my “authentic” bolognese
Of all the Italian recipes Americans bastardize, Bolognese is the one that seems to inspire the most contention in the comments section. That said, I get it. I have seen people call some truly horrifying things "Bolognese" when they objectively are not. (Whole30 bolognese was the most personally offensive: it has coconut milk and no butter, and yet somehow processed smoked bacon is totally fine? GTFO.)
I wanted to figure out why this was such an issue for people, and honestly, now I wish I hadn't. As if there's not enough needless disagreement among unqualified people in this country, what you find when you search "authentic bolognese" is a bunch of extremely self-righteous home cooks who went to Florence for a week once and therefore feel licensed to tell you that you have either too few or too many tomatoes, that your dairy product is wrong, that if you aren’t using chicken livers you aren’t really living, etc.
This is how you know bolognese is truly an Italian classic. There is no right way to make it, but someone will find something wrong with yours. Fortunately, the only true commonalities of “authentic” bolognese are pretty basic: beef and pork, no herbs, milk fat, tomato, and wine. After that, authenticity is a matter of interpretation. The bolognese you should be making is the one you LIKE the most.
After researching this topic, here’s what I learned about MY authentic bolognese:
I don’t mind chicken livers in other people’s sauce, but I am not emotionally equipped to put them in my own.
A lot of recipes don’t include garlic, but I like there to be garlic.
Some people leave big chunks of celery, carrots, and onions. To me, that makes it a soup. I prefer them to almost melt away into the sauce, nearly invisible.
Tomato puree gives a sliiiiiightly fuller texture that I like better than the paste-broth combo. I like a well-sauced pasta.
You can use white or red wine and it does not matter. I’ve done it with both. The photographed version is red. The difference is ever so slightly in the color and taste. You won’t regret either choice unless the wine is bad.
You can use either milk throughout the prep to "baste" the meat, or hit it with cream at the end. I ask: why not both? I love the silky texture of using milk to braise, but the cream at the end adds cling and luxury.
The other thing that also seems to inspire a lot of debate is the pasta shape. Having had "the famous bolognese" of whatever restaurant at like five different locations this year, here are my pasta shape pros and cons for your consideration.
Tagliatelle. Pro: lighter and more maneuverable than any other shape. Actually traditional in the Bologna region. Con: can sometimes suck unless you make it fresh and I don't.
Pappardelle. Pro: really satisfying to cut into, meaty and thick and chunky. Con: pasta-to-sauce ratio is easy to screw up.
Rigatoni: Pro: comes pre-built with a perfect hiding space for meat bits. Ridged for your pleasure. Sturdy and also fun to chew. Con: it takes up more space, so you can eat less of it before self-loathing settles in.
Paccheri: A double-wide rigatoni. Pro: large tube, large sauce-capturing vessel. Con: it breaks just by looking at it.
Spaghetti: it's a lie told to you by Olive Garden. “Spag Bol” is not my ideal mouthfeel.
And then there’s…
Malfadine: Cooked al dente, it’s like a long stretched out skinny lasagna noodle. You know what pairs great with lasagna? BOLOGNESE. That’s what I’ve used here. It’s very photogenic.
If you're going to start anywhere with your self-improvement, start with your bolognese. Do it next Sunday. Think of the Instagram story you'll get to post. Imagine the chef-y anecdotes you'll get to tell on your next date. Consider that your mom will be proud, Italian or not. And then freeze whatever's left because come February, it will be the best not-takeout you've ever had the privilege to defrost on the world's worst Monday night.
RECIPE
While there’s no definitively authentic bolognese, this is the one authentic to me: a rich, meaty ragu slow-braised on the stovetop with a little more tomato than is customary and a heavy pour of wine, with a splash of cream for silky richness.
Effortful time: 30 minutes
Total time: 4-5 hours
Serves: 8, freeze the rest! (makes about 12 cups; I use about 1 1/2 cups per serving)
YOU NEED
4 ounces pancetta, cubed
1 tbsp. olive oil
1 carrot
1 small onion
1 rib celery
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 lb ground chuck — at least 20% fat
1 lb ground pork
1 cup wine, white or red, dry in either case
1 28-oz can tomato puree or crushed tomatoes
2/3 cup whole milk
1/4 cup heavy cream
2/3 cup beef stock (I used better than bouillon)
1/2 tsp. salt
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Parmigiano reggiano, for serving
MAKE IT
Brown the pancetta. Heat a large dutch oven over medium heat. Add the oil, then pancetta. Cook until fat starts to render but before the pancetta begins to crisp, about 4-5 minutes.
Prep the vegetables. You have two options here: either VERY finely chop your carrots, celery, and onion, or blitz all three in the food processor (my preferred) on a chop setting. Lower the heat to medium-low.
Cook the vegetables. Add the carrot/onion/celery to the pancetta and stir, coating with the pan fat, until soft but not browning. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute more until very fragrant.
Brown the meat. Add the beef and pork; break up with a spoon or spatula. Cook until just no longer pink but not browned — you want this to braise and become silky, so the finer you can break it up now, the better. Spoon off any excess fat that collects. Deglaze with wine and reduce for about 5 minutes.
Build the bolognese and simmer low and slow. Pour in the tomatoes, beef broth, and milk. Partially cover to prevent splashing / too much evaporation. Bring to the laziest possible simmer, not the lowest setting but close to it on most stoves, for 4 hours more. Make sure to check it periodically and stir, continuing to break up the meat as much as possible. As much as I advocate for catching up on showering while letting something long-cook, you do need to make sure it's not too dry or burning into an impenetrable crust on the bottom of a Le Creuset. If too much liquid has boiled off, add a little more milk. (I’ve also added more wine. Either way works. It’s an art, not a science.)
Cook the pasta. Around the 4 hour mark, set salted water to boil for pasta. This sauce makes enough for 2 lbs of pasta. You can scale down accordingly; estimate about 1 1/2 cups for one 4 oz serving of pasta if you’re like me and like yours fully sauced. Cook it to 2 minutes shy of al dente.
Finish the sauce. Once you put the pasta in water, stir in heavy cream to the sauce. Turn your burner way down just to keep things warm while the pasta cooks. It will finish in the sauce. Season the finished sauce with salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste. The reason for doing this at the end is that long-cooked sauces tend to concentrate whatever salt you add originally.
Toss the pasta with sauce. Drain your pasta, saving a 1/4 cup of pasta water. Return to the pasta pot. Add ladles full of sauce to the pasta and fire up the heat to low. Splash in a small amount of pasta water (like a tbsp. at first) and gently stir until the sauce is glossy and clings completely to the pasta, and the pasta itself is al dente, about 2 minutes more.
Serve it up. Serve in shallow bowls and shower in a fresh grating of too much Parmigiano.