Square Meals : When a 12th century Ligurian cook made the first bowl of raviolo, a cult was born.

Ravioli is a simple notion.

Italian food writer Paolo Lingua claims to see the basic ravioli idea--pressing two small sheets of dough around various fillings of meat and/or vegetables--in Babylonia, Egypt, Greece and Imperial Rome. The steamed or fried filled dumplings of China and Japan bear a resemblance to ravioli as well. Indeed, a disgraceful number of Italian restaurants in America today fashion their ravioli out of commercial Japanese gyoza wrappers rather than rolling their own.

Ravioli itself (it would be more correct to say “themselves”; the singular is “raviolo”--not that you’d ever want to eat just one) is eaten in various forms in most regions of Italy today and is widely appreciated across the French border, especially in the vicinity of Nice. But it is the Italian region of Liguria--whose capital is Genoa, and whose coastline constitutes the so-called Italian Riviera--that claims the invention of ravioli and has made of the dish something of a cult.

In Liguria, ravioli is widely considered “the queen of all minestre [thick soups] in the world,” as G.B. Ratto put it in his famous “La Cuciniera Genovese” (1864). (After the Italian Futurist poet Marinetti denounced pasta in 1930 and banned it from the Futurist table, a group of his Ligurian acolytes published a spirited defense of ravioli in the Genoese newspaper Il Lavoro, citing Ratto to prove that it was technically a minestra and not a pasta and thus could continue to be consumed in good conscience in the Futurist camp.)

Ravioli even figures in a 12th century miracle. Writer Franco Accame, who considers the dish an expression of the poetic, fanciful side of the Genoese character, reports that in the course of the beatification proceedings for the Sicilian hermit Guglielmo di Malavalle, it was affirmed that “when he happened to be served, one day, ravioli filled with lowly chaff, he blessed them and they changed into exquisite food.”

Genoa claims both the invention of ravioli and the coinage of its name. One etymology attributes both name and pasta to a 12th century family conveniently named Raviolo, said to have been innkeepers in Gavi Ligure--once part of Liguria but now in the neighboring region of Piedmont, in the province of Alessandria. (Yeah. And maybe spaghetti was invented by a family named Spaghetto.)

The more standard version of the story is that the term derives from the Genoese word rabiole, meaning “leftovers,” for the miscellaneous material with which ravioli might be filled. But for the record, there’s nothing close to that word in my Genoese dictionary; the standard term for leftovers there is avanzi.

On the other hand, the Grande Enciclopedia Illustrata Della Gastronomia states unequivocally that the term first appears in 1243 in the Cremona region, in Lombardy (which doesn’t even border Liguria) and that the word derives ultimately from rapa, Latin for turnip, the vegetable with which the earliest ravioli were supposedly filled. (The rapa and rabiole theories threaten to collide, incidentally, in the original Prosper Montagne Larousse Gastronomique, which has a listing for rabiole, defined as “a variety of kohl-rabi or turnip.”)

Until around the time of Bocaccio (1313-1375), ravioli were apparently sweet. Bocaccio, though, describes a dish of ravioli in capon broth, rolled in a mountain of grated cheese. The formal, celebratory Genoese version of the thing is filled with veal and assorted organ meats, ground up and amalgamated, and in Nice a bit of stew-like daube de boeuf may be included--but ravioli filled with only cheese and herbs or with greens are common, and there are even ravioli stuffed with fish.

This last idea is a comparatively recent one. It doesn’t appear in either of the earliest purely Genoese cookbooks, “La Cuciniera Genovese” (1863) or “La Vera Cuciniera Genovese Facile ed Economica” (1865).

The earliest fish raviolis I’ve been able to find are three stuffed with pureed fish, mixed with various other ingredients, in Gaspare Dellepiane’s “La Cucina di Strettissimo Magro: Senza, Carne, Uova e Latticini,” first published in 1880. Dellepiane also gives recipes for ravioli stuffed with chopped-up oysters (combined with escarole, anchovies, garlic, parsley and pine nuts) and even with caviar (plus escarole and pine nuts, but no anchovies or garlic in this case, for which I’m thankful)--neither of which, frankly, sounds very good. What does sound good, and is good, is ravioli filled with red mullet, a dish found with increasing frequency in Liguria today.

