTTI!"





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