A Burger to Adore

It may be that my brain begins eagerly anticipating the weekend, on Tuesday…

or, it could be that despite living in California, Memorial Day still signals a green light to fire up the grill more regularly. 

or, it could be that I'm just strange and food-obsessed.

For the past two weeks not a day has gone by that I have not thought about or talked about The Burger That Will Blow Your Mind.

It all started a couple weeks ago, innocently enough. 

Friends coming over for Memorial Day. 

My menu planning zigged (maybe an early French-y-Bastille-Day-inspired meal?) and zagged (a Southern feast, featuring ribs of some kind?) and then, yes,

they zig-zagged (what about ribs, with French flair?!  They exist!  Look for the Travers au Porc Caramel recipe in the totally awesome My Paris Kitchen from David Lebovitz.)  Until, I turned to Suzanne Goin, my hero, and the rock star chef at two of my LA restaurant favorites…Lucques and A.O.C.  Her book,

Sunday Suppers atLucques has a pork burger with slaw that stopped me in my tracks. 

The few times I’ve chosen to go with pork burgers on the grill have been simple affairs…take ground pork…season liberally with a couple glops of BBQ sauce…shape into patties and grill.  NBD.   Now, you may well choose to go that route when you want to change things up a bit, BUT I urge you to be bold and go the way of the restaurant chef!  Just this once!  I know I know…any excursion into cooking-from-a-restaurant-cookbook means extra steps, fancy ingredients and more often than not, LOADS of extra pots, pans and dishes.  (For me, it’s hard to restrain my bitterness at this inevitability.  THEY have dishwashers on staff for heavenssakes!  GAH!)  But, therein lies the secret.  That extra time and those additional  steps mean multiple layers of flavor that will give you The Best Burger Ever. Food 52 calls it “genius” and they’d be right.  I’d venture to call it a complete burger overhaul which will spoil you forever.

This burger is epic, people!  Built from a mixture of ground pork combined with a fragrant sauté of shallots, garlic and herbs, a dose of zippy Mexican chorizo and finely minced bacon, it’s a total flavor bomb of gigantic proportions. 

The stroke of genius for me though are the accoutrements.  In this case, a brioche hamburger bun, toasted on the grill, of course.  A slice of Manchego cheese on top.  Manchego.  Yes.  A sheep’s cheese from Spain.  (What did I tell you about those chef types and their recipes?!)  Don’t ask questions.  Just get yourself to a market with a proper cheese section and get some!  And, then the true brilliance…aioli and Romesco sauce in place of mayo and ketchup.  I know you’re cursing me right now, but I say ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’!  Know that you are building The Best Burger Ever, suck it up and KEEP GOING!  Because, wait…there’s more! 

You top this monumental burger with, but of course…The Best Slaw of All Time.

Called Rob’s Famous Slaw in the book, it’s a mix of  shredded green and red cabbage with some grated carrot, bound with a syrupy, vinegar reduction-enhanced (you know it…the extra step!)  mayo.  It is the perfect tart and tangy foil to the porky goodness of the burger. 

There you have it ladies and gentlemen.  Burger Nirvana from which there is no return.  Recruit your favorite dishwasher and do it!

Lucques Pork Burger with coleslaw

adapted from Sunday Suppers at Lucques 

serves 6

For the burgers

1 1/2 teaspoons cumin seeds
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for grilling
1/2 cup diced shallots
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 tablespoon thyme leaves
1 large pinch chili pepper flakes
2 lbs. ground pork
1/4 lb. fresh Mexican chorizo, casing removed
3 oz. apple-wood-smoked bacon, finely diced
2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley
6 slices Manchego cheese
6 brioche burger buns

Aioli and Romesco (in place of mayo and ketchup) + handful of arugula, for garnish

1.  In a medium saute pan, toast the cumin seeds over medium heat a few minutes, until the seeds are fragrant.  Pound the seeds in a mortar or spice grinder until coarsely ground.