Ravioli has several close cousins along both the French and Italian rivieras. The raviolos of St.-Etienne-de-Tinee, high in the mountains above Nice, abutting Piedmont, are made, as they say in the dialect, en chapel de jendarmo, in the form of an old-fashioned gendarme’s hat--a sort of misshapen crescent swollen in the middle and peaked at the ends.

These are filled with Swiss chard or cabbage and potatoes or leeks and potatoes or dandelion greens and served with either tomato sauce, the juice of a daube, a simple walnut sauce or simply garlic and grated cheese.

The boursotou (or boussotou, or borsotti)--the word may relate to borsa, Italian for purse or bag--of the eastern Nicois back country, which are fried, were traditionally the fare of students and soldiers. It is said that there are 10 ways to make them and 100 occasions on which to eat them.

Colette Bourrier-Reynaud, in a recent book called “Les Recettes de Reparate: La Cuisine de Tradition en Pays Nicois,” gives a recipe calling for a filling of leeks, Swiss chard, spinach, rice, anchovies and grated cheese, wrapped ravioli-style in egg-dough pasta, then browned to a golden hue in oil. She adds that in Breil-sur-Roya, where boursotou are particularly esteemed, they are served abundantly at the beginning of a meal, then left on the table throughout--to be, inevitably, gobbled up by the time the meal is finished.

More famous along the coast, especially in Nice and Menton, are barbajouan (literally, Uncle John), which are more or less the same thing as boursotou. These are also fried ravioli, stuffed sometimes with pumpkin, sometimes with greens, sometimes with ricotta.

How these addictive little packets of fried dough got their name is something of a mystery. Nobody seems to know just who this particular Uncle John might have been or why this specialty was named after him.

It seems entirely possible, in fact, that the name isn’t a tribute to some avuncular personality at all but rather an insult of one variety or another, applied to the dish for some long-forgotten reason: Barbagianni, or Barba Zanni, was a character noted for his clumsiness in classic Commedia dell’Arte; in Genoese slang today, a barbaggion is a grumbler. And in earlier times in Nice, a barbajouan (or barbalucou) was a simpleton. These less than complimentary associations aside, barbajouan are quite delicious.

On the far eastern end of Liguria, which is prime frying country, the attractive town of Levanto has its own version of chard-stuffed fried ravioli called gattafin--a word of mysterious origin, also used to describe certain kinds of cake, apparently dating from the 14th century.

Pansotti (pansouti in Genoese) are an appealing eastern Ligurian variation on ravioli, with plenty of lore attached.

These plump, vaguely triangular little dumplings--their name is the local form of the Italian word panciuto, meaning corpulent or pot-bellied--are nearly always filled with mixed green herbs and graced with a walnut sauce. This sauce is sometimes said to have Persian origins, but it seems more likely that it may have been developed in the Genoese colonies on the Black Sea, where walnuts are an integral part of the indigenous cuisine.

The greens are traditionally a mixture known as prebuggiun or preboggion--which might include borage, pimpernel, chard, parsley, dandelion greens and sow thistle, among other things.

A colorful folk etymology links the name with that of a Genoese crusader, Goffredo di Buglione. According to the story, Di Buglione, suffering in his tent in the Holy Land from an unspecified illness, was restored to health by herbs gathered from nearby fields. The herbs were said to have been “per Buglione,” which evolved into prebuggiun.

A far more likely explanation is that the word--which first appears in print only in the mid-19th century--derives from per bollire, meaning either “for boiling” or perhaps “par-boiling,” because the mixture is always cooked in water before being further employed.

RED MULLET RAVIOLI IN THEIR OWN SAUCE (Ravioli di Triglia nel Loro Sugo)

This is a recipe from Franco and Melly Solari at Ca’ Peo in Leivi, in the hills above Chiavari, east of Genoa. Red mullet is obtainable but rare in Southern California. Other small, sweet, tender fish work well for this dish. Sand dabs are ideal; butterfish or farm-raised (small) striped bass may also be used.

FISH STOCK

2 sprigs marjoram

2 sprigs mint

1 leafy interior celery stalk

1 bay leaf

1 1/2 pounds whole red mullets, sand dabs or farm-raised striped bass

1/2 cup dry white wine

1 carrot

1 onion

4 sprigs flat-leaf parsley, minced

Water

Tie marjoram, mint, celery stalk and bay leaf together with kitchen twine to make bouquet garni.

