Marcella Hazan, in her inimitable fashion, offers the home cook an authentic Bolognese sauce recipe, the traditional kind an Italian grandmother would approve of, thank you very much.
This is my version of her recipe, found in her cookbook, Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, with very subtle tweaks. It takes a while to make, although most of the time the Bolognese is spent simmering, unattended, on the back burner except for occasionally making lazy eights with a wooden spoon.
☞ Read the Article: In Defense of Grandmother Cooking
Bolognese Sauce FAQs
In essence, Bolognese sauce is spaghetti sauce. Though it’s no ordinary meat sauce. It’s a long, slowly simmered sauce that’s richer and creamier than your everyday marinara due to the inclusion of milk. It also is less predominated by tomatoes than your typical marinara. It’s named for its city of origin, Bologna.
Believe it or not, traditional Bolognese contains none of the aromatic herbs or spices that many consider necessary in all Italian dishes. You may be tempted to add them, but do your best to resist. The nutmeg is a must – don’t leave that out.
Marcella Hazan’s Bolognese Sauce
Ingredients
- 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 8 tablespoons (4 oz) unsalted butter, divided
- 1 cup chopped onion
- 1 1/3 cups chopped celery
- 1 1/3 cups chopped carrot
- 1 pound ground chuck, (I used 1/2 pound chuck and 1/2 pound veal)
- 1/2 pound ground pork
- Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
- 2 cups whole milk
- 1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg, or a pinch of ground nutmeg
- 2 cups dry white wine
- 3 cups canned imported San Marzano tomatoes, (Italian plum tomatoes) with their juice
- As much pasta as you wish (Marcella prefers tagliatelle), cooked and drained
- Freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, at the table
Instructions
- In a heavy 5-quart Dutch oven over medium heat, warm the oil and 6 tablespoons butter until the butter melts and stops foaming. Toss in the onion and cook, stirring frequently, until the onion is softened and translucent, about ⏲ 5 minutes.
- Toss in the celery and carrot and cook, stirring to coat them with the oil and butter, for ⏲ 2 minutes.
- Add the chuck and pork, a very healthy pinch of salt, and a goodly amount of pepper. Crumble the meat with a wooden spoon and cook, stirring occasionally, until the meats have just lost their raw-red color.
- Reduce the heat to low. Pour in the milk and simmer gently, stirring frequently, until the liquid has completely evaporated, ⏲ about 1 hour.
- Stir in the nutmeg. Pour in the wine and gently simmer, stirring frequently, until it's evaporated, about ⏲ 1 1/4 hours more.
- Add the crushed tomatoes and stir well. When the sauce begins to bubble, turn down the heat so that the sauce cooks at the laziest of simmers with just an intermittent bubble breaking the surface.
- Cook, uncovered, for ⏲ 3 hours or more, stirring from time to time. While the sauce is burbling away, there's a chance that it'll start drying out. To keep the sauce from sticking to the bottom of the pot and scorching, add 1/2 cup water if necessary, just know that it's crucial that by the time the sauce has finished simmering, the water should be completely evaporated, and the fat should separate from the sauce.
- Taste a spoonful—or two—of sauce and season with salt and some good grindings of pepper to taste. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons butter to the hot pasta and toss with the sauce. Serve with freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano on the side.
Notes
What You Need To Know About Making The Most Classic Italian Bolognese
Following are some techniques and tricks to ensure the most classic Italian Bolognese:- The more marbled the meat, the sweeter the ragu. (The most desirable cut of meat is the neck portion of the chuck. You may have to special order it from your butcher.)
- It’s important to salt the meat as soon as it hits the pan. This draws out the juices and imparts flavor to the Bolognese.
- Use a heavy pot that will retain heat. I use my Le Creuset 5-quart Dutch oven. Avoid using cast-iron, as the acid can interact with the metal and turn the sauce a blech color.
Nutrition
Nutrition information is automatically calculated, so should only be used as an approximation.
