On Adapting and Slow Cooked Ragu

Sometimes, all you want is a nostalgic, sentimental, fragrant meal. A familiar one, one that makes the house smell of sauteed onions and garlic, pasta with the perfect sauce. Over the past few weeks, that dish I’ve been craving, the one that’s been on my to-do list, is a slow-cooked beef ragu. That yearning came in remembering a distant dish I had in Marrakech over a year ago at a restaurant called Plus61… I could almost taste it; the pasta, obviously fresh, met with the ragu to practically melt in your mouth. A crucial brightness that saved the dish from the sweltering heat shone through in the form of peas and burrata. The place itself was all white, with light flooding in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and bouncing off our glasses to cast holy beams through the room; it’s like the more distant the memory gets, the more the image is warped into some idealistic form of heaven.

I think about that place a lot; I think about that dish a lot.

 

So, I set off to make something like it and went to the butcher in my small town on the coast of the North Sea in search of chuck beef, to which the butcher said, “That’s an American term… but I can give you the equivalent.” As I watched him point to it, I knew deep down that it was not the right cut. “Thanks,” I said. Before I even turned on the heat, I screwed up. There’s always something to gain, though… It's a lesson on hesitation or confidence, I suppose. Always trust your gut, never doubt instinct. 

I seared the beef, I began the sauce, I brought it to a boil, then down to a simmer, started a two-hour timer, and sat down for some wine and cheese. Something in me knew it was wrong. The house wasn’t enveloped in the aroma I had aimed for; the hour was getting late, and the meat was tough. The whole scene was off all because of this faulty cut of beef. 

Panic. Calm. Tesco. Lamb shoulder?

10:30 PM, take two. Excavate the cardboard beef and put it in a tupperware for the cats you are housesitting and place the sauce on low heat on the back burner. Sear the lamb shoulder, flip it over, perfect marble… two hours into my escapades, the house finally began to take that quintessential home-cooked smell. In went the lamb to the already simmered sauce, and reborn was the initial two-hour timer, 11 pm.

Adaptivity is vital. Panic solves nothing. Shit happens. Two hours later, with the shredding of the lamb off the bone and back into the pot for another hour of simmering, joined by the pasta boiled in the sauce, my kitchen was a delirious state of heaven, sort of like the memory of that distant place in Marrakech.

4 a.m., in bed with my bowl of pasta. 

Recipe

Ingredients 

• 1.2 kilos of what the UK butcher tells you is the equivalent of chuck beef but looks like sirloin*

• Olive oil 

• 5 cloves garlic, minced

• 1 white onion, diced

• 1 cup carrots, diced

• 1 cup celery, diced

• Two cans tomatoes, crushed 

• Whole tube of nice tomato paste 

• 2 beef stock cubes 

• 1 ½ cup full bodied red wine

• 1 ½ - 2 cups water 

• A bunch of fresh herbs, i.e., thyme, basil, oregano (or 2 tbsp Italian seasoning)

• 4 dried bay leaves 

• Dash Worcestershire 

• A large lamb shoulder 

• Orecchiette or any fresh pasta 

• Parmigiano regianno, finely grated 

• Fresh parsley  

Procedure 

• Pat dry the beef and season with salt and pepper. Add oil to a large dutch oven, heat on high heat, and sear the beef on all sides. Move to plate. 

  • If you’re smart, do this with the lamb instead to save roughly three hours of cooking time. 

• Reduce the heat to medium low and add garlic and onion, saute until fragrant, then add the carrots and celery. Saute slowly until just soft. 

• Add the remaining ingredients (up until the pasta), including the seared beef**. Bring to a boil, then down to a simmer on low, and cover for an hour and a half. At this point, you will realize the beef is too tough. Remove the beef from the sauce and replace it with a similarly seared lamb shoulder. 

• The lamb should be in the sauce, covered, and on a low simmer for at least an hour and a half to two hours or until it reaches internal temp. 

• Remove the lamb and shred it with two forks from the bone into fine pieces. Return to the sauce and simmer at medium for 30-45 minutes. The lamb will get incredibly tender at this step. 

• Once reduced nicely, add the pasta to cook in the sauce. Grate in some fresh parmigiano regianno. Simmer until pasta is cooked, about 15-20 minutes, adding water if really necessary but maintaining a thick sauce. Adjust for seasoning and add sugar if it is too bitter (S&P).  

• Plate topped with copious amounts of grated parmesan and chopped parsley. 

*not necessary 

**feel free to skip this part and use a lamb shoulder right off the bat