Scale, filet and bone fish. Reserve 2/3 flesh for Filling and 1/3 flesh for Fish Sauce. Place fish heads and bones in stock pot with wine, carrot, onion, 2 minced parsley sprigs and bouquet garni. Add enough water to barely cover ingredients, bring to boil, reduce heat and simmer 1 hour.

FILLING

2 tablespoons butter

Reserved fish

1 egg

6 ounces (3/4 cup) ricotta

1 ounce Parmigiano-Reggiano, grated (about 1/4 cup)

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Heat butter in skillet, add reserved 2/3 fish and cook over low heat until cooked through, 4 to 5 minutes.

Remove cooked fish and crush to paste with mortar and pestle. Mix in egg, ricotta and Parmigiano-Reggiano. Season generously to taste with salt and pepper. Set aside.

PASTA

3 cups flour

Salt

4 eggs

Mix flour and pinch of salt together in large bowl. Make well in center of flour and add eggs, stirring into flour with fork until dough holds together but is very crumbly. Turn dough out onto lightly floured work surface, divide into 2 pieces and knead each briefly in turn. Cover dough with wax paper and refrigerate 30 minutes.

Remove dough from refrigerator and cut into even number of strips to fit pasta machine. Roll each strip through all settings in machine from thickest to thinnest to form thin dough sheets. As each sheet is done, lay it out on lightly floured work surface.

Place about 1/2 teaspoon Filling about 3/4 inch in from 1 corner of 1 dough sheet. Flatten filling very slightly with back of spoon, then repeat process, leaving about 3/4 inch of dough on all sides of each bit of filling. When 1 sheet is filled, place another sheet over it and lightly but firmly crimp edges and press down dough between bits of filling.

Cut ravioli into squares with pizza cutter or long knife. Repeat process until all filling is used. Toss well with flour, then refrigerate ravioli, covered, 30 minutes.

FISH SAUCE

2 cloves garlic, minced

6 tablespoons butter

4 plum tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and chopped

Reserved fish

Boiling salted water

Cook garlic in butter over low heat about 5 minutes, then add tomatoes. Strain Fish Stock into pan and add reserved 1/3 fish. Raise heat and cook at slow boil 10 to 15 minutes, or until liquid reduces and sauce thickens. Reduce heat to very low, break up fish with fork, add salt and pepper to taste, and add remaining parsley.

Cook ravioli in large pot of boiling salted water until they float to surface, 3 to 4 minutes. Transfer to serving bowl and spoon Fish Sauce over them.

Makes 4 servings.

Each serving contains about:

770 calories; 473 mg sodium; 256 mg cholesterol; 28 grams fat; 75 grams carbohydrates; 47 grams protein; 1.07 grams fiber.

“POT-BELLIED” RAVIOLI WITH WALNUT SAUCE (Pansotti con Salsa di Noci)

The important thing in choosing greens for the filling of these ravioli is to use a wide combination--at least some of which should be mildly bitter and have a bit of pungency to them--to provide a contrast with the rich, almost unctuous walnut sauce. Chard, spinach and/or borage are good to start with; some member of the chicory family is always a good addition and parsley never hurts. A handful of mesclun greens would be in the right spirit too.

PASTA

3 1/2 cups flour

1 teaspoon salt

5 eggs

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Mix flour and salt in large bowl. In separate bowl, beat eggs and 3 tablespoons oil together. Make well in center of flour and add egg mixture, stirring with fork until dough holds together but is very crumbly. Turn dough out onto lightly floured work surface; divide in half and knead each briefly. Cover dough with wax paper and refrigerate at least 1 hour.

FILLING

1 pound Swiss chard

Boiling salted water

1 pound spinach (or 1/2 pound each spinach and borage leaves), cut in thin strips (about 8 cups)

1 small head radicchio, cut in thin strips

4 flat-leaf parsley sprigs, minced

1/2 pound other assorted greens (curly endive, escarole, dandelion greens, mustard greens, etc.), cut in thin strips (about 2 1/2 cups)

2 eggs

3/4 pound ricotta (1 1/2 cups)

Pinch nutmeg

Salt

Trim stalks from chard, reserving for another use. Cut leaves into very fine shreds. Blanch chard 5 minutes in pot of boiling salted water. Add spinach, radicchio, parsley and other assorted greens and continue cooking about 3 minutes. Drain thoroughly and transfer to large bowl. Allow to cool to room temperature, then lightly beat eggs and add to vegetables. Mix thoroughly and add 1 cup ricotta, nutmeg and salt to taste.