Recipe Testers’ Reviews
This is the perfect recipe to make if you’re stuck in the house doing chores and can’t leave. A little prep work and a little stir every now and then gives you a wonderful smell throughout your house and a nice, thick sauce for your pasta. I love that there isn’t a strong tomato taste to this sauce, unlike most commercial jar sauces. This is pure, hearty, stick-to-your-ribs comfort food.
All you need is some warm bread and you have a meal. The next time I make it I’ll probably omit the oil, as I felt there was a little too much oil floating on top when it was ready to serve.
This is a fabulous recipe, which I’ve made a few dozen times both at home and in restaurants where I’ve worked. The only change I’ve ever incorporated is the addition of some chicken livers, which I mince so that my children don’t know that liver is part of the whole. Try it some time.
Mark, yes, chicken livers are a favorite addition, some say it’s the classic recipe. If I remember to pick them up, I add them. Gives some nice bass notes.
Hi David,
I would like to try adding chicken livers to this incredible recipe. At what point would you recommend adding the chicken livers?
Hey, Mark. Some people add them early in the cooking, but I think the flavor gets lost. I would add them the last 20 minutes of cooking. Roughly chop them, toss them in, and stir until they cook through and break down. That way you’ll still get a wonderful flavor.
I don’t have Ms. Hazan’s cookbook but I’ve been making this recipe for a few years. I’m always flummoxed by the lack of any mention of draining fat. I end up with so much fat it’s downright unappetizing, so I drain all but the smallest bit. It’s quite delicious that way, but I wonder if I’m doing my sauce a disservice by draining. What do others do?
Sarah, no, you’re not doing a disservice at all. I do wonder: What’s the fat ratio of your beef? And are you using all the butter in the sauce or half in the sauce and half for the pasta?
Thank you for sharing this recipe. I am one to improvise on recipes or forget steps, but in honor of Marcella, I followed the recipe to a “T” and didn’t add anything extra. It came out amazing. The recipe takes time but is simple in technique, and it taught me how much of a difference time can make. In my improvisational cooking style, I never put too much thought into time and layering flavors. Not only is this a recipe I’ll keep forever, but the skeleton of the recipe will help me cook more thoughtfully.
Tara, then Marcella (and I guess me, in the smallest of ways) have done our jobs. Now, you can go on to show others the benefit and pleasure of slow, layered cooking!
“But it’s crucial that by the time the sauce has finished simmering, the water should be completely evaporated,”
I’m confused by the sentence I’ve copied above. First of all, it can’t possibly be accurate; if all the water evaporates, the sauce is becomes a mixture of powder and rock-hard chunks of former food.
What I assume it means is that if I draw a spoon through the middle of the sauce, it stays parted like Moses did to the Red Sea.
When I made this sauce in this way, I found the end result inedible. In the dozen or two experiments that I’ve run since then, I discovered that when the sauce is too dry, some of the flavors become very harsh. It makes sense, because some flavors are water soluble, and without enough water, you won’t be able to taste them.
However, the above picture looks pretty dry to me and I’m not sure why that hasn’t worked for me.
Greg, it definitely means what it says: that the water evaporates. And it won’t be a mixture of powder and rock-hard chunks because there is fat in it, as well as moisture in the meat, tomatoes, etc. Basically, make sure that the added water evaporates, and only the added water. Hope this helps.
David, thanks for replying. Afraid it doesn’t help, though….you’d have to reach through the screen and taste what I’d made. As I said, my batch of Hazan’s Bolognese was inedible. Had to throw it away. It tasted…vegetably (is that a word?). I’m not sure if this is something I’m doing wrong, or I don’t know what this sort of Bolognese is supposed to taste like. Other recipes seem more liquid….”The Splendid Table” says consistency of thick soup, which is a lot thinner than Hazan’s Bolognese, or so it seems to me.
I probably suffer from not ever eaten a true Bolognese, so I don’t know what all the fuss is about. I’ve never actually seen it on any of the menus of the Italian restaurants in my city, and I’m not sure it would be an accurate rendition if I did.
Road trip! Where is the best Bolognese that you’ve ever eaten?
Greg, I’m at a loss. Send me an email at david@leitesculinaria.com, and perhaps we can set up a call or a Skype conversation, so I can see what you’re doing.