It's just gravy, don't argue with me

(This is a repeat - in honor of National Lasagna Day)

There are many great religious debates that have rages throughout the world - the Great Schism, the entire plot of The Mahabharata, the Diet of Worms, Henry VIII vs Pope Clement, Shiite vs Sunni and the most virulent - is it Tomato Sauce or Gravy. I'm not that wise a man and I'm only part Italian but it's Gravy and not Tomato Sauce and if you don't understand that then you should just eat at the Olive Garden and you've basically missed the whole point of all the Godfather movies. So, even though this gravy (tomato sauce) is not mixture of a roux and pan dripping, a person should wager as though it is called Gravy, because living a life based on this has everything to gain, and nothing to lose.

Ingredients

* About ½ cup olive oil
* 1 lbs sweet or hot Italian sausage (or mixture)
* 1 lb your favorite meatballs (about 16 formed meatballs*)
* 1 1/2 lb beef short ribs (cut into 2 inch pieces, if you're good with a meat cleaver great, we'll talk later, if not have the butcher do it for you.)
* 1 lb marrow bones (if you can find them - make friends with your butcher you never know when you may need to dispose of a body)
* 1 lb lamb neck bones (pork bones will do, in a pinch)
* 1 large Spanish onions, chopped
* 5 or 6 garlic cloves, chopped
* 1 12-oz can tomato paste
* 2 28-oz cans whole peeled tomatoes (preferably San Marzano) with juices
* 2 bay leaves
* 2 bottles of Montepulcino (or any other dry red wine)
* Salt to taste (about 2 to 3 tsp)
* dried basil and dried oregano to taste (about a tablespoon each but God forbid you actual have to measure that out.) * Box of italian pastries (must include cannoli)
* no sugar (yeah I know your grandmother probably used it but don't)

Tools

* 1 large heavy bottomed stock pot (you know you have the right size if you can fit a severed head in it with the lid closed)
* cutting board
* sharp chef's knife
* large wooden spoon
* large serving bowl (preferably one with a picture of Pope Paul VI giving a benediction but 'Kiss the cook or else' will do.)
* large serving platter (the one with the chip in it. 'Yes I know, we can never have anything nice in this house' one.)
* the special bowl we use to make grandma’s meatballs (even though we aren't making her meatballs)
* small bowl to beat eggs (sorry, I don't have a funny name for it. What am I a comedian?)
* DVD of the newly transferred Godfather
* CD of Luciano Pavarotti or Julius LaRosa's greatest hits
* small empty Welch's grape jelly jar (if you don't have one or don't remember what I'm taking about use an empty Bonne Maman Strawberry jam jar but don't tell anyone you used it.)

Instructions

Open the first bottle of wine and pour into the jelly jar. Go into the living room and start the Godfather. Take your first sip of wine and wonder what wedding gift you would have brought Connie. Gauge the distance between your living room and the kitchen and adjust the audio of your TV accordingly (you will need to be able to just about hear the movie over the music in the kitchen.)

Start the CD.



Place the large heavy-bottomed stockpot over medium heat. When it feels hot when you put your hand over the top of the open pot, coat the bottom with olive oil. When you can smell the olive oil, begin to brown all meats on all sides. Start with the sausage (curse in Italian when splattered by grease), and remove; meatballs*, and remove; ribs, and remove; then finally the neck bones, remove. (Add more olive oil and sip wine as needed.) Add onions to pot and slowly brown, stirring occasionally, about 3 to 5 minutes (don't burn). Add garlic and lightly brown, stirring occasionally, another 1 or 2 minutes. Have the bizarre Proustian rush that Grandma smelled like Maja soap and onions cooked in pork grease. Sip you wine slowly, listen to 'E lucevan le stelle' and ponder this.

Add tomato paste and stir to coat onions. Slowly cook until paste begins to thicken and turn deep reddish brown, about 5 minutes. Fill tomato paste can with wine and stir it around, put aside. Add tomatoes, one can at a time, slowly crushing them with your hand (imagine they are the hearts of your enemies) bay leaves, dried oregano and dried basil. Stir well, making sure you get down to the bottom. Put the wine and tomato paste mixture into one empty tomato can and more wine to fill half the can. Swirl it around to clean the can. Pour the contents into the other can and repeat. Pour the contents of that can into the pot and bring to a low boil.