2.  Return the pan to the stove and preheat over high heat for 1 minute.  Add the olive oil and shallots.  Turn the heat down to medium-low, and cook a few minutes, stirring once or twice, until the shallots start to soften.  Add the garlic, thyme, ground cum and chile flakes.  Season with 1/4 teaspoon salt and a few grindings of black pepper and cook 3-4 minutes, until the shallots become translucent and set aside to cool a bit.

3.  In a large mixing bowl, combine the ground pork, chorizo, bacon and shallot mixture with parsley being careful not to over mix the meat.  Season with 1 1/4 teaspoons salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.  Shape the meat into six patties.  Chill in the refrigerator if you're not grilling right away.

4.  Grill burgers 3-4 minutes per side.  Add cheese if using and continue grilling until pork is just cooked through.  Serve on toasted buns slathered with aioli, Romesco and garnished with some arugula leaves on top.  
Plate with side of coleslaw.



For the coleslaw

1/2 cup red wine vinegar
2 teaspoons honey
1/2 small head red cabbage, cored and thinly sliced
1/2 small head green cabbage, cored and thinly sliced
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
1 carrot, peeled and grated
1/2 cup mayonnaise
large pinch of cayenne pepper
2 tablespoons minced chives
1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

1.  In a small saucepan, reduce the vinegar by half over medium heat.  Cool 5 minutes and then stir in the honey until it dissolves.

2.  Combine the cabbages, onion, and carrot in a large bowl.   Pour the vinegar-honey mixture over the vegetables, and toss well to combine.  Season with salt and pepper to taste.  Let sit 15 minutes for flavors to meld, tossing occasionally.

3.  Add the mayonnaise, cayenne and herbs, tossing well.  Taste for seasoning.  
Serve alongside the pork burgers.

Let Them Eat Cake...on a weeknight

Let's talk about cake.
I don't like cake, said no one, ever, right?

When I was a kid, cake only made appearances for very special events... birthdays, weddings and the like. Everyday desserts were store bought, and they were usually some kind of packaged cookie. There was the classic pack of Archway oatmeal cookies, my father's favorite. (BO-ring.) Or a mixed selection of boxed “butter” cookies (and yes, the quotes mean I seriously doubt any butter came within a mile of these) that my brother and I would fight over and then ration in a very specific order...first the chocolate-vanilla pinwheels, followed by the shortbready spritz cookies topped with a tough, dehydrated blob of red jam, after which it didn't much matter what was there because now the “good” ones were gone.

Visits from my aunt usually included an eagerly awaited large box of Hostess Twinkies or Ho Ho's meaning my brother and I would perch at the window like two Pavlovian dogs, awaiting the arrival of our relations, only to bolt once said box of Twinkies was safely in hand. And right now, I have to think long and hard about what made the tubes of factory-processed yellow cake piped with sugary white frosting so great. I'm not entirely sure, so we'll chalk that one up to what was an evolving palate.

Actual home baking rarely happened at our house and, if my mother was in charge, convenience was fully embraced in the form of tubes of pre-made cookie dough, boxed cake mixes and pre-made frosting in small, round tubs.
I don't know that I really understood that one could make a cake or dessert from scratch until I was well into my teens and saw a friend of my mother's actually making a batter for a cake, from scratch. Like, with eggs and butter and sugar! Talk about a young mind being blown. Incidentally, this is the same person who told me she was making tomato soup one day and I was puzzled by her term “making”. Like, what's there to “make” with a tomato soup? Pick up can opener. Attach to can of Campbell's Tomato Soup. Open. There's no “making” tomato soup. Come to find out, you can “make” tomato soup ,and it's quite good!

Come to find out, one could “make” cookies... cakes... and all kinds of desserts from scratch with the added bonus that people were disproportionately impressed with you if you did!

Baking has never been my event though. It took a while, but I finally figured out that it had to do with my, ahem, imprecise nature. I'm not a big stickler for measurements, and in regular, savory cooking you can get away with a dash of this, or a splash of that...and follow it all up with a sip of wine. But bakers... sigh...they are sticklers for detail...the detail that makes up the complex chemical reactions which help souffles puff or cakes rise. So if you want success, you must be precise. Once I understood this, and applied it, my ratio of things-you-might- actually-want-to-consume to baking wreckage went way up.

