Ravioli-O-Rama: Making and Eating Cheesy Pillows of Goodness in Baltimore's Little Italy

Ravioli, before ...

And ravioli, after - all sauced up and ready to get in my belly

As a general rule, the very last place you will ever find me milling about is a church, particularly on a Sunday. I mean, the only things I can be said to do religiously are cook and eat. Notable exceptions to this rule include the lure of stunning architecture, a ridiculously tall spire to climb, a shriveled hand or other bizarre allegedly "saintly" relic, or, most important of all - food. And so it was food that caused me to venture into the church basement of St. Leo's in Baltimore's Little Italy not once, but twice, within the space of a month.

It all started when I decided to write a story as my Urbanite food editor self about the biannual ravioli making extravaganza, in which volunteers come together over a weekend to make 15,000 ravioli for the upcoming ravioli dinner. You can read all about that experience here - it was a morning filled with story telling, jokes, gentle ribbing, and, of course, the serious work of ravioli making. (Poppa Trix took the beautiful photos on that day, as I had my hands full taking notes and actually learning to make the ravioli.) Check it out:

Carmela Serafini teaching me how to make the ravioli:

 The dough rollers doing their stuff:

That's Lucy Pompa on the right - she's the matriarch of the whole operation, and she's an astounding 92 years old!

As a Catholic school survivor, I was pleasantly surprised when the delightful Sister Theodore showed zero inclination to hit me with a ruler.

Here, Anna Brotto is teaching me how to make tortellini. Although she hails from Sicily, she learned the technique from a friend from Emilia-Romagna. I felt really honored that she stopped to teach this to me!

So, after all that work, Poppa Trix and I  I couldn't miss the dinner, now could we? I had worked up a mighty craving for ravioli.

As it turns out, you don't just walk into a ravioli dinner. There are procedures and protocol that must be followed:

While waiting for your number to get called, you sit in a crowded room, where these guys - who called themselves "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly" - are selling wine. Actually,  they gave me a glass for free. It's fun being a girl!:

 

Once your number is called, you head downstairs to the incredibly crowded dining hall area. It was really a madhouse! Along with the food, there were games, which added to the overall not-unpleasant sense of chaos and frenzy:

 

Once seated at the communal table, a volunteer took our orders - the choices were ravioli with meatballs or spaghetti with meatballs. Of course we chose the ravioli! While waiting for our food, I squeezed through the crowd to check out the kitchen:

"Do you have a pass to be back here?" The teased me mercilessly!

I had barely been gone a moment, but when I returned to the table my salad was already waiting for me. I have been to many restaurants that could learn  a thing or two about efficiency from this operation. I didn't expect the salad to be a high point but it was surprisingly good:

The justifiably proud salad makers:

Load 'em up and get 'em out:

Meanwhile, constant announcements were being made over the loudspeaker that there was a 45 minute wait for a table, so everyone needed to eat their food  - and get out! So what did we do? Ate our scrumptious food:

... took our full happy bellies  ... and got out!