This was a hard week to be a perfectionist. A recovering one, as I like to say. My OCD and ADHD combo is hard to battle sometimes, but I’ve still had a positive and productive few days. I’ve been craving pasta, but didn’t have the motivation to make homemade dough. So I opted to make bucatini bolognese. Now that it’s getting colder I’m craving that familiar rich, slow-cooked meat sauce with al dente pasta, parmesan on top, and fresh basil.
Bucatini Bolognese
It’s a good problem to have. But I’ve been inundated with multiple painting commissions. It’s exciting to have people reach out and ask me to paint things that are meaningful to them. It’s an honor. But I’ve sacrificed a little bit of my mental and physical health in the process. As I’m writing this I’ve spent about 10 hours in the past day painting, fighting with paintings, and trying to paint over paintings. You could say I had ‘art block’. But last night after a frustrating session I decided to clean my entire palette. Redo the blobs of colors. And I challenged myself to pivot and paint my bucatini bolognese instead.
I felt a little selfish focusing on my own painting and not prioritizing my commissions. But after staring at a man’s face for hours I couldn’t seem to figure out how to fix it anymore. It felt like I had forgotten how to paint. And my palette was a complete muddy disaster. So after it was clean I spent the night listening to podcasts and blending yellows, reds, and greens. Thankfully I found my way back into the zone and I came up with a painting I’m very proud of. I still know how to paint! Phew.
Italian Guanciale
I decided to make bolognese at the beginning of the week. Well, it was between bolognese and cannelloni, which I still might make in a few weeks. Inspired by the pumpkin and potato puree I fell in love with in Italy years ago. I had been meaning to visit the butcher shop near where I work for a few days, and I had a $10 gift card to spend. So I put on my jean jacket and ventured out into the town on my lunch break. It was sunny and breezy and smelled like Maine autumn. I decided to buy guanciale, which is one of the most decadent Italian, fatty cuts of pork that makes for a really rich bolognese sauce. It’s perfect for carbonara.
The total came to just over $12, and the man working insisted that I leave without paying the rest after my gift card. I thanked him and then stopped by the health food store for a quick snack, which ended up being sour cream and onion chips and a loaf of rosemary focaccia for later. The man working said it was good luck to buy the focaccia. When I went back to work I sold my favorite sauté pan and certainly felt lucky as I searched downstairs for a new boxed one. It’s exhilarating and so exciting to talk nerdy kitchen stuff with people.
Fulfilling Interactions
I also waited on a mother and son. The son was about to attend a culinary program and she was buying him his first professional knife. I showed him our options, let him hold some, and felt a weird sense of de ja vu when I handed him his choice in a box. My brain couldn’t comprehend that I was not the teen boy falling in love with food for the first time. That I was the grown man working at the store that is just a blur in that hero’s journey. I related so much to him, and I felt emotional after they left. What an honor to play a part in something so special for someone with so much ahead to look forward to.
So I had a wonderful day. And then, in the last half hour of the shift, I made a mistake. Not one we couldn’t fix, and not one that my amazing manager would ever reprimand me for, but I felt guilty. Stupid. Embarrassed. This is where the battle with my perfectionism, the flare-up, started. I drove home partially elated after my beautiful day. We managed to do a great job after two employees called in sick. I felt touched when my coworker asked if she could invite me to her friend’s night some time. There was a woman from out of town who was so appreciative that I took the time to show her around the store.
Wrestling with Perfectionism
Yet I felt like a bad person. Or at least an incompetent employee. But working in a store is not my identity, nor my passion or purpose in life. Part of it is incredibly empowering and exciting and beautiful. But my mistake doesn’t matter. I reminded myself that there are many worse things I could feel guilty about. That there are murderers and rapists that are getting off Scott-free and politicians championing genocide and I’m just a small town artist in the middle of Maine. The world will not stop to gawk at my little mistakes, but I can’t get it out of my head.
I was able to relax a bit Saturday night before tackling my painting projects. But the flare up continued as I began to paint a custom portrait for a local magazine. I was honored to get the request. And excited to see my work in print. But I rushed it, painted too small, and sacrificed some details. I fought and fought and pushed and pulled and tried to bend the paint to my will but it was just too much. So I started to panic. I even stubbornly started over, much bigger, and rushed through, with an impatient and angry hand. Needless to say, it didn’t come out better.
Mixing and Painting
So I went back to my bucatini bolognese. Cleaned my palate. And found myself falling back in love with color mixing, blending, and stippling. I was completely exhausted by the time I went to bed. But I decided to just leave the custom portrait for another time. To put myself first. I ate my bucatini bolognese for lunch the next day and took a beautiful 70 degree walk. Which will certainly be the last one for a while. My mom has the week off and we plan to go on an adventure tomorrow. Shopping, or movies, or just TV and popcorn. The last farmers market is Thursday, and I’m glad she’ll be able to go with me.
