Welcome to another episode of Eating the Past. I’m Laura
Gelfand, and on today’s show we’ll take dumplings from the sublime
to the ridiculous.
I don’t know about all of you, but when I was a kid, Chef Boyardee
ravioli were a real treat, although, like many other childhood
favorites, now I would only eat them if I was starving and there was
literally nothing else around. I mean, my God, the salt, and the
texture.
That said, researching the story of how ravioli ended up in
cans sent me down a real rabbit hole, so buckle up.
The first mention of ravioli is found in the papers of the 14th century
merchant of Prato, Francesco Datini, and around the same time
ravioli appear in the Italian cookbook, Il Libro del Cuoco. Regional
variations of these stuffed pasta dumplings were made throughout
Italy, and across Europe, starting in the renaissance.
So how did a dumpling exquisite enough to be served to a sixteenth
century Pope end up in cans in the twentieth century? Sources
disagree on whether it was the Italian army that initially canned
ravioli during the first World War, or if the process was pioneered
by an Italian immigrant who settled in the U.S.
Sixteen-year old Ettore Boiardi (spelled b.o.i.a.r.d.i) arrived in New
York in 1914, and within a year the remarkable culinary prodigy was
head chef at the Plaza Hotel. In 1915, he catered Woodrow Wilson’s
wedding, and the president was so impressed that in 1918 he had
Boiardi cook a meal for 2000 soldiers returning from World War I.
When he was 22 years old, Boiardi was the nation’s most famous chef,
and he decided to open his own restaurant in the glittering
metropolis of Cleveland, Ohio. At the time, Italian food was
relatively unknown in the Midwest, and Clevelanders lined up
around the block to eat at Boiardi’s Giardino d’Italia (or garden of
italy) restaurant. Customers clamored for Boiardi’s recipes,
especially his red sauce, which he bottled and sold in milk jars.
In 1928, he started canning his sauces and pastas, and in 1936, he moved
his operation to rural Pennsylvania where he produced some 250,000
cans of sauce a day. His major innovation was to wrap a portion of
spaghetti together with a small container of grated parmesan and a
jar of his sauce in cellophane, creating an exotic meal that could
easily be made at home. At this point, his company was the largest
importer of parmesan in the U.S. Because salesmen had such difficult
pronouncing his name, he spelled it phonetically, and Chef Boy-ar-
dee was born.
During the second World War, the company produced army rations,
including ravioli, with 5000 employees working around the clock.
When the war ended Boiardi sold the business, but stayed on as a
consultant and the face on the label until 1978.
It is truly remarkable that the man behind soggy, slippery, and salty
beefaroni played such an important role in popularizing Italian
food in this country.
Thanks Chef Boiardi!
