One evening in a Trattoria...

I don’t know which forgotten room in my Memory Cathedral this dish had retreated to, but something opened a door, or remembered a combination and lo -there it was again, freshly in mind and suddenly much desired. Perhaps it was more commonly served in childhood winters? Perhaps it has something to do with the stillness, and the quiet of a Sunday evening? Perhaps it embodies a simplicity that is uncommon in a world of Machiavellian twists and turns?

It’s a simple little dish, but no less tasty for its rather basic nature. There is nothing here to surprise or confound, and the end result is utterly expected. Perhaps that is its appeal. Its preparation and consumption leave my mind free to dance off on other flights of fancy, confident that the meal will just work its warming, filling, savoury comfort-magic. The only conundrum is whether to serve it from-the-pot or whether to pop it in the oven with an indecent amount of cheese and let it become a decadence. That decision will be entirely informed by how the rest of my day plays out. If it remains simple and quiet, the dish will probably follow suit. If complications arise and I get a little agitato it may require further embellishment to balance whatever distresses have arisen. No matter what, it will be served with a crisp salad and colourful heirloom tomatoes. I like to see the raw version of the intensified flavours on the same plate. It’s just a thing.

I also like richness balanced with freshness, softness with crunch, and laughter through tears. The perfect dramatic arc is always a delicate balance of contrasts both on stage and plate.

Besides, while it cooks down and the sauce reduces into a glossy clinging caress with perfectly married flavours, I have time to play with words…and that’s always an outcome to be desired on a chilly grey Sunday afternoon. I also have time to imagine. A simple Trattoria for example in early autumn. We have been driving all day through landscapes of incredible beauty, made all the more so by the deciduous forests laced with autumn fire. The sun has been warm on our skin, but the breeze is brisk enough for comforting jumpers and boots. Cheeks are pink and eyes are twinkling. It is now late afternoon and tummies are rumbling. Down we curve through golden vineyards and stone villages as the gentle blue mists of evening start to kiss the curves of the valley.

In a stone room, gently lit we sip at a beautifully rounded vintage and enjoy the smells and sounds wafting from the small family kitchen. The menu is small, local and seasonal and we’re tingling with the anticipation of ingesting this moment and place in time.

A small, but beautifully curated plate of antipasto is served to just tickle our taste-buds and fire up neurological flavor pathways that will soon be flooded with richness.

These people understand time. We are left to our smiles and nibbles and sips. There is no hurry. As the daylight fades and shadows deepen, we are lulled into simplicity. The pasta is served steaming, glossy, rich and comforting. With it, sharp greens simply dressed and crusty bread for mopping up sauces. Enough wine is re-filled to complement, but not to overwhelm.

Faces and thoughts are soft and open. A fire crackles gently at the end of the room. Time stands still really. This. Just this.

It would be a little churlish of me not to share the recipe to compliment the musings. So here it is:

1.      The Flavour Base

1 large brown onion, finely diced

3 cloves garlic, finely diced

1 large carrot, finely diced

4 strips of bacon (or vege bacon), finely diced

1 heaped tsp celery salt

1 heaped tsp chilli flakes

1 heaped tsp ground sage

Saute in olive oil and a knob of butter until caramelized and fragrant. You can add whatever other veges take your fancy. In this case, I wanted the sweet pop of slightly browned corn kernels, and the textural crunch of some pine nuts.

2.      The Meaty Bit

1 kg mince (beef or vege)

2 cans crushed tomatoes

3 tbsp tomato paste

3 tbsp Worcestershire sauce

1 cup red wine

1 tbsp brown sugar

I tbsp balsamic vinegar

Brown your mince thoroughly then add the remaining ingredients.

3.      The reduction

250g pasta of choice (suggest twirls or shells...or both)

4 tbsp beef stock (or vege beef stock)

4 cups water

2 cups freshly chopped basil

2 tsp smoked salt

A big (really big) whack of roughly chopped fresh basil. Don't be shy here. Use heaps.

Bring to the boil and then allow to simmer (uncovered) for 30 minutes or until liquid is reduced by half. Either bake for another 30 minutes with cheese, or serve as is with grated cheese that melts into the top of your bowl. Depending on who you’re serving, you may like to add a little more chilli…I do ?? No need for massive servings. A modest portion eaten slowly and enjoyed immensely will satisfy.

After your meal, please enjoy something small and sweet. It should probably involve a very fine dark chocolate that melts in your mouth. My recommendation would be Mayan chilli-chocolate truffles, but you don't have to take my word for it...

And that ladies and gentlemen is winter comfort in a pot. Enjoy ??