Wonton Ravioli with Chicken and Artichoke Filling

Wait a minute…didn’t we already discuss wonton ravioli? Well, yes, we did, back in February. But that was a different ravioli. And midway through Sunday’s filling and folding marathon, I happened on a new and, to my thinking, improved fill n’ fold method that saves time, energy, and wontonnage.

Doubling that wait a minute, I know this interrupts my promised cherry recipes, but stay with me…cherry bounce in the very next post.

So why wonton ravioli with chicken artichoke filling? Why now?

About a year ago I reviewed a book for Popmatters that shall remain nameless. The brave and beautiful heroine, captive to a mean and nasty ruler of nations, carries Communism’s pure fire in her heart. Of course she gets caught. Once imprisoned, our heroine is subject to many cruel punishments, the worst of which is imposed at night: our heroine may only sleep on her left side–or maybe it’s her right? Regardless–she may only sleep on one side. Should she roll over, the guards shout her awake.

Now, this book was bad for many reasons, and imprisonment is never a laughing matter. But I laughed at that. Woe unto me if I so much as consider my left side. Even asleep, my body knows never to roll that direction. The problem is…well….now I have tendonitis on the right….you see where this is going.

Out of bed at 4am, that’s where. Sunday morning’s wee hours saw me sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, noticing my usual dose of pain meds were unto St. Joseph’s baby aspirin. Alas, I am no baby. Every joint offered up competing commentary: hurt, hurt, hurt. A flare. What had I done? Breathed too deeply? Turned the steering wheel too enthusiastically? Existed the wrong way?

Four in the morning and the day was already shot to hell. Now what? No way would I be able to write. Reading? Unlikely. Cooking sounded appealing. Yeah, the pain was a motherf-. But I’d hurt like that no matter what.

I dimly recalled last night’s leftover chicken…and the three artichokes in need of cooking and eating. I’d planned to reheat the whole shebang and call it good.  Why not try something else? Something nice and distracting? Like wonton ravioli?

A mindless afternoon of spooning, brushing, and folding opened before me. Perfect.

So, let us talk time and quantity. Preparing the filling and stuffing the ravioli can be spread over a few days, or done in a single marathon session. You can make enough to feed the neighborhood or an abstemious few. It’s entirely up to you.

While such flexibility is lovely in the kitchen, it does not lend itself to recipe writing. So I’ll give nice formal amounts in a nice formal recipe, with helpful guidelines for smaller quantities in the notes.

Now, folding. The original recipe, hailing from Jennifer McLagan’s Bitter, calls for square wonton wrappers. You lay the floured side down on your countertop, place a teaspoon of filling in the center, brush the edges with egg white, and lay a second square over. Press down gently, helping the ravioli exhale extra air. Trim with a cookie cutter. Press again to ensure a good seal. Place your lovely ravioli on a baking sheet.

This works, and I was going along blithely until I ran out of square wrappers. I opened the new package, which happened to be round:

My cookie cutters are cheap soft tin. Just cutting through the wontons literally bent them out of shape. What if I brushed the circle with egg white and folded it over? Granted, this isn’t the classic ravioli shape, but hey, we’re using wonton wrappers. Authentic Italian this ain’t.

As you see, it worked beautifully, saving time, wrapper, and hands. It did require downsizing from a teaspoon of filling to a half-teaspoon. No matter: having eliminated the cookie cutter step, the whole process moves more quickly, meaning smaller ravioli aren’t a problem.

Don’t fret if you are unable to find round wonton wrappers. Square ones are fine. The dish works either way.

While we’re talking “can’t get:” I realize fresh artichokes aren’t readily available outside California. Plain frozen or canned artichoke bottoms would also work. Do not use marinated artichokes, unless you enjoy Italian salad-dressing flavored ravioli. Feel free to substitute cooked greens, well-squeezed (liquid will keep the wonton from sealing). You could also omit the veg and bump up the ricotta.

Two methods of liberating egg yolks from their whites:

First method: place two small bowls in the sink, where they make less mess. Crack an egg over bowl one. Tip the yolk back and forth between shell halves, allowing the white to fall into bowl one. Tip the yolk into bowl two, cover with plastic wrap, and cook for breakfast (the egg, not the bowl).

Second method: Again, place two small bowls in the sink. Crack the egg. This time, let the yolk fall into your fingers, which you’ve separated just enough so the white falls through to eagerly waiting bowl one. Place yolk in second bowl. Cover with plastic wrap. Cook for breakfast.

Freezing tip: wonton ravioli are delicate. I layer them on wax paper (parchment is fine, too), then slide ’em into a Ziploc. If you freeze them in a jumble, they’ll stick together while defrosting and tear while cooking, spilling filling into the cooking water and generally becoming an inedible mess.

I won’t lie: these are a production. But they aren’t a difficult production; I am incapable of difficult cookery at the best of times, which this decidedly wasn’t.