Bolognese Quotes

It's almost impossible to feel crap after eating a really great spaghetti bolognese.

Alleen spijt komt te laat. Ik bedoel dat letterlijk zo: enkel en alleen spijt komt écht te laat. Bussen, treinen, je allereerste echte orgasme, mensen, de spaghetti bolognese die je anderhalf uur geleden besteld hebt: het zijn geen van alle dingen waar je een leven lang van wakker ligt. Van spijt wel. Van alle dingen des levens is spijt het enige dat werkelijk té laat kan komen. Verder is te laat komen nooit zo dramatisch als het lijkt.

Goddamn Lassiter. Dinner invite. Sal’s. WTF. The last thing he wanted to do was sit across from that angel and listen to a Reservoir Dogs opener about dick symbolism in Deadpool. The problem? His brother, iAm, did make the best Bolognese anywhere, and besides, if Trez didn’t show? Lassiter was just the flavor of asshole to turn up here in a clown costume and honk his nose until Trez lost his mind.

My God, she despised spaghetti bolognese. Night after night after night, plate after plate after plate. The laundry, the ironing, the mopping, the sweeping, the driving. She’d never resented it at the time but now she resented every moment, every single bloody lamb chop.

Run to the local bookshop and buy a copy of How to Learn Mind Control in Ten Minutes by Professor Stephen Haste and very quickly hypnotise Miss Spite into thinking he had already given her his homework. Disguise himself as a plate of spaghetti Bolognese. Bribe the school nurse into telling Miss Spite he had died.

He could barely open his eyes. 'Hello? You there, God? It's me Judy.' 'Kipling. Can you hear me?' 'I'd like to order room service, please. I'd like the spaghetti Bolognese.' He rolled off the raft into the pool, sinking. I pulled off my shoes and raincoat and dove after him, finding him drifting motionless along the bottom. Madly I kicked back to the surface. 'Kipling! Can you hear me?" "'It's the final countdown,'" He sang, his eyes slits. I was the lone nurse working in a madhouse.

Throughout history, there have been many wars fought for many different reasons. Some reasons are very serious, like politics, power, economics, or just revenge. Some reasons are as simple as a difference in opinion or just not liking each other. Then there are reasons that are so stupid you wonder what was going through the minds of people at the time. According to “The Vintage News,” the “War of the Bucket” was fought between two Italian city-states, Bologna and Modena, in 1325. To fully understand why two city-states went to war over a bucket, you need to understand the history behind it. From the 12th to the 14th century, the different powers of Europe fought a series of wars, which are known as the Guelph and Ghibelline Wars. During that time, the two Italian city-states of Modena and Bologna both took opposing sides. In 1325, a group of soldiers from Modena snuck into the city of Bologna and stole a bucket from the city’s central well. It wasn’t the fact that they stole the bucket that angered the people of Bologna. They were angered by the fact that their enemies were able to sneak into their city undetected and steal something. They saw it as dishonorable and demanded the return of their bucket. Modena refused to do so. At this point, both of them should have realized that a fight over a bucket was a bit silly, but they didn’t. Bologna mobilized its forces, and so did Modena. Modena was severely outnumbered during the war, and the Bolognese had the high ground. Even with these circumstances, Modena still managed to win the war and steal a second bucket from the city for good measure. This is a funny tale, but let’s not forget that 2,000 people died in this war and the Modenese soldiers destroyed most of the city of Bologna in the process. They even destroyed a sluice on the local river so that the Bolognese had no need for a bucket because they couldn’t get water anymore.

And? you’re thinking. Spaghetti Bolognese?! you’re thinking. What’s that got to do with anything? Well, as my homeroom teacher Mr. Rourke would say, “read on Macduff,” which is something to do with Shakespeare. See? You’ve learned something already!

SIMPLE BOLOGNESE When we were kids, this was our favorite sauce, hands down. I used to love it on everything—pasta, rice, bread, potatoes, and polenta—you name it, I covered it in bolognese. We went through a lot of it in my household. So my parents had to figure out a way to make it that was quicker than the traditional recipe, and here it is. It’s just as rich and mouthwatering as the more time-consuming traditional recipe; I promise you won’t know the difference. Now that I’m all grown up, I try not to use bolognese for everything, but it’s tempting because it’s perfect as a sauce for any type of pasta shape. MAKES ABOUT 1 QUART; SERVES 4 OVER A POUND OF PASTA AS A MAIN COURSE ¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil 1 medium onion, minced 2 garlic cloves, minced 1 celery stalk, minced 1 carrot, peeled and minced 1 pound ground beef chuck 1 (28-ounce) can crushed tomatoes ¼ cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 8 fresh basil leaves, chopped ½ teaspoon salt, plus more to taste ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more to taste ¼ cup freshly grated Pecorino Romano cheese In a Large Skillet, heat the oil over a medium flame. When almost smoking, add the onion and garlic and sauté until the onion is very tender, about 8 minutes. Add the celery and carrot and sauté for 5 minutes. Increase the heat to high, add the ground beef, and sauté until the meat is no longer pink, breaking up any large lumps, about 10 minutes. Add the tomatoes, parsley, basil, and ½ teaspoon each of salt and pepper, and cook over medium-low heat until the sauce thickens, about 30 minutes. Stir in the cheese, then season with more salt and pepper to taste. (The sauce can be made 1 day ahead. Cool, then cover and refrigerate. Rewarm over medium heat before using.)  

