You know those people - the ones who can't handle the temptation of knowing what a gift is. That one friend who says, "You are going to love your birthday party," knowing perfectly well it's a surprise party. Well, that's me.
I start out with the best intentions but I can feel that gift or secret talking to me. It's like a "Tell Tale Heart" come alive. Once I know there is a gift in the house the downward spiral starts. First, I insist that I can handle it - I am a grown up now, I can control my urges. Then comes the casual looking. You know, just scanning the room as I walk through. As I go, the urge to pick up a thing here and a thing there sets in. Then the action that pulls the pin out of the grenade - looking in the closet. It starts out a slight movement of clothes and shoes next thing I know it's been three hours and it looks like looters have ransacked my house. There I am, left standing amongst piles of my shame with no explanation and I pull the terrible Mom move and pass the blame to the most innocent in the house, who still lacks the ability to defend herself. Oh, the shame.
I have always been like this. When I was a child I would open all the gifts and re-wrap them. Not only did I ruin it for me with my inability to shut my mouth and control that urge but I also took down the whole family. As everyone would start to open their gift I would yell out what they were getting. What's worse then getting socks at Christmas? A snotty four year old yelling out "It's socks!!" One year my Paw-Paw got so aggravated with me that he made it his mission to keep his canaille granddaughter out of the gifts. As I snuck out of my bed I softly tiptoed around the house headed for the gift hiding spot (I figured that out every year without fail). I'd do a quick look around and then gently turn the knob, opening the door to the closet. There they were - all the gifts piled high just waiting for me to overdose on the satisfaction of knowing their secrets. My excitement started to fade when I noticed that they were all a peculiar gray color. I grabbed one and realized that I had been trumped. Paw-Paw had gotten me. Every present was completely wrapped in duct tape, multiple layers it seemed. Being the stubborn cuss I am known to be I tried to figure out how to get around it. I even went as far to go looking for duct tape so I could re-wrap them after pulling them apart. Paw-Paw had hidden that too. Realizing defeat I went to bed. Christmas morning came and everybody sat around opening their presents, passing the scissors to each other to get through the "Anti-Jolie Theft System". Everybody was happy except the sad little girl in the corner who's joy of ruining others surprises had been viciously stolen from her. My Paw-Paw had won and that gave him more Christmas joy than any other gift you could give him. He had been the champion that day but I was not easily stopped. It's on Paw-Paw, it's on.
In my theme of shaking up that Christmas dinner, I went with the perfect little present that you can unwrap at any time- Ravioli. This is another recipe I've adapted to fit our ingredients and culture in Louisiana. Y'all know we love our sausage, fresh or smoked. So I combined both for the filling. All these lovely gifts are topped with a smooth sauce piqaunte. This spicy and flavorful roux based sauce is usually served rustic style but by blending it all those flavors come together and make a smooth sauce that compliments all types of grain and pasta wonderfully. Enjoy these little presents and remember to save that extra sauce. You will want to eat it over and over again.