Remove dough from refrigerator and cut into even number of strips to fit pasta machine. Roll each strip through machine to form thin dough sheets. As each one is done, lay it out on lightly floured work surface.

By hand, form filling into small spheres slightly smaller than pingpong balls. Place 1 sphere about 2 inches in from corner of dough sheet. Repeat process, leaving about 2 inches of dough on all sides of each sphere. When sheet is filled, place another sheet over top and lightly but firmly crimp edges and press dough down between bits of filling. Cut ravioli into triangles with pizza cutter or long knife. Repeat process until all filling is used.

WALNUT SAUCE

1/3 cup pine nuts

1/2 pound shelled walnuts, very finely chopped (2 cups)

1 clove garlic

Leaves from 4 to 5 sprigs marjoram

Salt

1/2 cup olive oil

Water

Toast pine nuts lightly in small, heavy, dry pan over high heat, shaking pan until nuts start to color. Transfer immediately to paper towel to cool.

Grind walnuts, pine nuts, garlic, marjoram and pinch or 2 of salt to paste in large mortar. When nuts are thoroughly crushed, work in remaining 1/2 cup ricotta, then work in olive oil, little at time, until mixture is thick and creamy. Stir in up to 1/2 cup water to thin to sauce consistency.

Cook pansotti in large pot of boiling salted water until they float to surface, 5 to 6 minutes. Gently drain, transfer to serving bowl and carefully stir in Walnut Sauce.

Makes 6 servings.

Each serving contains about:

931 calories; 796 mg sodium; 277 mg cholesterol; 61 grams fat; 67 grams carbohydrates; 36 grams protein; 4.47 grams fiber.

NICOIS FRIED RAVIOLI (Barbajouan)

This is recipe is from Franck Cerutti, owner-chef of the superb Don Camillo restaurant in Nice (and now also sous-chef for Alain Ducasse at the three-star Le Louis XV in Monte Carlo).

PASTA

3 1/2 cups flour

1 teaspoon salt

5 eggs

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Mix flour and salt together in large bowl. In separate bowl, beat eggs and oil together. Make well in center of flour and add egg mixture, stirring into flour with fork until dough holds together but is very crumbly. Turn dough out onto lightly floured work surface, divide into 2 pieces and knead each briefly. Cover dough with wax paper and refrigerate at least 3 hours.

FILLING

1 onion, finely chopped

2 to 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 pound ricotta (about 2 cups)

1/4 pound prosciutto di Parma or other good-quality cured ham, chopped (about 1 cup)

2 ounces Parmigiano-Reggiano, grated (about 1/2 cup)

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

1 whole egg plus 1 egg yolk

Oil for frying

Cook onion in oil over low heat until soft and golden, 15 to 20 minutes.

Place ricotta in bowl, then mix in cooked onion with its cooking oil, prosciutto, Parmigiano-Reggiano egg and egg yolk, salt and pepper to taste.

Remove dough from refrigerator and cut into even number of strips to fit pasta machine. Roll each strip through all settings in machine to form thin dough sheets. As each is done, lay it out on lightly floured work surface.

Place about 1 rounded teaspoon filling about 1 inch in from 1 corner of 1 dough sheet. Flatten filling very slightly with back of spoon, then repeat process, leaving about 1 inch of dough on all sides of each bit of filling. When 1 sheet is filled, place another sheet over top and lightly but firmly crimp edges and press down dough between bits of filling. Cut ravioli into squares with pizza cutter or long knife. Repeat process until all filling is used. Toss well with flour, then refrigerate ravioli, covered, 30 minutes to 1 hour.

Deep-fry ravioli in small batches or bake 4 to 5 minutes on lightly greased baking sheet in 375-degree oven, until light brown, about 10 minutes. Serve immediately.

Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Each of 6 servings contains about:

649 calories; 974 mg sodium; 313 mg cholesterol; 33 grams fat; 57 grams carbohydrates; 30 grams protein; 0.35 gram fiber.

* Bowls from Malibu and Laguna Colony.