(Pig parts: Let's not think about it too much, shall we?)

Have you ever thought about what possessions you value most in the world? Don't worry, it never really occurred to me, either, except as a sort of existential idea in the back of my mind. But sometimes you get a weird hand.

A few years ago, I found myself standing at the doorstep of an apartment I once shared with my ex-husband and children, with five hours to pack up everything I cared about. We had thirty boxes, some packing tape and a tiny U-Haul truck. With the seconds ticking away, it suddenly became painfully clear that I could only grab what mattered most, and leave the rest behind.

Looking back, I think a lot about what ended up in those boxes - and what didn't. The obvious items went in first: family photos, the children's toys and cherished possessions (we left behind the pet Walking Stick bug that I'd always hated), clothing, important documents, and the queen-sized bed. Next were the non-essentials: Lolly, my favorite porcelain fairy, a box of baby clothes, and every item in my kitchen, save a few paper plates and cups. I knew I had to have it all--every knife, fork, mixing bowl and serving platter stacked up to the ceiling in that insanely tiny kitchen. And most important of all were my recipes. Many were written on tattered pieces of paper, stuffed into drawers and hidden behind spice jars. Each one was a memory and it was impossible to leave even one behind.

One of my favorites was a recipe for home-made ravioli from my husband's Italian grandmother, Marie. It took me five years to get her to teach me how to roll the dough. Once I finally learned, she gave me a hand-cranked pasta machine and my own set of ravioli trays. I've had few prouder moments. Despite the situation, his family had in so many ways become my own, their recipes my recipes.

When I make homemade ravioli, I rarely use a recipe anymore (I've changed it to my own tastes and memorized it by heart). But Marie's recipe still sits on my shelf, tattered and torn, stained and folded over and over, reminding me of the possessions and the memories I treasure most in the world.

Marie would likely be horrified by this aberration of her authentic recipe, but I love filling raviolis with unlikely mixtures. With fall setting in, I wanted to create something both savory and sweet, with lots of flavor. The fun thing about ravioli is that you can create a variety of sauces to complement the fillings. I tried it with a lemon cream sauce (just a simple white sauce with some Meyer lemon and about a 1/4 cup of Fume Blanc) that brought together the sunny flavors of summer with the spice and heartiness of autumn. I think it would also be great with a browned butter sauce. See what you like best.

I experiment with flavors and amounts to taste, so don't be afraid to change things up to your own liking.

Sausage, fennel, goat cheese and apple ravioli with lemon cream sauce

The filling
12 oz. ground sausage (gourmet if you can, but Jimmy Dean is fine)
3 apples, sliced (pref. Gala)
1 small onion
1 bulb fresh fennel (take off fibrous outer skin and slice very thinly)
8 oz. crumbled goat cheese
1 egg
1/4 cup bread crumbs (I use panko)

In a large pan, cook thinly sliced apples, fennel and onions until golden - aiming for slightly caramelized but not burnt. I add a pinch of sugar and a pinch of lemon while cooking. Keep heat medium to low and let them get really soft.

Meanwhile, cook sausage in a separate pan until browned. Drain grease and set sausage aside.

When everything is cooked and cooled, mix apple, fennel and onion mixture with the sausage. Incorporate well and add the goat cheese and bread crumbs. Mixture should be stiff, but pliable. Taste, and add salt and pepper to taste. Once you're satisfied, add the breadcrumbs a bit at a time - these are just to give the mixture a little body and keep it together. Finally, add one beaten egg. Spoon a small amount into your ravioli dough.

Homemade Ravioli

You'll need a pasta machine to do this right. I've adapted this from a number of recipes.

1 cup cake flour (nice, but not required)
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp. salt
2 eggs
1/4 cup of warm water
1 tbsp. olive oil

To really make authentic pasta dough, pour the flour onto a smooth surface and make a well in the center. Add salt, olive oil and eggs to the center, ideally not letting it spill over the sides of the well. Gently pinch at the sides of the well, incorporating the flour into the eggs and olive oil. If you do it right, you end up with a nice ball of dough to which you can add the water as needed until it is a pliable consistency. Knead, then set aside to rest for about an hour.
After it rests, cut the ball in quarters. Put the dough through the widest setting on your pasta machine. Roll through a couple times, patting with a small amount of flour. Continue to increase the setting, making the dough thinner and thinner. Ravioli dough should be thin, but not see-through, to make it tender.

Meyer Lemon Cream Sauce

3 tbsp. butter
3 tbsp. flour
1 cup whole milk, warmed
Juice of 1/2 Meyer (or regular) Lemon
1/4 cup Fume Blanc

Melt butter, then add flour, whisking briskly. Let the mixture cook down and brown about 2 minutes, but make sure it doesn�t burn. Add the warmed milk and stir until you have a nice, smooth sauce. Add the lemon, stirring quickly and the wine. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Drizzle over the top of the raviolis.

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