Squash ravioli à la Todd English

If a famous chef hands you a cracker topped with caviar, it doesn’t prove anything. Of course it tastes good. It’s freakin’ caviar.

True culinary brilliance is revealed by creating extraordinary food from the humblest of building blocks. For example, the butternut squash ravioli that stole the show at the Whitefish Food and Wine Festival last month. Nothing more than flour, egg, cream, squash, almonds and Parmesan, those succulent stuffed noodles, frosted with brown butter foam, were arguably more delicious than the wagyu meatballs at the adjoining table.

I’m pop-culture illiterate when it comes to food. I haven’t watched food TV since Julia Child was on, in my teens. I’d maybe heard the name Todd English, but I wouldn’t have guessed Italian cuisine to be his specialty. Without being prepped by his rep, I was able to meet the guy with no pre-formed opinions.

A server handed me a small plate of wild mushrooms on polenta, and suddenly I could feel the chef behind me. I turned around to see a man who appeared less like the East Coast fancy pants flown in to preside over the inaugural convening of this festival and more like a redneck who had just crawled out of an outbuilding on a ranch. In other words, someone I wanted to party with. His cheffing done for the day, he wore a pair of greasy jeans and what appeared to be a buckskin vest.

I introduced myself and told him I hoped to nerd out about food. Arms folded across his barrel chest, he nodded in agreement, then motioned to the server to add more balsamic reduction to my chanterelles.

An Italian master of Irish goodbyes, English quickly vanished, leaving me to contemplate how perfectly the balsamic reduction enhanced the chanterelles. I felt like I was eating music. I sauntered over to the wagyu meatball table, where, after washing down some tender orbs with the closest glass of red I could find, I concluded it couldn’t get any better than this. And then I met the ravioli that changed my life.

In my first bites of those fragrant clouds, my weekend peaked. Possibly my life. At the very least, I should have retired from eating right then, while I was at the top. Nothing that has followed has compared to those plump, fluffy, creamy squares.

Later that evening, I cornered the chef at a bar, where he was ready to nerd out.

“Music is just noise until it hits your brain,” he said. “It’s your brain that perceives all those sounds together as music. And it’s the same with food. When it lands on our palate, our brain translates it into a symphony of flavors.”

Weeks later, when the wine stains had long dried, my son Remy and I recreated that ridiculous ravioli following the recipe English had so generously given me. Using an attachment for the KitchenAid stand mixer, we rolled out sheets of fresh pasta and filled it with a regal mixture that was more intoxicating than the contents of any bottle at the festival. That ravioli was a true symphony, discordant until it reached my brain, where the array of flavors was understood to be a masterpiece.

Butternut squash ravioli

I only have space to discuss the filling and sauce. Follow the rolling and shaping instructions of your choice.

Filling

• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 6 cups butternut squash
• 1/2 cup ground amaretti cookies (or crushed almonds)
• 1/2 cup fresh breadcrumbs
• 1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black
• pepper

Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat, then add the butternut squash. Cook until the squash is just starting to caramelize, about 10 minutes. Cover the squash with water and cook until tender, about 20 minutes. Transfer the squash to a food processor with a fitted blade. Add the amaretti, breadcrumbs, Parmesan cheese, nutmeg, salt and pepper. Blend until smooth.

Brown butter sauce

• 1/4 pound butter
• 1/8 pound grated Parmesan
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1/4 teaspoon salt

Melt the butter in a pot. Reduce the heat to medium and whisk until the milk solids cook to a golden brown. Add cream and bring to a simmer. Add grated Parmesan. Strain through a fine mesh sieve. Whip with an emulsion blender, then spoon the foam over the pasta.