È certo che Dante non era arrivato da solo a questa nuova lettura dei rapporti tra uomo e donna, c’erano stati i poeti cortesi, i siciliani e il bolognese Guido Guinizzelli a precederlo. Ma i trovatori, i siciliani e lo stesso Guinizzelli stanno a Dante come la Vita Nuova sta alla Commedia: nulla di paragonabile! Quel che Dante seppe tirare fuori dalle premesse della poesia provenzale e bolognese è incommensurabilmente superiore.

Stabilito che Dante è un poeta, dobbiamo chiederci da che cosa tragga ispirazione la sua poesia. La risposta la conosciamo già: dall’amore. Dante è figlio della poesia cortese e di quella siciliano-bolognese, che è tutta poesia d’amore. Dante, per giunta, è il fondatore di una nuova scuola, lo Stilnovo, secondo la quale la poesia è tutta poesia d’amore per definizione.

What would your last meal be?" I asked suddenly. That was a night when I thought it would be all right if my life ended. "A really long omikase. Like at least thirty-four courses. I want Yesuda to cook them himself. He puts the soy sauce on with a paintbrush." "Salmon pastrami from Russ and Daughters. A ton of bagels. Like three bagels." "In-N-Out double double." "I'm thinking about a Barolo, something really ripe and dirty, like from the eighties." "ShackBurger and a milk shake." "My mom's was veal scallopini and a Diet Coke." "Nonna's Bolognese----it takes eight hours. She makes the pappardelle by hand." "A roast chicken---I would eat the entire thing by hand. And I guess a DRC. When else would I taste that kind of Burgundy?" "Blinis, caviar, and crème fraîche. Done and done. Some impossible Champagne, Krug, or a culty one like the Selosse, drunk out of the bottle." "Toast," I said, when my turn came. I tried to think of something more glamorous, but toast was the truth. I expected to be mocked. My suburban-ness, my stupidity, my blankness. "What on top?" "Um. Peanut butter. The raw kind you get from the health-food stores. I salt it myself.

These differences are unlikely to make much difference to a hungry shrew. But a white truffle found in Alba will sell for four times as much as a white truffle found near Bologna (although the fact that some truffle dealers regularly pass off Bolognese truffles as being from Alba would suggest that not everyone is able to tell the difference). Regional differences in truffles’ volatile profiles have been confirmed in formal studies (Vita et al. [2015]).

In October, Louise showed several new paintings at the Panoras Gallery on Fifty-Sixth Street. During this period, she painted nudes, interiors, several versions of MacDuff, many portraits, at least two paintings set in public buses, and other New York street-life subjects. Her stylized figures were often inspired by random encounters and eavesdropping. Observing underdogs and outsiders in action, she was drawn to faces and to cityscapes and to a style that incorporated storytelling and allegory. Louise’s new work was influenced by the scene painting of the Works Progress Administration and Mexican muralists; by Käthe Kollwitz and German expressionists like Max Beckmann, Oskar Kokoschka, and Egon Schiele; by Alice Neel, Francis Bacon, and other portraitists—and, to an increasing extent, by medieval tapestries and frescoes by Bolognese Renaissance artists such as Pellegrino Tibaldi. Louise kept working to reveal the lives behind the faces she portrayed—their backstory—and began to introduce some southern imagery from her own memories. She was fascinated by the story beneath the surface and whatever metaphysical qualities she could draw from the depths of her subject.

such as a three-ingredient tomato sauce, a chicken with just two lemons, a soup with but a ladleful of cannellini, a pork butt braised solely in milk, a bluefish baked with garlic and potatoes, a pasta with a fistful of small scallops, Bolognese sauce, are drawn from the everyday meals Marcella cooked for her family.

