Winter Sausage Ragu

Wherever in the world you might be reading this from, at this point in the year there's a fairly good chance it's getting colder (unless you're one of those dastardly Aussies). If you happen to be in the UK like myself, then it's getting dark, cold and wet - none of which make you want to go outside much, and it certainly doesn't inspire you to eat lots of salad. So with that in mind, a few nights ago I decided to improvise a nice, warming pasta ragu for a quiet night in with the missus. It may not sound like rock n'roll, but sometimes that's not what you're looking for.

One thing that I have learned over the past couple of years of cooking regularly is that I like my recipes to have a decent margin of error. It's pretty rare that I get something absolutely spot-on the first time, so I'm always relieved if I can screw a few things up and still get a decent meal out of it. Over time you then learn the nuances of a dish, you stop measuring things exactly, and you know what to look out for in terms of success or failure. What this has done, in turn, is give me the experience and the confidence to try different approaches to a single recipe (within reason), and feel entirely content to grab an armful of stuff from the fridge and figure things out on the fly. Some people seem to think that there's some dark art to cooking, that it's an ancient skill taught by ninja monks to gifted children. While that would be awesome, it's really nothing more than practice, attention to detail, and a passion for food. There's no enigma code behind it. In fact, sometimes all you need is one great ingredient, and the rest of the pieces will just fall into place around it.

In the case of this winter ragu, that particular ingredient is italian salsiccia. I first came across these little beauties probably around ten years ago, when my family first visited Umbria, in southern Italy. Umbria is southeast of Tuscany, and a bit more rustic but with a fraction of the English people. According to my Italian friends, Umbrians are also a much friendlier and nicer breed than Tuscans, although if you saw Tony Blair and David Cameron in your neighbourhood every summer you'd have every right to be a bit miffed. It is a sun-drenched oasis in the heart of Italy, sat right inbetween Rome and Florence, and an absolute goldmine of great ingredients. I'm sure this is widely applicable to most of southern Italy - they may not have an economy or functioning infrastructure, but my god the food is good. So after my last visit, I brought a pack of these beauties back from Italy and kept them in the freezer for a rainy day. This recipe is precisely the sort of rainy day opportunity that this kind of ingredient lives for.

Putting the world's wrongs to right.

Now obviously I'm using sausages from Italy here. Thankfully the abundance of good butchers in London now means that you can find great sausages without too much trouble, italian or otherwise. The key is to get a really meaty, strongly seasoned sausage, preferably with italian flavours. Avoid supermarket sausages like the plague, they are far too watery and bready for this type of sauce and lack any real depth of flavour. If you're in London, then you really can't go wrong with sausages from The Ginger Pig in Marylebone or Borough Market. The rest of the ingredients are easy to get anywhere, but the sausages are absolutely key. The peppers are an extra little touch that I find adds a really subtle sweetness to the sauce, and they basically liquefy by the time the whole thing's done. Personally, I choose fusilli because its swirly ridges are perfect for scooping up all the lovely ragu, but you can use anything you prefer.

Hearty Winter Sausage Ragu
Serves 4

Ingredients:
6 Italian sausages (preferably from a butchers)
70g pancetta or guanciale
2 Romano peppers
750ml Passata
500ml Chicken stock
1 glass red wine
1 pint of milk
1 red onion
3 cloves of garlic
2 teaspoons of diced chilli/chilli flakes
A pinch of ground nutmeg
500g fusilli pasta
One big saucepot
One decent pan/skillet

Start off by removing the skins of the sausages, cut the peppers into small slices, and finely dice the red onion.

Put a heavy pan on medium heat, add a little bit of olive oil and let it get pretty hot. Chuck in the sausage meat and break it up with a wooden spoon, keeping it moving. You want the meat to sizzle, so keep the heat high and do not overcrowd the pan. If the sizzling noises stop, adjust the heat to stop the meat stewing. Once the meat is nicely browned, remove with a spatula/slotted spoon and put into the big empty pot you'll use for the sauce. Now in the first pan, throw in the pancetta and cook until the fat has started to render and the pancetta is crisping up. Remove the pancetta and throw into the saucepot with the sausage. The pan should now have a whole load of lovely oil and fat in there, so heat it again and now add the garlic, red onion and chilli flakes. Saute them until the onions are nice and soft. You can throw the peppers in here as well if you wish, or cook them separately.

Once everything's properly sauteed, chuck it in with the meat. Now add a cup or so of milk, so that it covers the meat. Bring the pot to a simmer, and reduce the milk until nearly all of the liquid has evaporated. Add a pinch of nutmeg, and then the red wine. Again, simmer until the red wine has nearly all evaporated.

Pour in the chicken stock and the passata. Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce to the lowest heat possible and leave uncovered for 3 hours. The sauce should be very lightly bubbling, and not spitting sauce everywhere (if it does then it's too hot). It's worth checking on it every 30-45 minutes, as the oil will start to separate at the top so just mix it back together. Absolutely avoid seasoning it until it's finished, as the reduction will amplify any seasoning dramatically. After a couple of hours the sauce will be thicker, and take on a really lustrous golden red colour. Check the sauce, and adjust seasoning accordingly - salt and pepper if it's a bit lacking, or sugar if it's a bit too sour.

At this stage you can either portion off some sauce to keep in the freezer, or go to town and use the whole thing. If you're eating now (and you certainly should), get your pasta cooked according to the instructions - I always cook pasta for a minute or so less than instructed, you'll see why below. Once it's cooked, always keep a cup of the cooking water just in case, this can be very handy.

Take a couple of ladles of ragu per person and heat in a separate saucepot (unless the pot you cooked the sauce in is particularly large). Throw the pasta into the pot and mix it in with the sauce until everything is properly coated. If it gets too thick, use some of the reserved cooking water to loosen things up a bit. Pop the pasta into bowls and generously cover with shaved parmesan. Eat immediately!