Yesterday, whilst making caponata in the kitchen at work, one of the chef’s turned to me and said,
‘you know what, whenever I cook Italian food, I feel happy. I just can’t help it,'
I’m not sure that I agree 100%. Throwing a pizza in the oven at 4pm after an epic hangover never feels particularly joyful to me, but I guess that isn’t really the sort of cooking he was talking about. I love eating Italian food, and I love cooking Italian food. Big flavours, lots of tomatoes, cheese, fresh vegetables, garlic, fresh seafood, cheese, carbohydrate induced comas (everybody know that post pizza/pasta binge feeling), cheese. It’s one of the most accessible cuisines I can think of, and I don’t know what I would do if I could never eat lasagne again. Speaking of which, this evening I made possibly the best lasagne in the world (yep, I actually just said that).
Now, I am usually of the opinion that most things can be done better by professionals, I have never actually tried all of the lasagnes ever made, and most importantly, I have never been to Italy (it’s on the list), but you will just have to take my word for it. It. Was. Awesome. The pasta I used was good quality dried lasagne sheets (nothing wrong with dried pasta, fresh probably would have been better but give me a break, it’s a Sunday, and no matter what Jamie Oliver says about pasta being quick and easy to make, speaking from experience I can tell you that it is not). The béchamel was reasonably basic (although I did infuse my milk which is a step further than I normally go). But the ragu was most certainly the Michael to the béchamel and pasta other four Jackson five members (it’s a bit of a tenuous comparison, but I think you can work out what I’m trying to say).
This ragu was the pinnacle of about eight years of dedicated research (it’s a bloody good job that Diesel likes spaghetti bolognaise as much as I do) and many (mostly very good) attempts. There is so much more to a good ragu (bolognaise sauce if you're British) than Dolmeo and beef mince. I am strongly of the opinion that if you think it’s a good idea to make bolognaise with a jar of sauce and some cheap mince, you might as well give up before you open the door of the cupboard. What’s the point? For the money and the time, do yourself a favour and buy a hot baguette, some vignotte and an apple. My quest for the perfect ragu has turned into something of an obsession, and like I say, I think I’m just about there.
I’m not sure how many people will actually give this one a go, but if you do have a spare few hours, you could do a lot worse. Although before you reach for the pans, I should make you aware that you will never be able to enjoy anyone else’s bolognaise again. On the plus side, if you make a large batch, you can freeze it in portions, and you’ll have a few meals ready and waiting for you the next time you get back late from work/have people turn up for dinner when you’ve forgotten that you’ve invited them over. If you want a lasagne, you just have to make a béchamel sauce. If you want a sexy risotto, make a basic risotto and add the bolognaise. If you want a chilli, add a tin of kidney beans, a tin of baked beans and a good few glugs of Tabasco. If you want to be a total weirdo, eat it sandwiched between two slices of white bread like my brother.
Don't forget the parmesan!
Ragu
2 tins of good quality tomatoes
1 large white onion
2 sticks of celery
2 carrots
About 4 cloves of garlic
A few bay leaves
2 tablespoons of tomato puree
About half a bottle of drinkable red wine
Bacon lardons 500g
Best quality braising beef, cubed 500g. Ish.
Chicken livers 500g
3 or 4 pig cheeks (I make no apology for this. Go to the butchers)
Beef stock, about 500ml (one of those knor jellied stock things and some water is ok)
About 250g butter
Seasoning
Fresh flat leaf parsley
2 big tablespoons of tomato puree
1 teaspoon of sugar
Worcester sauce
Mushroom ketchup
Finely chop the carrot, onion and celery and grate the garlic into a heavy bottomed pan with about half the butter and a bit of olive oil, and soften really gently over avery low heat for about 45 minutes. Once ready, put to one side.
In a separate pan (preferably a casserole with a lid) fry off the lardons until crispy then take them out. In the same pan, fry off the beef and pig cheeks in the rendered out pork fat until nicely browned. This is where most people go wrong. It’s really important to actually brown the meat, so make sure the heat is right up. It’s the caramelisation that tastes good, which is why you always sear meats before cooking them (It’s nothing to do with sealing in the juices – nonsense). Put the lardons back in the pan with the beef and the cheeks, add the tomato puree and fry off for about a minute (lovely roasted tomato smells is what you’re looking for), then add your wine and the stock. Now, cover and stick in the oven at a low heat (about 120/gas 2) for about 5 hours. When you take it out, the meat should literally fall apart, so when it is cooled enough for you to do so, go through with your fingers and pull the meat apart so there are no lumps of meat left.
Trim the chicken livers, and fry in a hot pan with the rest of the butter until nicely browned (don’t overcook, you want them still pink in the middle). Tip the whole lot into a blender, blend, and then pass through a sieve. It should be a nice light pink colour.
Add the softened vegetables, the tins of tomatoes, seasoning, the liver puree, the bay leaves, a teaspoon of sugar, a splash of Worcester sauce and some mushroom ketchup if you have it, to the meat. Cover, and return to the oven for another couple of hours. If it starts to look dry, add some water. Drink a few glasses of red and eat with other people so you can show off. Good times.
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