So there's detail, and then there's process...and there is something very pleasing to me about the process part. Following the specific steps of a recipe can be very soothing at times. After we had to put Henry down, I was a walking, talking zombie. Going to work, apparently functioning, but draped in sadness that seemed to touch everything. My friend, C. suggested that I do some serious baking. The process: buttering pans, measuring, sifting, whisking...gave me refuge from the sad. Maybe it was the basic requirement to focus my mind on the task at hand that freed me from “thinking”? C. calls it “butter therapy” and for me it was an antidote for grief.

But the thing I love most about baking is the fragrance. It's hard to beat that cozy feeling that comes from the smell of a cake in the oven. I've read that the smell of baking cookies is often used by realtors when showing a home, so consider yourselves warned. People get all warm and fuzzy about things when the smell of chocolate chip cookies is wafting about. I know I do. And, really, to be honest, all I want in life right now is to enjoy the delicious fragrance of a cake baking in the oven on a weeknight. So, my life's mission has focused on finding a weeknight cake to do just that.

Home baking comes with varying levels of difficulty. And there will always be people who are drawn to recipes that are the Mt. Everest of baking. You know them...the show offs who are creating croissants or macarons at home. Let it be known: I am not one of these people. And, clearly, none of these items will make the cut in my quest for a weeknight cake. Neither will pie. Pie is not weeknight cake. Tortes are not weeknight cake. Nor are cookies.

Weeknight cake is all about ease. And simplicity. It needs to be something you can whip up in one bowl, pour in a pan and toss in an oven, so you can swiftly move to that delightful warm-and-fuzzy-cake- in-the-oven fragrance part.
Voila! Say hello to your new weeknight cake. Tested and approved, by yours truly.

This is the real deal, and it's called Raspberry Ricotta Cake.

From the current issue of Bon Appetit, the cake was featured in a photo that caught my eye initially. Raspberries? In a cake? But it's “winter”! Raspberries are sent to us from the southern hemisphere at this time of year. They travel great miles and (here's where I will go all locavore on you) I won't touch them. It's simply not their season, BUT, frozen raspberries or blackberries are another thing entirely! Easily obtainable at Trader Joe’s for a modest price, they're local, and actually quite good in a cake like this, where they add additional moisture to the surrounding cake batter. The cake batter itself is surprisingly ricotta- based, but don’t let that fool you into thinking this is some kind of icky cheesecake. The ricotta here gives this cake a beautiful rich texture making it easy to love with just a light dusting of powdered sugar. 


I could even see this being a big hit at a brunch, so let's not restrict it to just weeknights. It's a win-win for everyone!

So, let’s say it's a Wednesday night. Maybe you ordered some Thai takeout or brought home a pizza and are planning to catch up on the most recent episode of The Good Wife. Measure out your ingredients, carefully, and follow the instructions for a moment of zen. 

Sit back and let that golden smell of baking cake envelop you in a warm embrace.  And then, go ahead and enjoy a moment of smugness. It’s ok. That’s what comes with having baked a weeknight cake.

Raspberry Ricotta Cake
(adapted from Bon Appetit)
8 servings

1-2 tablespoons softened butter, for brushing the cake pan
1 1⁄2 cups all-purpose flour 1 cup sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder 3⁄4 teaspoons kosher salt
3 large eggs
1 1⁄2 cups ricotta
1⁄2 teaspoon vanilla
1⁄2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted
1 1⁄2 cups frozen raspberries or blackberries, divided

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Brush a 9” cake pan with softened butter and line with parchment paper round. Brush the parchment lightly with butter.

2. Whisk flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a large bowl.

3. Whisk eggs, ricotta and vanilla in a medium bowl until smooth. Fold into dry ingredients just until blended. Then, fold in melted butter, bollowed by half the raspberries, being careful not to crush the berries. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan. Scatter the remaining berries across the top.

4. Bake the cake until golden brown and a tester comes out clean, about 45 to 50 minutes. Start checking at 40 minutes. Let cool at least 20 minutes before unmolding.

