Thanksgiving, Ancora Pasta Style

We all know that Thanksgiving is the American food holiday. This year, because of Mr. Ancora Pasta's "real" job as a cook in the Maine Dining Room at the Harraseeket Inn in Freeport, ME, whose Thanksgiving buffet is enjoyed by over 800 people, the Ancora Pasta family is celebrating the holiday bit by bit over a whirlwind four-day period filled with food and family. Undoubtedly unsurprising to those who know us, this year's Thanksgiving meals feature Ancora Pasta's ravioli. Mr. Ancora Pasta was inspired by the traditional, seasonal flavors of Thanksgiving and created five different ravioli to be sold at the Bath Winter Farmers' Market. (Luckily Mrs. Ancora Pasta got to taste test each one...it's important to keep your better half happy, as I'm sure you already know.)

The first, and most common (though by no means common), was his Ravioli di Due Zucche: roasted delicata (from Goranson Farm, also at the BWFM) and kuri squashes with mascarpone cheese. This was the first, and only, ravioli we offered at our first farmers' market and it went like hot cakes! We sampled it out with a little EVOO, s&p, and some freshly grated nutmeg. Even at room temperature they were to die for!

At the second farmers' market we introduced our second ravioli, a dried Maine cranberry- and goat cheese-filled delicacy: Ravioli con Mirtilli Rossi e Formaggio di Capra. We got our cranberries from Sparrow Farm, who is at the BWFM, too. This is a little sweeter than your typical ravioli and will be an awesome addition to our Thanksgiving-Sunday supper tomorrow! (My dad, Ancora Pasta's own walking advertisement, is overjoyed that he was finally able to lay his hands on some of these ravioli as I previously sold the packages he'd reserved right out from under his nose!)

Mr. Ancora Pasta's favorite ravioli, the one he waxes most poetic about, is the Ravioli ai Funghi - Mushroom Ravioli. These are made with oyster mushrooms and locally foraged black trumpet mushrooms from Oyster Creek Mushroom Company (from my hometown of Damariscotta!). Mr. AP paired the mushrooms with a gorgonzola dolce, a softer, sweeter version of the strongly flavored blue cheese we commonly see here in the U.S. These ravioli are earthy and delicate and absolutely amazing.

The ravioli I provided for my Thanksgiving-day meal with my family was the Ravioli di Due Stagione (Two-Season Ravioli), named for its use of seasonal ingredients: maple syrup (spring) and acorn squash (fall), both from Goranson Farm. The maple syrup was a congratulations gift from my dad upon our highly successful first farmers' market, and the acorn squash was given to us in a trade between farmers' market vendors. (This act of trading among vendors is a nice little tradition at the farmers' market and certainly helps our goal of using as many products from the farmers' market as possible.)

And, last, but not least, the Ravioli alle Castagne. These chestnut ravioli were served today at our more "Italian" Thanksgiving brunch with Mr. Ancora Pasta's family. Chestnuts are one of those special treats common in his family's winter gatherings and there was no way we could overlook the perfect combination of nutty flavor and soft bite these nuts provided. Today we served them with a salsa alle noci, a light walnut and Tuscan cheese sauce. They were gobbled (ha!) up in minutes!

We anticipate many more types of ravioli and other stuffed pastas at upcoming farmers' markets. Christmas will feature new fillings such as a savory pear and pecorino cheese and a chocolate peppermint (dessert, anyone?). What would YOU like to see on our Christmas list?

Are you really Italian, Mr. Ancora Pasta?

Timothy O'Brien. About as non-Italian a name as you can get. Followed closely by Eric, Patrick and Allen, which just happen to be Tim's brothers' names. So, why pasta and ragù and not bangers and mash? Why a glass of wine and not a pint of beer? Why guanciale and pancetta and not corned beef and blood pudding?

In his 6th grade social studies class, Tim had to design his family tree. On one side he found a very proud English lineage, as far back as you could trace. On the other he found a hodge podge of Irish (O'Brien), German (Schlager), and even Swedish (Logren). The most predominant cultural influence, however, came from his paternal grandmother's branch of the tree - the Italian branch - which was the one most recently rooted in American soil. Marini, Capone, Cardarelli, Testa, Cappabianca - these names were the ones that attracted his interest and with which he was the most familiar.

Tim's grandmother, Viola Marini, is a first generation Italian-American, whose parents arrived in this country in the early part of the last century. Her father, Cesidio, never learned English. The household was about as Italian as you can get in Quincy, MA, and the food was no exception: they made their own wine; they drank goat's milk; they ate finocchio (fennel), rather than celery, stalks; and they made pasta and sauce from scratch every Sunday. Focusing primarily on the southern Italian cuisine of Campania, from where both Cesidio's and Filomena's families had come, Filomena taught her daughters - all five of them - to appreciate and cook in the old country's ways.

Tim grew up hearing Italian, especially words associated with food, thrown around in conversation. He grew up eating things no one in Maine had ever heard of: castagne (chestnuts) every Christmas; finocchio (fennel) with cream cheese and olives as an appetizer (it was only in the last couple of years that his now-wife informed him that "normal" people eat celery with cream cheese, not fennel with cream cheese); Auntie Ellie's biscotti, Grandma Viola's green (pistachio) cake and pizzelle, and Elsa's angelonies for dessert; and homemade red sauces with homemade meatballs. He grew up surrounded by people who ate their salad as a final course, drank sambuca and grappa as after-dinner aperitifs, and who never missed an opportunity for a family gathering.

So, when Tim's senior-year history project required him to focus on one aspect of his family's cultural history, he, of course, chose to study pasta. He'd seen his grandmother make it hundreds of times before. He'd watched her hang pasta to dry on the clothes drying rack every Sunday, just like her mother had done for decades. It was a no-brainer, really. He read every pasta book he could get his hands on, picked his grandmother's brain, borrowed her bastone (rolling pin), and set out to make fresh pasta. And how did it turn out? Horrible! Awful! Gummy, sticky, a glutenous mess. His mother asked him why there were worms in the water. He may have even ruined a pot. But he was hooked.

And today? Today's pasta is a far cry from that first disastrous experience. Frankly, we think it's delicious.