Call in one of your kids (or the neighbor's kids) to throw cans into recycle bin and playfully swat them on the ass. Not too hard or child service may get involved. Have another glass of wine and wonder what scene the movie is up to. Run into the living room to see. Lower heat and simmer. A major controversy arises at the point - do you partial cover or not. Purist will tell you to cook uncovered (they are either OCD and enjoy cleaning or you have a kitchen slave.) Partial cover until sauce begins to thicken. Wonder whether or not Luca Brasi "sleeps with the fishes." Bring your freshly refilled jelly jar with you and find out. Remember to come into the kitchen ever now and then to stir the gravy. Life is not worth living if you burn your gravy.

After about an hour, add ribs and marrow bones (if you had them - major secret, the marrow from the bones will add an unbelievable depth to your gravy and will cut the acidity taste, so you won't need the sugar.) Wipe down the side of the stove from the gravy splatters. Tear off a piece of the Italian loaf and taste the gravy. Hurry up back to the movie before you miss the hit on The Godfather and Richard Castellano giving Italian cooking lessons.



In about another hour, cut the sausages into quarters and add. Once again wipe down the sides of the stove. Start thinking about what pasta you want with the gravy. I prefer fresh tagliatella or spaghetti but you could go with ziti or rigatoni, if you must. Remember to stir that gravy. If the gravy seems a little too thick and a glass of water (from your jelly jar. No one's in the kitchen - who's to know.) Again curse in Italian as you are burned by the hot splatters of gravy and the red oil slick that has developed on the top of the gravy. More bread, more wine (maybe a piece of cheese or dried sausage) and back the film.

Hope you've gotten back to the film in time for 'drop the gun and take the canolli’. Be happy as a clam you remembered to buy cannoli. In about another half hour, stir the gravy add meatballs and stir again. Turn off the heat and cover the pot (the residual heat will continue to cook the gravy and heat a small Cape Cod house in the middle of winter.) Put a pot of water on to boil for the pasta, remember to salt the water or my father-in-law ghost will come and haunt you. Go watch the rest of the movie.

Come back to the kitchen after the movie's over and realize that a lot of the water has probably been boiled away. Add about 2 more cups and bring to a boil. Restart the CD and play the theme from The Godfather cut. Turn the heat back on under the gravy. Season to taste with salt and add about a 1/4 of grated cheese (another secret.) Add your chosen pasta to the boiling water and cook for the required amount of time.

Drain in a scolapasta (colander.)

Be impressed with yourself that you know that a scolapasta is a colander. Use a slotted spoon to transfer meat to serving platter. Ladle sauce over your favorite pasta.

Call your family to the table, open the second bottle of wine and manga (have plenty of grated cheese at the table.)

* Meatballs (probably not like your grandmother's)

I'm not your grandmother (not even your grandfather.) I have not sweated nights trying to figure out how I'm going to pay the rent while my no good husband is out gambling or god knows what. I have not made homemade pasta for my no good sister-in-law, whose running around with Frankie the Butcher behind my stupid brother's back. I do not have decades of seething internalized rage that may had helped your grandmother perfect her meatball recipe but I'll share one with you anyway.


Ingredients

* 1 lb of Ground Chuck
* 1 Egg
* some of your crusty italian bread
* 1/4 cup Italian bread crumbs (about 3 Tsp.)
* Fresh Parsley
* Grated Parmesan Cheese
* Fresh Garlic - You can never have too much garlic!
* Coarse Black Pepper and Salt
* Pinch of salt
* Teaspoon of dried basil


Put the chop meat in the bowl you use to make meatballs, the one your grandmother gave you instead of your cousin. Even though your cousin was always the more handsome one, the one everyone thought would be a fashion model or a famous actor some day (who now lives down in Miami, giving elderly divorcees 'erotic massages'.) Add all of the seasoning and cheese into the bowl as well.

Tear up about two pieces of Italian Bread into small pieces and moisten them with a little red wine. Add them to the bowl of meat. Add half of the breadcrumbs and begin mixing the meat and other things together - just until they are combined.

But don't mix the meat too much. Does the meat mixture look like it's not coming together? Add a little more breadcrumbs. But don't mix the meat too much. Imagine that you've just gotten slapped in the back of the head from mixing the meat too much. Stop. Wash your hands and have a glass of wine to calm your nerves.

You should be able to make about 16 meatballs with this recipe (unless you have OCD then you can make exact 16 meatballs - divide the meat mixture in half, then half again, then half again - you get the drill.) When you roll your meat mixture into balls moisten your hands lightly (so the meat won't stick to your hands.) Don't compress the meatball too tightly or it will be tough but roll it between your hands until it holds together to form a ball.

Put aside until you're ready to cook.



Demand Euphoria!