The love for a perfect meat sauce, that is
It always starts so innocently and so full of hope. Promises whispered carelessly, kindling a fire that has burned quietly and passionately since its embers were first sparked so many years ago. The mere mention of tender, supple pasta being lovingly embraced by rich, tomatoey, meat sauce will inevitably, and immediately overwhelm my senses with bristling expectation.
But far too often, my beloved meat sauce has betrayed me. This betrayal is rarely a simple matter of taste; even craft-store-clearance-table-come-to-life Sandra Lee can cobble together a reasonable facsimile of basic meat sauce flavors. The betrayal that repeatedly dashes my hopes of a rich, pasta-cuddling sauce is one of depth and texture.
A proper tomato-based meat sauce* should form a close, loving bond with its chosen pasta. Watching a garnet red meat sauce slide impotently off a raised forkful of pasta is a tragic betrayal I would never wish on even my greatest enemy (I haven’t forgotten about you Guy Fieri). Meat sauce must always cling to the pasta—no excuses and no exceptions.
Along with the proper texture, the flavor should have depth and complexity. If a meat sauce isn’t given the love and attention it deserves, the flavor will remain flaccid and unsatisfying, never rising to its full potential—and that is sad; so very sad.
After years of trial, error and disappointment, I have perfected the perfect meat sauce recipe. It’s thick and rich with a silky texture that wraps it’s loving, meaty arms around whatever pasta it is paired with. Yes, it includes non-traditional ingredients like gelatin, fish sauce and bacon, but it’s the chicken livers that quietly and subtly turn this great meat sauce into the perfect meat sauce. Yes. Chicken livers.
Chicken livers may seem like a very unlikely ingredient for a meat sauce. Purée those chicken livers and they seem like an unlikely ingredient for anything other than catfish bait or an Eli Roth film. But done properly, they add depth, creaminess, and pasta-clinging body to the sauce without the livery taste (the liver flavor fades during cooking). To get the best out of your livers, buy the freshest you can find and soak them in milk overnight to draw out excess blood and tame the gaminess just a bit.
Stop squirming and try it—the livers will be our little secret.
*I’m avoiding the word “bolognese” to inoculate myself against an attack from filone di renella wielding members of L’Accademia italiana della cucina.
Ingredients
- 1 quart chicken stock
- 1 to 1 1/2 ounces powdered gelatin (4 to 6 packets)
- 1 (28-ounce) can peeled whole tomatoes
- ½ pound finely minced chicken livers
- ¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
- 1.5 pound ground chuck (about 20% fat)
- 1.5 pound ground pork shoulder (about 20% fat)
- Kosher salt and black pepper
- 4 tablespoons unsalted butter
- ½ pound finely diced bacon
- 1 large onion, finely minced
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- ¼ cup minced fresh oregano and basil
- ½ cup minced fresh parsley, divided
- 2 cups dry red wine
- 2 bay leaves
- ½ cup heavy cream
- 3 ounces grated Parmesan cheese
- 2 tablespoons fish sauce
- Pappardelle or tagliatelle pasta
Directions
Place stock in a medium bowl and sprinkle with gelatin. Set aside. Purée tomatoes until smooth. Set aside. Purée chicken livers in food processor or with immersion blender until smooth. Set aside.
Heat olive oil in a large, heavy bottomed pot over high heat until shimmering. Add ground beef and pork, season with salt and pepper, and cook (breaking up the meat as you go) until no longer pink. Remove from heat and stir in puréed chicken livers.
Meanwhile, cook bacon in a large skillet over medium-high heat until fat has mostly rendered. Add onion, celery, garlic, sage, half the parsley and cook until vegetables are soft but not browned, about 6 minutes.
Put the vegetable mixture into the pot with meat mixture, add wine and cook, stirring, until mostly evaporated. Add stock, tomatoes, and bay leaves. Season with salt and pepper.
Bring sauce to a simmer, then reduce the heat to low and cook (stirring occasionally) until liquid has almost completely reduced and sauce is rich and thick -about 3.
Carefully skim off all but ¼ to ½ cup of fat, then vigorously stir in heavy cream, Parmesan, fish sauce, and remaining parsley. Bring to a boil on stovetop, continuing to stir constantly. Fine tune the seasoning with salt and pepper if needed.
Serve over tagliatelle or pappardelle with a generous sprinkling of Grana Padano.