Really —ing Good Spaghetti Bolognese

Have you ever read The Truth?

Terry Pratchett once said that it's a universal truth that "if a gang has two members [...] one will do the thinking and the other will 'talk like dis'". Which explains his own Mr Tulip and Mr Pin. They are terrible, terrible people. They are Those Two Bad Guys. And it's a great running gag that Mr Tulip, the terrifying giant, swears like a motherf—er, something like this:

"It's not a —ing harpsichord, it's a —ing virginal," growled Mr. Tulip. "One —ing string to a note instead of two! So called because it was an instrument for —ing young ladies!"

Only he doesn't. We find out later that he is, in fact, saying exactly what Pratchett writes, and it's a brilliant Brick Joke moment. Mr Tulip, rather than swearing, simply makes a glottal stop followed by 'ing', and it conveys as much hatred and obscenity as any one syllable possibly could.

I'm telling you this for a reason, I swear.

Last night we had friends over, in order to play the world's most vexing boardgame, Sherlock Holmes Consulting Detective. It was an unexpected occurrence, and as such, got an unexpected dinner to accompany it, which took the form of 'We Have Mince In The Fridge And Everyone Likes My Spag Bol'.

This recipe is an amalgam of all the bologneses I have cooked, eaten, read about and seen over the years, compiled out of the products of theft, like a magpie's nest.

It is amazing.

I genuinely cannot stress enough how —ing amazing this bolognese is.

Really—ing Good Spaghetti Bolognese

• butter and olive oil
• 2 carrot
• 2 large onions
• 3 cloves garlic
• 2 sticks celery
• 1 bay leaf
• 3 rashers smoked bacon
• handful chopped mushrooms
• 750g beef mince
• glass of red wine
• 1 beef stock cube
• 1 tin chopped tomatoes
• 1 tsp tomato paste
• dribble of Lea & Perrins
• pinch of dried basil
• salt & pepper to taste
• as much spaghetti as necessary
• cheddar or parmesan, to serve

Finely chop your onions, garlic, celery and celery, and fry these in a generous amount of butter and olive oil until softened to make a mirepoix base. Tuck in a bay leaf as you cook.

Dice your bacon in a rough, largeish sort of manner, and add it to the pan, letting it cook through. I have some friends who swear by using chorizo instead, which would give a nice paprika taste. Chuck in your mushrooms.

Brown your mince. Do not - and this is really very important - break it up until it has browned on the bottom. Leave it. Put down the spatula. Then break it up, and leave it again. And so on, and so forth. Once it's nicely cooked, deglaze the pan with half the glass of wine. 

Make and pour in the beef stock, bring to the boil and let it reduce. Be patient. You are making a —ing masterpiece here. Drink the rest of the glass of wine. Once reduced down, add your chopped tomatoes and tomato paste and simmer on a very low heat for a very long time. At minimum, one hour, ideally two.

Bet you're glad you opened that bottle of wine now, eh?

Once you're happy with your consistency, boil and salt the water for your pasta. Season your sauce with the basil, worcestershire sauce, and salt and pepper, and anything else that strikes your fancy. It's quite nice to tuck a few basil leaves in here, but make sure that really is at the end.

Cook up your pasta, drain and toss with olive oil. Serve with a large heaping of cheese, and whatever is left of the —ing wine.

Serves 4.