Welcome home, Master Cade,” I announce with a flourish as he walks into the kitchen, shooting me a scowl. An annoyed scowl? “What are you doing? And why are you calling me that?” Cade’s voice rumbles dangerously. “Stirring the spaghetti sauce that the young Padawan requested, I am.” Ask stupid questions, get stupid answers. He can clearly see that I’m moving a spoon around in a pot full of Bolognese sauce. He glowers at me like I’m the least funny person he’s ever met. “And I’m talking like this because it’s hard to get out of character after playing Star Wars all afternoon.

He made dinner for us,” she answers finally. “Cool. What did he make?” I ask, actually interested. “Ragu Alla Bolognese.” That motherfucker. I don’t need to know Italian to know he made her favorite dish. Well played, Zaney.

Schatz, es gibt Bolognese“, meinte Felizitas und schob ihm ein großes Stück Parmesan sowie die Käsereibe zu. “Würdest du bitte für den Käse sorgen?“' fragte sie und ihr Augenaufschlag brachte Konstantin fast um den Verstand. Da waren Sterne in den Augen, so glaubte er zu erkennen. Ein leiser Seufzer entfleuchte seiner Brust und beinahe wäre er zurückgetaumelt. Samuel war es, der ihn lachend auffing und umarmte. Dieses Mal mangelte es ihm sogar an Energie, dagegen verbal zu protestieren. Der Herzschlag und die Wärme taten gut, ebenso die Kraft, die in dem sehnigen Körper steckte. Es war Leben in seinem Rücken und Vertrauen. Konstantin beruhigte sich einerseits, andererseits ängstigte es ihn auf eine Art und Weise, die er nicht beschreiben konnte.

We'll be in Parma, Bologna, Florence, Ravenna, and the hills of Chianti with our own 'Morning in America' chef, Casey Costello, who will cook in the kitchens with real Italians. We'll show you how true parmigiano-reggiano is made and see the fat pigs that give us Parma ham. You'll learn how to cook a Tuscan steak the size of a cow, make a real Bolognese sauce, pasta the Italian way"- she leaned forward and gave the camera a coquettish twinkle- "and what to do with a squiggling eel." Who could resist?

He took a moment to regain his composure, but he got it right on the next take and finally began to make the Bolognese sauce. The pan on the stove had butter that we had already partially melted, and he poured in some olive oil. Then he stirred in the previously identified chopped vegetables, and after several minutes (which would later be edited out), the vegetables were translucent. When he added the finely chopped beef, Sally told the viewers, "You could also use a very good grade of hamburger." He poured in some milk, let it evaporate, and then added crushed tomatoes, red wine, and broth. "Now you must cook the sauce two, three hours until it is done," he said. The cameras stopped and we swapped the pan for an identical one with a finished sauce. We also poured boiling water and cooked spaghetti into the pot that had been sitting empty on the stove.

Maybe they wanted a good look at what they were about to blow into jingle-bus bolognese. Juice

No matter where he went in the City, there was an odoriferous mix of food and vehicles, like the alchemic concoctions of some mad gourmet mechanic: Kung Pao Saab Turbo, Buick Skylark Carbonara, Sweet-and-Sour Metro Bus, Honda Bolognese with Burning Clutch Sauce.

I don't know how long I spent wandering about the supermarket creating meals in my mind. Hot roast chicken and mayonnaise sandwiches. Pizzas on crispy bases. Big, heaving bowls of spaghetti Bolognese. Crunchy, cheesy nachos with sour cream. I did a full circle and ended back in the fruit and veg section. Next to the peaches were boxes filled with tomatoes still clinging to their vines. The ripe tomato smell was almost sexual. It filled my nostrils as I lifted the box. There were some slightly rotten ones near the bottom of the box, but the rest were just perfect, thick with the perfume of their green vines, fat and red.

Bolognese Sauce Also called Bolognese or ragù alla Bolognese, this sauce combines vegetables and meat to create the perfect sauce for pouring over spaghetti. INGREDIENTS | SERVES 6 2 teaspoons olive oil ½ pound 94% lean ground beef ½ pound ground pork 1 onion, minced 1 carrot, minced 1 stalk celery, minced 3 ounces tomato paste 28 ounces canned diced tomatoes ½ cup fat-free evaporated milk ¼ teaspoon ground black pepper ¼ teaspoon salt 1/8 teaspoon nutmeg Heat the oil in a nonstick pan. Brown the ground beef and pork. Drain off any excess fat. Add the meats and remaining ingredients to a 4-quart slow cooker. Cook on low for 8–10 hours. Stir before serving. PER SERVING Calories: 240 | Fat: 12g | Sodium: 350mg | Carbohydrates: 16g | Fiber: 4g | Protein: 18g

No matter where he went in the City, there was an odor-iferous mix of food and vehicles, like the alchemic concoctions of some mad gourmet mechanic: Kung Pao Saab Turbo, Buick Skylark Carbonara, Sweet-and-Sour Metro Bus, Honda Bolognese with Burning Clutch Sauce.

