The ravioli I still think about

I had the ravioli al brasato at Osteria San Giulio, and I still think about them. That is a slightly inadequate restaurant review, but it is the reason I’m writing this.

There is something very appealing to me about braised meat inside pasta. Someone has already spent time on the filling, and then there is the business of putting it inside all those little parcels. I get to arrive at the end of that process with a fork. A very comfortable arrangement from my side of the table.

But knowing what a dish is doesn’t really explain why I remember it. I can write “ravioli al brasato” and link to the restaurant, and that tells someone where to start. It doesn’t get them to the bit I’m trying to describe, where a plate of food stays with me long after there is any practical reason to remember lunch or dinner.

Maybe I was particularly hungry. Maybe they were just that delicious. I like leaving both possibilities open, partly because I have no way of checking and partly because I don’t think being hungry makes the pleasure any less real. The appetite I brought to the table was part of eating them.

I wonder what would happen if I ordered them again. I would want the same feeling, which is quite a lot to ask of a plate of ravioli. The kitchen can make the food. It can’t arrange for me to turn up with exactly the same appetite and mood, or make it the first time again.

I’d still order them. I’m curious, and I’d like another plate. But I’m fond of the fact that I already have this one meal to remember, however another visit might turn out.

Somewhere in my head there is a table at Osteria San Giulio with those ravioli on it. I seem to be keeping it.