Toil and Trouble

Ragu Bolognese! It took forever, probably because I followed a recipe. 

I began by transforming pancetta and garlic into a smooth paste. Because I live in the modern world I used a food processor. I fried the paste in butter (!) until the fat was rendered and the metamorphosis complete. I chopped the Holy Trinity (celery, onion, and carrot) gloriously fine, and added that mishmash to the cauldron*. Damn, my friends - I was cookin'! I was turning base materials into gold.

When the veggie/fat seemed utterly transfigured, I plopped in a pound each of ground beef and pork. Fifteen minutes of chanting** browned the meat evenly. I imposed my will with a wooden spoon, chopping and hacking to break it into small pieces. 

I added wine, a pinch of nutmeg, salt, and whole milk. Well, I didn't actually have whole milk, so I used my fearsome powers to turn half and half and a little skim milk into whole. Don't judge me. For a few uncanny moments I feared I didn't have nutmeg. After ransacking the spice rack, I found it. Or maybe I materialized it? Who knows?

Meanwhile, on the other side of the stove I heated stock into which I dissolved tomato paste and puree. I folded the red liquid into the meat, bringing the heat up until it bubbled and spit. I covered the pot, lowered the heat, and simmered the whole mess for a few hours. I degreased the sauce once even though the recipe didn't ask me to. I just had to. 

Before serving, I melted in two more tablespoons of the Philosopher's stone*** and added 20 turns of ground pepper. That's what the recipe asked for, 20 turns. I obeyed.  

*pot

**swearing 

***butter