Remember the ravioli

By Catherine

I can still feel the taste in my mouth of my childhoods ravioli. I wasn't particularly found of pasta as a kid. Summer holidays in Italy at a small family resort, who served pasta for breakfast, lunch and dinner made its mark in my taste of food. My mother still don't like pasta dishes, and I was probably the only kid who didn't eat spaghetti and meatballs.

But I ate ravioli, and I can still remember Chef Boyardee's cans packed with light yellow raviolis. I loved them, and so did my dad.


My father was a great cook, but ravioli was our go to food when we where alone. I remembered the taste, but I didn't remember the ritual until I saw the video.

When the can was first open, my father and I always fished out one ravioli each and we ate it just as it was, cold. firm and with chunky pieces of the tomato sauce sticking to it. It was just that one ravioli, the rest of them went into the pot and where heated up and eaten on a plate by the kitchen table. Even though I loved it; that first, cold one was always the best.

Read the first three chapters in my books

Vinden ven med ett öronbedövande ljud runt huset, ett komplext och skrämmande ljud. I bakgrunden fanns ett otäckt susande som aldrig riktigt slutade. I förgrunden knakade och tjöt det i takt med att hela huset skallrade, vilket skapade ett olycksbådande dovt ljud. Vinden fick huset att kränga och vrida sig, som om det försökte skydda sig genom att röra sig i ryckiga kvidande rörelser.


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