I decided to opt for a really good spaghetti sauce, pasta and salad for Sunday lunch. A sausage sizzle just would not cut it and I own Robbie’s cook book. How could I go wrong?
First, as Mrs Beaton says: “Get your best spaghetti sauce recipe.” (My mum’s maiden name is actually Beaton – but no relation to the original lady of “first catch your hare” as far as I know.)
“Mum, I am in serious trouble. Actually, it is Robbie who is in serious trouble!” “Why?” asked my Mum. “Because he died without writing his special sauce recipe in his cook book, that’s why! And I promised everyone Robbie’s spaghetti for lunch. You know how much Annette loved his ravioli – always two helpings and a doggie bag to go.”
So, I ran with plan B.
Plan B was a recipe from “The West Australian” TV magazine for an Italian ragu – which read like a dream sauce and I shopped to its specifics. Veal, pork, butter, white wine of drinking quality and Italian tomatoes, blended with the right herbs and condiments.
In all the good movies (from the Godfather to the Goodfellas) the making of spaghetti sauce is an art form and everyone has their own special trick – indeed as did Robbie, which I never learnt. Hours in the kitchen, grating, frying, simmering, stirring and adding at the right moments. In real life and in the movies, if there is anything that a man can do to keep women at home, it is to ask them to make ragu!
Let me tell you how Saturday went: Quick shop in Coles for the mince; sorry, all gone so I get some lean pork and lean veal and I chop it myself, very, very fine. Shred celery and carrots, dice onions superfine, and collect spices, liquids and parsley. Start frying – until all the liquid is evaporated. So far, so good. Add the milk; simmer until it is all evaporated. Going well. Add the wine; stir and simmer until it is all evaporated. Add the tomatoes (including liquid) and some water, simmer until it is you have a lovely thick sauce. Check the flavouring for final salt and sugar – then simmer on the lowest possible heat for two to three hours. Check the clock! It was half past eleven at night – more than five hours since I started shredding vegetables and another three hours of simmer still needed, at least. Turned everything off and left it for the morning. You can see what I mean about ragu keeping women in the kitchen!
Sunday morning was a breeze. Put the ragu on to simmer; made a fabulous tossed salad with shredded red cabbage and carrot, capsicum, mixed lettuce; cherry tomatoes; onion and olives; nicked off to Mt Helena for fresh bread rolls.
The dining room was very welcoming, with the table was set with dark red linen, raffia table mats and white plates, good cutlery and crystal glasses. The pasta took only a few minutes to cook, just before we were ready to eat. Jane brought a cheese platter and cake; Lisa and Warren had the dessert. The red wine was decanted and the champagne well chilled.
I rang my mum to tell her that I don’t need Robbie’s special Italian recipe; I have my own and it is excellent. And on any given Saturday when I have nothing else to do for the morning, afternoon or evening, I will do it again. She laughed at me!
The really special thing was the wonderful sense of having a Sunday family lunch again – it was our first one, since Robbie died.
I had to remember that he is not here, so if I didn’t do it (like cooking the pasta and heating the plates), it wouldn’t happen. No more swanning about, like a social hostess with him doing everything in the kitchen. So, for me it was not too much wine; keep an eye on the pasta; make sure everyone got enough to eat; remember to put the coffee on; relax and enjoy!
That was the first of many happy Sunday dinners – but no more ragu! I am far too idle for that.
