Bad Teeth and Lousy Food: Vivat Membrum Quodlibet

It didn't start auspiciously. For my first year at university I stayed on campus, in a hall of residence consisting of three houses, which were segregated by sex. No, not "male", "female" and "other"; two of the houses were for men, one for women. Each “floor” of my house accommodated twelve spotty, unwashed, drunken slobs fine young men, and I was the last of the twelve to arrive so I found myself unpacking my paltry teenage possessions alone in an entirely unoccupied floor. I later discovered that the other new residents had arrived early in the day, unpacked, introduced themselves and promptly gone down the pub, clearly intending to start their student days on the right foot. So, the first day of my  much-anticipated new life was spent alone, feeling a little bit intimidated and a little bit depressed. I have a very distinct memory of that evening and of a shy, nervous young man standing alone in the "parlour" of a silent and deserted floor, preparing his dinner over one of the electric hot plates available for the purpose. And what comforting repast was he making? Heinz canned ravioli on toast, that's what. Like I said: it didn't start auspiciously.

Later (much later) that night, I was awoken by a cacophony of drunken yells, bangs, crashes and - quick workers, some of these boys - raucous female giggling. Soon, the banging was occurring directly on my door and the yelling involved strident demands that the "mystery man" make himself known to his floormates. I was in no mood for it so I pulled the single pillow over my head and tried to ignore the din until it finally subsided at around 4:00 am. I began to suspect I'd made a dreadful mistake in attempting to buck my family and class norms by going to university. I was wrong, of course. The following morning I leapt out of bed, marched into the parlour and endeared myself to my hugely hung-over fellow inmates with a loud greeting of , "GOOD MORNING, YOU NOISY B!*@#&*S! I'M THE 'MYSTERY MAN', BUT YOU CAN CALL ME JACK!" Unsurprisingly, they proceeded to call me a variety of rather more colourful names. Once the wincing and swearing had subsided we soon completed the formalities in a more civilised manner and all was well. I was welcomed into the fold and before long became one of the regular 4:00 am noisy parlour drunks, and my anxieties and fears were washed away on a sea of cheap student union beer. Thirty pence a pint! Is it any wonder I spent the next three years in a happy alcoholic haze? Besides, you need to be drunk to understand quantum mechanics. Or at least to think you do.

Now what does any of this have to do with food, you ask? Not a thing. Heinz canned ravioli certainly has nothing whatsoever to do with food. So let me get to the point of this episode: my introduction to a couple of then-unfamiliar dishes and what a revelation they proved to be to my ignorant, impoverished taste buds. These were curry (Indian style) and Spaghetti Bolognese. That's right, I said Spaghetti Bolognese. I was 18 years old and I had never had Spaghetti Bolognese in my life. I had heard of it, but to be perfectly honest I had no idea what it was. Of course, I knew what spaghetti was – it was that soft, pulpy, sauce-drenched stuff that came in cans – but I had no clue what a "Bolognese" might be. It might have been a cut of meat or a type of cheese for all I knew. Yes, I really was that much of a culinary ignoramus.

I'm going to talk solely about the Bolognese because the dizzying wonder of the Anglo-Indian curry deserves, and will receive, an entry of its own at some future date. For now, suffice to say that the first real Indian curry I tried hit me like drugs. It was like seeing colour television for the first time. It made me realise that my palate had basically been a virgin and was now, thanks to these astonishing aromatic spices and explosive flavours, in danger of becoming a total trollop. I apologise for those dubious metaphors but that plate of chicken madras was probably the first time I understood that eating could inflame the senses in a very similar way to... certain other activities.  Ahem.  As I said, that's a subject for another time, so let's get back to the Bolognese. Try not to roll your eyes: believe me, for many British people of my generation and background this tired old staple represented our first exposure to "foreign" food.

What is Bolognese sauce, anyway? Well, what I know now is that just about the only ingredients most people can agree on are meat and tomatoes. A quick scan of various web sources confirms my view that many people mistakenly believe that “authentic” Bolognese sauce is heavy on the tomatoes: it isn’t.  The Wikipedia entry for it has this to say:

The recipe issued in 1982 by the Bolognese delegation of Accademia Italiana della Cucina confines the ingredients to beef, pancetta, onions, carrots, celery, tomato paste, meat broth, white wine, and milk. However, different recipes, far from the Bolognese tradition, make use of chopped pork, chicken or goose liver along with the beef or veal for variety, or use butter with olive oil. Prosciutto, mortadella, or porcini fresh mushrooms may be added to the soffritto to enrich the sauce.