Store cake up to two days, tightly wrapped at room temperature. 

Moving Pains

 It’s an immutable fact that moving sucks.  

Ask anyone.  Really…ANYONE, and they will confirm this.  

There's the stress over logistics:  how exactly will you transport your belongings from A to B?

Wrangle friends into helping you?  Hmm, how is it that everyone is going to be out of town that very same weekend?  Borrow your cousin's van?  Or, wow, maybe you're ready to be a true adult and actually pay for movers.    

Then there's the seemingly endless process of packing.  Putting everything you own into a box makes it seem as if your belongings have multiplied like rabbits.  Everywhere you turn there is a closet or enclosure full of things calling out to be packed and offering clear evidence to contradict your earlier, optimistic predictions that "we don't really have that much stuff".  

And don't get me started on the frantic, last minute items that remain, lurking, waiting to be discovered as the movers are carrying your possessions out....the crap under the kitchen sink or tucked into corners in the garage, or, strangely enough, an entire cabinet in the kitchen that was somehow missed.  

So, you get yourself transferred somehow, and teetering on the brink of exhaustion, you now have to buck up and start UNpacking.  There are the boxes you packed in the beginning of the process, and their meticulous, carefully wrapped contents.  Then, there are the frantic boxes.  Unlabeled and filled with odd assortments of items thrown into a box, any box.   The entire process is painfully messy and unsettling.  And yet, throughout this adventure, one has to eat, no?  

Sadly, the cookbooks have long been packed up, and there they stay until the bookcase situation can be sorted out.  The kitchen is like a foreign country.  You haven't quite mastered the local dialect and it feels like you need a map to navigate unfamiliar drawers and cabinets.  There's takeout for several days...and that's combined with sandwiches and cold prepared foods, but if you're like me, you can only take so much of that before you start craving a hot, home-cooked meal.  

This is where having an easy pasta recipe up your sleeve proves to be very handy for that first, hot-cooked-meal-in-your-new-home.  In the case of a move four years ago, that pasta recipe was cacio epepe, essentially a version of the favorite children's classic, spaghetti + butter + cheese = comfort.  But I like to think I am a continuously evolving human, and my move a few weeks ago had me craving a different Italian comfort classic:  pasta amatriciana.  Tomatoes, bacon (or pancetta) and hot pepper flakes.  What’s not to love?

Bacon and tomatoes genuinely like each other (case in point:  BLT) and in this case, a little zing provided by the pepper flakes makes things interesting.  As soon as I had unpacked the last pan, I got the sauce going and cooked up some spaghetti.  The smell of sizzling onions, garlic and bacon proved to be just the morale booster I needed.  Tumblers of wine were poured.   Packing paper was cleared off the table.  A hot meal was served.  Home at last.

Bucatini Amatriciana

(straight from Mario Batali)

serves 2

2-3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
6 oz thick-sliced bacon or a chunk of pancetta, roughly chopped
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced into half-moons
1 clove of garlic, sliced
pinch of red pepper flakes
1 cup canned chopped tomatoes
1/2 lb bucatini or spaghetti
Pecorino-Romano, freshly grated
Salt for the pasta water

1.  Bring a large pot of water to boil and add a couple teaspoons of salt.
2.  In a large saute pan over low heat combine the olive oil, bacon or pancetta, onion, garlic and pepper flakes.  Cook until the onion is softened and most of the bacon fat has rendered, about 12 minutes.
3.  Add the tomatoes and turn up the heat to bring the sauce up to a boil.  Lower the heat to simmer, and let bubble for 6 or 7 minutes.
4.  While the sauce is simmering, cook the pasta until very firm...about a minute less than the package directions and drain.
5.  Add the pasta to the simmering sauce and toss to coat for about a minute.  
6.  Serve in warmed pasta bowls with a shower of grated Pecorino.

Grill Friends

As we head into the peak summer grilling months, let's talk sides. So there's potato salad, of course.   Cole slaw...natch.  Baked beans, for sure.  And then, maybe corn-on-the-cob or a green-salad-that's-sure-to-be-ignored.

