14 Years Later, A Bolognese Recipe

I’ve been told by a good friend, and trustworthy cook, that my bolognese is the best that he has ever had. If you knew my 6’5” honest to a fault friend, you would know that these words are to be taken as a compliment of the highest order. He is tall, can fill a room with laughter or fear, is brutally candid and equally kind. There are many reasons to love him, including the fact that he almost always picks up the phone when I need his advice. Advice ranging from “I don’t know why we’re not sleeping together or why he said that?” to“How am I leaving NYC?!” or “How am I quitting my job, again?!” Too bad I never took the advice on men, but the last phone call we had about NY and work, I heeded his infinite wisdom.  

When we were on the phone, some weeks ago, before I left NY, we were catching up. Shooting the breeze about colonoscopies and the weekend. He said “We had dinner at a friend’s house. It was nice. He made bolognese. But it was no Tinamarie bolognese. I’ve yet to eat a bolognese that was that good ever again.” 

Now, you should also know that I made bolognese for him, his wife and friends on a very hungover, wintry, Sunday 14 years ago. It was the Sunday after Chris’ 30th birthday bash (now our livers couldn’t handle that kind of drinking). We left the house to take a walk and decide on what to make for dinner. Chris, Stef and I, stood on a street corner (somewhere between their house and Eastern Market) - slightly hungover from dance party antics the evening before - and discussed a dinner strategy. In the waiting, discussions, and underneath gray clouds, DC drizzle, and a haze of booze that haunted all of us, pizzas were almost ordered. But I recall not wanting pizzas to be ordered because it was a Sunday. I still remember the walk around Eastern Market, ordering the meat, grabbing the vegetables, cheese and wine. Chris and I walking in circles, side by side, as my mind bounced back and forth, running the bolognese recipe in my mind. The joy I experience when shopping to prepare a meal is palpable, it might be my favorite part of the whole experience; the preparation and procuring. Well, and, I suppose, like anyone who loves to cook - we enjoy watching the people we love overindulge in our food and ask for more.

Bolognese reminds me of childhood Sunday dinner and tables filled with happy faces, too much slurping and, also, a haze of booze - I mean wine. The recipe is a combination of experiments created through taste memory that eventually went well, resulting in a light bolognese that coats fresh pasta with tender meat and slow cooked love.

Here we are, 14 years later, I’ve unearthed the recipe to share it on Tina to Table.
Let there be meaty meals to come. And, please, don’t order pizza on a Sunday.  

Bolognese

Ingredients
2 T. extra-virgin olive oil
2 T. butter
3 carrots, finely diced or passed through the food processor, preferred
1 medium onion, finely diced or passed through the food processor, preferred
1 large ribs of celery, finely diced or passed through the food processor, preferred
2 cloves of garlic, minced
3 lbs. of mixed pork, veal & beef, same as used for meatballs
¼ lb. pancetta, diced
2 cans of tomato paste (without seasoning) or 1 x 28 oz can of crushed tomatoes (I prefer Scalfani), the latter will take a bit longer to cook and evaporate to make a tight/not soupy bolognese - I like both preparations
½ c. heavy cream or 1 c. of milk
1 c. dry white wine
Whole nutmeg
6 fresh basil leaves
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Salt & pepper to taste
Fresh pasta of your choice, I like Rana and Buitoni if I only have super market options nearby.

Method

-Put the oil, butter and pancetta in the pot and turn the heat on to medium. Cook and stir ofr 5 minutes until the fat has been rendered
-Add the chopped onion, celery and carrot. Cook for about 5 minutes, stirring vegetables to coat them well.
-Add the meat mixture, a large pinch of salt and a few grindings of pepper. Crumble the meat with a fork, stir well and cook until the meat has lost its raw pinkish color.
-Add the tomato paste to the mixture and stir to coat all of the ingredients, 5 minutes
-Add the wine to deglaze the pot, and let it simmer until it has evaporated completely
-Lower heat to a medium-low or low-low flame and add the cream or milk and basil leaves. Let it gently simmer, stirring frequently, until it has bubbled away completely. Add a tiny grating of nutmeg, and stir.
-Cook, uncovered, for 2-3 hours, stirring from time to time. While the sauce is cooking, it may begin to dry out as the fat separates from the meat. To keep it from sticking, add 1/2 cup of water whenever necessary. At the end, however, no water at all must be left and the fat must separate from the sauce. Taste and correct for salt.
-Toss with cooked drained pasta and serve with freshly grated parmigiano.