unattended crockpot enchilada, ay cramba

Crock pots both intrigue and scare me equally. I only have vague childhood memories of them and always mangled meat remnants were involved. How could a meal magically cook itself while unattended? If they were so great, wouldn't everyone use one? After finding a recipe for crock pot black bean enchiladas from a trusted source with pretty pictures, I considered myself a crock pot convert. Let's examine keywords first, before we proceed, shall we. Enchilada, check. Easy, check. 2-4 hours and I don't have to be home, check.

Here's what happened. I assembled as instructed. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. As I layer 3 enchiladas, things start looking a little crowded. I figure I'll just pile it all on. Can't mess up crock pot recipes, they're designed for women on the go, right? Fill enchilada, pile, repeat. Top with cheese. Great! I sit the lid on top with virtually zero room thinking this was ok. The whole time at work I was convinced I was doomed to come home to charred ashes of what was once my house.

dramatic reenactment of the great crock pot disaster

4 hours later, I get home (house still there) and can smell a Mexican aroma before I even open the door. Unsure if this was a good or bad sign, I let myself in. There's the crock pot with the lid practically exploding off and cheese and salsa and enchilada innards pouring out. I was too panicked and mad to think of taking a picture. I was starved by that point. My hopes and dreams of coming home to a magically perfect Mexican fiesta were shattered. Fortunately tortillas, cheese and black beans taste great no matter what, so you can bet I ate those babies up. With dinner devoured, 45 minutes later I managed to save a few enchiladas and scrub the crock pot clean. How did I think 12 enchiladas crammed into a tiny 3 quart Hamilton Beach slow-cooker wouldn't result in disaster.

Just as I suspected. Slow cookers only work on meat, operated by a mom.

ravioli and butter: a holy matrimony

Butter tastes great, especially when you are completely unaware of the quantity in which you are consuming. Additional items to add to this equation include; butternut squash, pasta, cheese and of course, more butter. The harvest season means I need only two things, butternut squash and the bible. My true kitchen savior has to be Deborah Madison. The book of hers that I refer to mostly, Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, is my go to guide. My ideas about cooking and what to do with mystery vegetables have changed drastically for the better thanks to her. I'll stop here. Deb deserves an entire post praising her genius. 

I'd been interested in making the Deborah Madison recipe for butternut squash ravioli for a while, it just seemed intimidating. I'm too lazy to write out the whole thing, but luckily someone wasn't! Go here for the recipe. Plus, the pictures and the process are outlined more beautifully.

Making ravioli is easier than it looks. My day of ravioli making also inspired a botched old Italian lady accent, think "Mama Lisio will maka you da ravioli". Having a pasta machine, ravioli press and a willing helper makes the process pretty quick. Add in the bad Italian accent and you'll have yourself a great afternoon. While I was cranking out the dough, my kitchen buddy was filling the ravioli press and making all the magic happen.

I took some not-so-pretty photos of a few steps. Excuse the poor unappetizing lighting, please.

 

Brown butter sage and pecan sauce. This is the part where I had to use my body to shield any

onlookers from seeing the insane amount of butter the sage and pecans are now bathing in.

Baby ravioli, all grown up.
  



Tons of butter + ravioli + butternut squash = yes. Yumio! Time-a to eata the ravioli. Mangia mangia.