The bolognese recipe I used is from Italy. Originally on a small piece of yellowed paper from a cooking class I took in Tuscany. The recipe was for lasagna bolognese. We made it as a group in our rented home one night, which took hours. The boys made the ragu, which required a lot of chopping, stirring, and patience. The girls made pasta dough and béchamel. We even had fresh nutmeg and beautiful Italian pancetta. It ended up being one of the most delicious and incredible things we ate on our trip. It literally left some of us speechless. So I thought of that day fondly while I chopped my onions, carrots, and celery.
Memories of Italy
It was Sunday. Grey sky, sweater on, with my favorite yellow dutch oven. I woke up late and started chopping vegetables with my Japanese knife. I fell into a peaceful rhythm and thought of the rigatoni bolognese from my favorite restaurant in college. It had extra carrots and a rich, meaty sauce with fresh shaved parmesan on top. I added a glug of olive oil to my pan and started cooking my diced guanciale from the butcher shop. My knife glided through it like butter. Quickly the house filled with a salty bacon scent and I stirred it with a wooden spoon. The vegetables were chopped. And I measured the ground beef and tomato sauce I picked up the day before.
The recipe, which I decided to spoon over bucatini, was just like the one we made in Italy. I added fresh basil from my garden. A pinch of salt. And before I knew it I was adding a half glass of white wine. It simmered away and I added tomato passata. Then I hoisted on the lid and let it bubble away for most of the afternoon. Other than an occasional stir, I had nothing else to do. So I took a walk, caught up on some TV, and came back to a dark red, rich bolognese sauce. All that was left to do was cook some boxed bucatini. And add a little milk to the sauce at the end.
Slow-Cooked Ragu
My bucatini bolognese was delightfully al dente. The sauce had simmered for so long and developed so much flavor. It smelled like a Sunday afternoon in an Italian grandma’s house and my fingers were still kissed with fresh basil. I twirled it all up on my fork and enjoyed a few bites before dinner. The sauce was rich and salty, sweet, meaty, and the carrots were still a little toothsome. I added a spoonful of parmesan on top which added a luxurious nuttiness. And to top it all off I scooped the last little bits of bolognese out of my dutch oven with rosemary focaccia. It was simple and perfect.
I have plenty of bucatini bolognese left to get me through the autumn. Just like proving to myself that I can still paint, I’m looking forward to going back to work and falling back in love with the rhythm of meeting customers. Talking pots and pans and popovers and chocolate cookie recipes. And I’ll be trying to enjoy the rest of the week by balancing fun time with diligent painting. Under my lamp light at my desk. Listening to podcasts. And eating bucatini bolognese. I hope this recipe inspires you to start delving into rich, warm Autumn foods. I can’t wait to make curries and soups and to slow down soon. Thanksgiving is just around the corner.
Thank you for reading! Be sure to check out my Etsy shop for 100’s of recipe cards and art prints. Use code THEFORKEDRING for 25% off. See you next week!
Bucatini Bolognese
Ingredients
- 150 g pancetta or guanciale
- 50 g white onion
- 50 g celery
- 50 g carrots
- 4 cloves garlic
- 2 tbsp olive oil
- 500 g ground beef 80% fat
- 3/4 cup white wine
- 500 g tomato passata
- 500 g boxed bucatini
- 2 tsp fresh basil
- 2 tbsp whole milk
- Salt and pepper to taste
- Parmesan for garnish
Instructions
- Chop guanciale and heat a dutch oven over medium heat. Sweat guanciale for 5-10 minutes until rendered and golden.
- Add chopped onion, celery, carrot, and diced garlic and stir to combine. Cook for 5-10 minutes until softened.
- Add ground beef and cook until browned, stirring to combine. Add wine and cook until evaporated.
- Add tomato passata and cover. Cook for 2 hours until thick, flavorful, and rich in color. After it’s cooked, add milk and season with salt and pepper to your taste.
- Heat a stock pot of water over medium-high heat. Salt water generously.
- Cook bucatini for 7-10 minutes (according to package directions for al dente) and plate.
- Top with bolognese sauce, fresh basil, and fresh parmesan.
Notes
- If you don’t have access to guanciale, I would recommend using pancetta or a smoked fatty bacon.
- I use 80% lean ground beef, but you can also grind your own meat. I would use chuck or short ribs for a luxurious touch.
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