Poesje mauw lust warme melk, met Croky chips, paprika, original and Bolognese.

Croky Bolognese and hot Chili peppers.

Red Hot Chili peppers and Croky Bolognese.

Dreams and farts remain in bed.

MOM'S SPAGHETTI BOLOGNESE 6 stewed tomatoes 1 onion, diced 4 cloves garlic, minced 1 bunch basil leaves 1 pound ground beef 1/2 cup red wine 1/4 cup parmesan cheese 2 tablespoons red pepper flakes 1 tablespoon oregano 2 bay leaves 3 tablespoons olive oil Splash of balsamic vinegar

It begins with Miller the Killer turning his head to see me eating Bolognese from the sick bag. Only he thinks I’m eating…

BENJAMIN Age: 10 Height: 5’1 Favourite animal: His dog, Spooky   Of all the Cluefinders, Benjamin is the most interested in sports. He is very physically active, playing football and cricket at the weekends, and often going for a morning jog with Jake, his next-door neighbour, and their Dads. Ben took some karate lessons until he decided that he never wanted to fight another person if he could help it. Like Chris, he loves to read comic books, and his favourite super-hero is Spider-Man, who is also very athletic. He says, “I love to exercise because it means I can eat whatever I want without getting fat!” Ben especially loves spaghetti Bolognese and pizza.   Ben has a dog, Spooky, who he plays with all the time. Ben has a soft spot for all animals, and supports the World Wildlife Fund, which aims to protect endangered wild animals which are at risk of going extinct. His goals for the future include travelling around the world, an ambition he shares with Clara. He would like to visit the countries of South America, where there is an abundance of wildlife.

Thursday night is pasta night," I say. "I left you guys a lasagna Bolognese, garlic knots, and roasted broccolini. Ian is going to make the Caesar salad table side." Thursday is the day I come in only to train Ian, so on Wednesdays I always leave something for an easy pasta night. Either a baked dish, or a sauce and parboiled pasta for easy finishing, some prepped salad stuff, and a simple dessert. "Awesome. Does the lasagna have the chunks of sausage in it?" I narrow my eyes at him. "Robert Adam Farber, would I leave you a lasagna without chunks of sausage in it?" I say with fake insult in my voice. "No, El, you totally have my back on all things meat. What's for dessert?" "Lemon olive oil cake with homemade vanilla bean gelato.

Brandon picked up his beer and tipped it at me. “Josh is actually great at that. That’s why he always bags a bird.” He was wingmanning me for Kristen. I just hoped she found dead turkeys sexy. Kristen smiled at me. A genuine smile. “Have you hunted all your life?” “Yup.” I put the lid on the pot call and handed it back to Brandon. Kristen poked at her salad. Then she looked back up at me, her eyes innocent. “Is it true that ‘vegetarian’ is a Native American word for ‘bad hunter’?” Brandon laughed so suddenly he choked. I smiled at her, happy to see her coming back to her old self. “You know, I still don’t have a car,” Sloan said over her pasta after Brandon stopped laughing. “You two broke my Corolla.” Kristen snorted. “Really? You’re going to put this on us? The hamster probably died.” “What hamster?” Sloan looked confused. Kristen skewered a crouton. “The one running in the wheel under the hood.” Brandon and I laughed, and Sloan pressed her lips into a line, trying to look angry, but she couldn’t keep a straight face. “How can you let her drive that thing?” I shook my head at Brandon. “I told her, I don’t know how many times, that I’ll buy her a new car,” Brandon said, still chuckling. Sloan shrugged. “I don’t want a new car. That was the car I learned to drive in. I had my first kiss in that car.” Brandon gave her a mock serious look. “Well, then it definitely has to go.” Sloan smiled at him and leaned over and kissed him fleetingly on the lips. I watched my best friend look at her for a moment after she went back to her food. He really loved her. I remembered the first time he started talking about her, three years ago. We were sitting in a duck blind in South Dakota, and he went on for hours about this woman he’d been seeing. I’d never seen him so into someone. I made a mental note to talk about that during my best-man speech. “Hey, didn’t you two meet on a call?” I asked, trying to recall the story he’d told me. “At a hospital or something?” Sloan smiled sweetly at Brandon. “Yeah. I only gave him my number because he was in uniform.” I grinned. “Can’t say no to a man in uniform, huh?” I twirled my fork around my pasta. It was incredible. Some kind of venison Bolognese. Sloan was a great cook. Kristen and I really should eat here more often. “No, I can,” she said. “It’s just I figured they wouldn’t let a felon or registered sex offender into the fire department.