By Chef Alexis Hernandez
Some foods stay with you long after you learn how to cook
Chef Boyardee ravioli was never something I expected to write about.
People assume chefs stop eating certain things.
Canned food, for example.
But the truth is simpler than that.
Some foods belong to your childhood, and once something earns that place, it tends to stay.
For me, it’s Chef Boyardee ravioli, the classic beef in tomato sauce.
I’ll admit something. I’m partial to the mini ones. They fit on a spoon better.
The larger ones always needed to be sliced with the side of the spoon, which felt like extra work when you were ten years old and trying to watch television.
Saturday night television
My sister and I had a routine.
Dinner in our house happened early. Around five o’clock. That was when our mom cooked, so that was when we ate. But around eight or nine on Saturday night, we’d get hungry again.
That’s when the ravioli came out. Two cans. Two small pots.
We heated them separately because our food could not touch. Not even a little. That was the rule. Two siblings, two cans, two pots.
Back then there weren’t many channels anyway. CBS and ABC carried most of our Saturday night.
At eight o’clock we watched The New Adventures of Wonder Woman. Red, white, and blue. Bullet-deflecting bracelets. The Lasso of Truth.
When that ended, we switched over to ABC.
The Love Boat.
Then Fantasy Island.
And sometime during those shows we would start the real contest.
The ravioli contest
The goal was simple.
Eat slowly.
Not because we were savoring it, but because we were competing.
We would watch the show and see who could resist finishing first. Whoever still had one ravioli left at the end of the episode would win.
There was no prize.
But when you’re nine or ten years old, the rules make perfect sense.
Eating it now
I still eat it sometimes. Not exactly the way we did then.
Now I heat it up and add a few things.
Some fresh basil or tarragon. Granulated garlic. Onion powder.
If there’s cream cheese in the refrigerator, a spoonful might go in. If I have cheddar or goat cheese around, that might land in the pot too.
People tend to have strong opinions when they hear that a chef eats canned ravioli.
The truth is, the things people dismiss in the kitchen often carry the most memory with them. I wrote about that same quiet power in The Garlic That Whispers.
But I don’t think they’re reacting to the food.
I think they’re reacting to the memory.
For me, it’s that can of ravioli.
I think that’s why people get so worked up when they hear a chef eats Chef Boyardee.
They think I’m defending the ravioli.
I’m not.
I’m defending Saturday night.
Two pots on the stove.
A show about to start.
And one last ravioli left in the pan if you wanted to win.
