last meal meat sauce
Last fall I attended the Smithsonian Food History Weekend in Washington D.C.
Two of the panels focused on how we express our identity and culture through the food we cook, the ordinary meals that hit the table again and again. We each have our own personal dishes that represent who we are and where we came from - dishes we return to time and again to give us the comfort and joy of nostalgia. For me that dish is bolognese sauce, or just “meat sauce” as my mom called it growing up. She used to make it for me at least once a week, sometimes more. It wasn’t some family heirloom recipe passed down for generations, it wasn’t anything special really. She sautéed onion and garlic, browned ground beef, and then dumped in a jar of Newman’s marinara sauce and let the whole thing simmer before ladling it over freezer section four-cheese ravioli. It was the first thing I learned to cook for myself, and in college I used to make a big batch and keep it in Tupperware for the week ahead. This dish has evolved with me as I’ve grown and changed and learned. When my mom got into gardening, we decided to make the marinara sauce fresh with garden tomatoes. I learned which were best for sauce and which to leave out (hint: adding the green tomatoes will make your sauce brown and ugly). When Tom and I were living in France we used to make this at least once a week from scratch, simmering it slowly all day and pouring it over fresh pasta from the Italian market. And now we make our own pasta, first with the janky table attachment roller he got me for my 26th birthday, and now with the kitchen aid and pasta attachment we got as a wedding gift. I’ve added anchovy to the sauce after reading the Dining In cookbook by Alison Roman, butter based on Marcella Hazan's take, and fresh herbs from our little deck herb garden. It’s something that I can’t really write a recipe for, because it evolves and changes with my life and the seasons - canned San Marzanos in the winter, CSA tomatoes in the summer - but the point of it is still the same. It’s something that brings me back to the kitchen table at my childhood home, hair wet and body exhausted from swim practice, a big bowl of warm comfort alongside a tall glass of cold milk. It’s what I would pick for my last meal, the dish that brings me back to my childhood but also ties into my present, something that brings me ultimate comfort no matter what.
a loose guideline for last meal meat sauce
- 6-10 fresh roma tomatoes (diced, peeled if you're feeling fancy, oven-roasted if you're feeling extra) or 1 can of San Marzano peeled tomatoes
- 1/2 white onion, diced (an Italian friend once advised me that a whole onion is too much, and it turns out she was right)
- 1/2 stick (4 tbsp) butter
- 2-4 cloves minced garlic, depending on how much you like
- 2-4 anchovy fillets
- crushed red pepper flakes
- whatever herbs you have access to - favorites are fresh or dried basil, oregano, and thyme
- salt & pepper - to taste
- 1lb ground beef (grass-fed / organic / local when possible - support your farmers!)
In a large pot (I am a Le Creuset fanatic and will urge you to invest in a dutch oven) sautée the onion in the butter until translucent. Add the garlic, herbs, and anchovy and let them cook down for a couple minutes before adding the tomatoes. Season with salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes and bring to a boil before turning down to a simmer and letting it go until it tastes right - sometimes that means 30 minutes because you're hungry and anything tastes right, but ideally it should be 1-2 hours. Bonus points if you throw it in the oven a la Kenji Lopez and roast at 300 degrees for 2 hours. The meat part comes in at the end, when the sauce is nearly finished - brown some ground beef (ideally in a cast iron), season with salt & pepper, and throw it in to mingle with the marinara for 10 minutes or so. Pour this sauce over anything you want - boxed spaghetti, freshly handmade fettuccini, roasted eggplant, or just eat it with some crusty bread.