Sure there's all, or some of the above, and you could go all traditional and do the corn-on-the-cob thing, but that's because you don't yet know about corn pudding.  Yes, pudding.  Now, I never met a pudding I didn't like...sweet, savory...to paraphrase Cookie Monster, me LOVE pudding!

I became obsessed with corn pudding in particular after having it at regularly at our favorite rib joint, Redbones, in Somerville, Massachusetts.  I had never known of corn pudding, or, savory puddings in general, I guess, and their corn pudding was a revelation.   Beautifully souffle-like, yet wonderfully cheesy, with a kick of jalapeño.  Corn pudding perfection.  So, I searched high and low for a way to replicate it, as a Thanksgiving side dish actually, but the recipes I tried never made the cut.  Then, last summer, my beloved Food52 delivered the goods, with a pudding that is pitch perfect.  Airy and light, and packed with flavor, it's a winner.

So, with the Fourth coming up and summer corn at its peak...I'm thinking it's the perfect time to bust some new moves on the same old bbq sides.  Corn pudding.  Who knew? Now, you do.

My only adjustment to Lizthechef's recipe is the addition of minced jalapeño, or a couple shakes of Tabasco...call it an homage to the good old Redbones version I adored.


Spicy Corn Pudding
adapted from Lizthechef via Food52  
(serves 4)

2 tablespoons butter
2 cups fresh corn kernels, cut from the cob
4 scallions, white and light green parts, chopped
1 jalapeño, minced
3 large eggs
1 tablespoon honey
1 cup whole milk
1/3 cup grated sharp cheddar + 2 tablespoons for topping
couple fat pinches of salt and freshly ground pepper
4 large fresh basil leaves

1.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2.  Heat butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat.  Add the corn, scallions, and jalapeño and sauté for 3 minutes.  Remove from heat.

3.  In a large bowl, beat the eggs lightly; add flour, honey, milk, salt and pepper.

4.  Add corn-scallion-jalapeno mixture to the bowl + 1/3 cup of the grated cheese.  Mix well.

5.  Roll basil leaves into a cigar shape and slice into thin chiffonade.  Add to the corn mixture and stir.

6.  Pour mixture into a buttered glass or ceramic pie plate or a square baking dish.  Sprinkle with remaining 2 tablespoons of cheddar.

7.  Bake for 40 minutes, until puffed and golden.  Pudding must rest for 15 minutes after coming out of the oven.

 

Comfort

It's been a while, I know.  And I won't pretend.

I've been sad.  

The loss of our beloved black Lab, Henry, last year put me in state of 'just getting through' for a while.  You know.  You go about the business of your life because that's what you do, but it's with a heavy heart.  

The joys of food and drink and company feel muted because you are just seeking comfort...a respite from the sadness.  But in an inversely strange way, it also makes me feel grateful... for the kindness of friends, the everyday joy and companionship that our dear boy gave us, and the very awesomeness of his short, wonderful life.

The term "comfort food" really has taken on a fuller meaning as I've trudged through this time.  There's been a bit of a retreat from dreaming of fancy dishes I'd like to try to a simple craving for food that nourishes in a quiet way.  Which brings me to the uncomplicated solace of a bowl of porridge.  

I have rather unpleasant memories of the oatmeal my mother would make when I was a kid.  It was a gluey, bland mush of Quaker oats that just couldn't compete with a bowl of Captain Crunch.  The 80s brought the worship of All Things Oat, which I duly ignored since I wasn't obsessed with my cholesterol levels.  But then some time in the 90s I discovered steel-cut oats in a memorable Waldorf-Astoria room service breakfast for which I am eternally grateful.  So I've been a steel-cut oat fan ever since, but not long ago I came across an ingenious recipe for 'porridge', as the English like to call their breakfast oatmeal, that puts the oats I've been making for years to shame.  (Clouds parting.  Chorus singing.  Rays of sunshine.  Applause.)

Hard to believe it comes from a cookbook called,  A Girl and Her Pig.  (Yes, there is a photo of the author, chef April Bloomfield, on the cover, draped in a dead pig.  Calm down everyone.)  