Goose liver? Blimey! I’ve certainly seen versions with carrots and celery although personally I don’t favour those ingredients because they make things seem a little too beef stewy for my taste. The “Bolognese” sauce I make to this day is based on the version I learned all those years ago back in Leeds University, and I have my first serious girlfriend Cathy to thank for it. It uses ground beef, canned tomatoes, onions, garlic and mushrooms as the primary ingredients, and features a certain secret ingredient – HP Sauce - which I used to be ashamed of until I read that Heston Blumenthal’s version features Worcester Sauce and Nam pla. Now I feel vindicated!

The only truly shameful “old school Brit” ingredient featured in the original university-era version (which I swiftly dropped) was Bisto gravy powder. That was entirely unnecessary, added nothing to the dish, and was clearly included only out of a sort of atavistic British incredulity when faced with the radical notion that a beef sauce does not have to taste at least a little bit like gravy. Honestly, what were we thinking in those days?

Enough preamble. This is how I make it now, and in spite of its lack of "authenticity" (it’s pretty heavy on the tomato) it’s tasty and satisfying and, most important of all, Ann likes it.

Spaghetti Bolognesish

Serves 2

10 oz ground beef
6-8 oz mushrooms (Crimini or Chestnut are nice), sliced
1 large onion, chopped
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (15oz) peeled plum tomatoes
1 tsp mixed dried herbs, Italian seasoning, whatever you call it in your neighbourhood
Salt and black pepper to taste
1-2 tsp HP Sauce, Worcester Sauce or similar brown sauce
1-2 tsp tomato paste

Heat some olive oil in a large frying pan. When it's good and hot, fry the onion until almost softened, then throw in the mushrooms and garlic. Keep it stirring until the mushrooms are looking almost done then add the beef, break it up and stir it around until it's just browned through. Add the tomatoes, tomato paste, brown sauce and herbs. Turn the heat down low. Break up the tomatoes with your spoon and get everything nicely mixed. Add your salt and pepper. Let it simmer for as long as you like (within reason) or at least until your pasta's done. Serve it forth. Sprinkle parmesan. Don't tell anyone you put HP sauce in it, for God's sake; I am not Heston Blumenthal and neither are you. Unless you are, in which case, hi Heston! Any chance of a reservation at The Fat Duck in the second week of February? Go on mate, I gave you a namecheck!

(Previously) Bad Teeth and Lousy Food: Sweet Treat

(Next) Bad Teeth and Lousy Food: Eating Out

Comments

[Manggy]

"Soon, the banging was occurring directly on my door.."
Goodness, I had to do a double-take on that line. I am filthy.

I've heard of HP sauce but haven't seen it-- isn't it more like A1 steak sauce than Worcestershire sauce? Am I getting my branded sauces mixed up? Regardless, that picture does look incredibly tasty :)

[Sophie]

I love this post! And now I know a little bit too much about you...
But still, don't forget this was one of my favorite meals! Darn vegetarianism.

[Tracy]

I just stumbled upon your blog and really enjoyed your story. You're a good writer. That bolognese doesn't look very bolognese-y but no matter.

[Jack]

Manggy - yeah, the possibility of misinterpretation did occur to me but I thought, "no one will have that dirty a mind here." Wrong!

HP is more like A1 than Worcestershire, yes. But that works too.

Sophie - too much? I'd better tone down future episodes then. I'll get the blue pencil out... :-)

Tracy - Thanks! You're right, it doesn't look Bolognesey. That's why I called it "Spaghetti Bolognesish"!

[Zenchef]

Thank you for pointing out why i wasn't good in science and math. I wasn't drunk enough!
Damn if only i knew back then...

[french tart]

Manggy, I have a bottle of HP sauce in the fridge, and i think i may have found it at Whole Foods, but there may be cheaper places in the US to find it. i put it on a lot of things - and my mom would be appalled (she's 100% French).

damn good on eggs, and baked potato. looking forward to trying it with this recipe, Jack!