April's way with porridge is extraordinarily simple and oh so comforting.  The beauty lies in cooking a mix of rolled oats with steel-cut in half milk and half water with a generous amount of Maldon salt.  The resulting chewy, creamy texture when topped with a drizzle of maple syrup elevates things to porridge nirvana.

So for those of you in the frigid, polar-vortex'd Midwest and snow battered East, this hot breakfast will fortify you like nothing else for your next round of shoveling and for those of us who are feeling a little fragile at times it's like breakfast, with a hug.  Some days that's just what you need.

Porridge 

adapted from A Girl and Her Pig, by April Bloomfield

(serves 4, if you're restrained, or 2 hearty appetites)

1 1/2 cups milk (April says whole milk, but I used 2%), plus a few splashes

1 1/2 teaspoons Maldon or another flaky sea salt

1/2 cup stell-cut oats

1/2 cup rolled oats (no instant or quick-cooking here, go with regular oats)

About 2 tablespoons brown sugar

A drizzle of maple syrup

1.  Combine the milk, water and salt in a medium saucepan and set over high heat.  As soon as the liquid comes to a gentle simmer, add both kinds of oats and lower the heat to medium to keep the oats at a steady simmer.  Stir frequently and check the heat to maintain the simmer, for 20 minutes.

2.  After the 20 minutes, turn off the heat and stir in the brown sugar.  

3.  Spoon into bowls and let sit for a minute.  Drizzle with a little maple syrup.  That's where I finish and get ready to dig in, but April suggests carefully pouring a little cold milk around the edge of each bowl for little more of custard feel as the porridge sets near the cold milk.  

       

A Classic

Since sharing the find of the year with you, I've been doing more thinking about 'the basics'.  Those reliable, go-to dishes that never fail to comfort, revive and bring a happy smile to your loved ones' faces.

If I were to make a list of my favorite basics, it would go something like this:

Chicken soup -- of course.  And if you know me, you know I border on fanatical in my devotion to this Cook's Illustrated method which yields a rich, golden broth that puts other chicken stocks to shame.

Cacio e pepe -- no doubt one of the all-time, most comforting pastas.  But as my friend K. points out...make sure your kitchen sponge is due for a change-out, because the pan clean up on this one is a destroyer.

Frittata -- my favorite weekday supper.  You just can't go wrong with eggs for dinner.

Meatloaf -- good meatloaf can make your day.  I have not blogged about this because in our house my husband is the meatloaf chef and he swears by an old Martha Stewart recipe that is absolute perfection. 

The Perfect Roast Chicken -- now you may think you have a good roast chicken recipe, but unless you are making the legendary Zuni Cafe roast chicken, you are most likely mistaken.  There is no better way to roast a chicken.  Period.  Lucky for you, that recipe is here.  Now go get a chicken!

An egg salad sandwich -- sigh...  on pumpernickel bread or a good rye.  Nothing better...or easier.  I've made some tweaks in my recipe since I posted on this, courtesy of one of my favorite local chefs, Tyler Florence, and his mother-in-law's potato salad recipe.  I now grate the hard-boiled eggs on a box grater, and the resulting egg salad's texture is absolutely heavenly.

and, last but not least, a decent Bolognese sauce.

I've spent years searching for a sublime, satisfying ragu, and not to get too philosophical...like many things in life, the search is an ongoing journey with many side roads, detours and failures.  My mother's attempts to pass off skillet-browned ground beef mixed with 'sloppy joe' seasoning (!) from a packet, mixed with a can of tomato sauce launched me on my journey...and dissatisfaction with what was often served up in restaurants in the guise of a Bolognese sauce just fueled the fire. 

I had a period of slavish devotion to Marcella Hazan's version.  There were brief flirtations with Gourmet magazine recipes and various restaurant cookbook takes on 'Sunday sauce'.   One thing is for sure...everybody has their own idea of what Bolognese sauce should be...and with so many variations  everybody is right. 

My own taste leans toward the region of Emilia-Romagna and the traditional Bolognese there...distinguished by the use of milk or cream.  Something about the long-simmered sauce becomes over-the-top luxurious when you add a bit of cream.  For several years, I've been very pleased with a Bolognese I found in a cookbook by Englishman (shocker, I know!) Nigel Slater. I've tweaked it a bit to add some character with dried porcini (truly, the 'secret ingredient'), and despite the 'at-least-three-hours-of-simmering' prescribed by most Italian nonnas (Nigel says one and a half hours) I usually go about two hours. 

Perfect for a winter Sunday afternoon when there are newspapers to be read and napping to be done.  The sauce is hearty and beefy and yet suave with its touch of cream.  (To my taste it becomes even more amazing as next day's leftovers...so you've got that going for you.)  Serve it over a fat, tube pasta like rigatoni or some fresh fettucini and add a generous grating of fresh Parmesan.  It's so perfect that for me, all searching for a Bolognese sauce has come to a halt.

Now, if I could just settle down with a good chocolate cake recipe...


Spaghetti Bolognese
adapted from Nigel Slater's the kitchen diaries

serves 4


2 tablespoons butter
chunk of pancetta, approx. 1/2 inch wide, diced into small cubes
a medium onion, finely chopped
2 fat cloves of garlic, minced
1 carrot, finely chopped
2 stalks celery, finely chopped
1/2 cup dried porcini mushrooms, soaked in boiling water for 10 minutes--reserving the soaking liquid
2 bay leaves
1 1/2 pounds ground beef
1 29 oz can crushed tomatoes
1 cup dry, red wine
3/4 cup low-sodium chicken stock
a few grindings of fresh nutmeg
1/2 cup (or less, to taste) heavy cream

To serve:
1 pound rigatoni
grated Parmesan

NOTES:  
The Pot -- I like to use my large, enameled cast-iron dutch oven for this -- it seems to hold heat well and control the simmer to a bare minimum which is important.  If you have a stainless stockpot you may have trouble keeping the simmer low enough, so in that case you should use a 'flame tamer' disk over your burner (available at hardware stores).

About the nutmeg...I actually do have whole nutmeg and I give it a few swipes along a microplane grater for this recipe.  The difference between freshly grated nutmeg and the stuff in a jar you've had for three years in your spice cabinet is HUGE.  Give it a go with whole nutmeg -- it really does add something magical.


1.  Set the dried porcini in a heatproof bowl and bring some water to a boil.  Pour the water over the mushrooms and let them steep while you cook the pancetta. 

2.  Melt the butter in a heavy pot over medium heat, then stir in the cubed pancetta and let it cook for 4-5 minutes -- you don't want it to color too much.

3.  Stir in/add finely chopped onion, celery, carrot and garlic to the pot with the pancetta.

4.  Drain the porcini mushrooms through a fine strainer  (I reserve the liquid and add a couple tablespoons to the pot with the wine, later.) and give them a rough chop.  Add to the vegetable/pancetta mixture in the pot.

5.  Tuck in the bay leaves and let the whole thing cook for ten minutes or so, stirring frequently.

6.  Turn up the heat to high and add the ground beef, breaking it up well with a fork or edge of a wooden spoon.  Let it cook for three to four minutes without stirring -- you want it to start browning.  When it starts to brown give it a good stir to turn the pieces and let it continue to color so there is no pink left.

7.  Mix in the the tomatoes, breaking them up a bit with the wooden spoon, red wine, stock, a tablespoon or two of the mushroom soaking liquid, a grating of nutmeg and some salt and pepper. (start with a teaspoon of salt and taste after a couple hours).  Let everything come to a boil and then turn the heat way down to low, so that everything just barely bubbles.  There should be movement, but one that is gentle and not quite a simmer.
Partially cover the pan wiht a lid and let it putter away for at least an hour and a half.  Stir from time to time and check the liquid levels.  You don't want it to be dry.

8.  After a couple hours, pour in the cream, a small amount at a time, stir, and continue cooking for another 20 minutes.  This is when I put the water on for the pasta.


9.  Check the seasoning, you may need a little more salt.  Serve over pasta and add a grating of Parmesan.


Pour a nice glass of red and enjoy.