An Effing Foodie: Gravy, Baby, Gravy: Pork Ragu Rigatoni with Ricotta

My favorite kitchen game?

There's-a-half-inch-of-snow-on-the-ground-so-the-whole-free-
world-will-be-at-Stop-and-Shop-buying-bread-and-milk-let's-see-
what we-can-make-from-the-pantry-and-freezer.

(Let's-cram-two-week's-worth-of-groceries-into-my-condiment-
choked-fridge is a close second. Like Tetris, but with mustard and jam jars!)

This be gravy weather, in all its various, multiculti forms; an amalgam of meat juice and thickened fat, gravy is true sustenance for the masses, and among the most economical and tasty ways to stretch the use of meat.

I love hearing people talk about "Sunday Gravy"--it's the stuff of legend, and a relatively new culinary concept to a gal who grew up in Hawaii. Here is an abbreviated chronology of my understanding of gravy:

Age 8: The almighty beige glue cloaking eerily symmetrical ice-cream-scooped mashed potatoes.
Age 12: The lifeblood of Loco Mocos.
Age 18: First honest-to-God gravy, made from our tiny family turkey drippings.
Age 21: First intro to sausage gravy and biscuits. (Thank you, Alton Brown!)
Age 22: First intro to disco fries. (Thank you, Odessa!)

Tomato-based "gravy" never entered my consciousness until:

A) I watched "The Sopranos" and saw a beehived Livia wielding a two-pronged fork over a stock pot.

B) I moved to the East Coast and made friends with true-blue, Feast of the Seven Fishes Italians, who had frozen red pints of the precious stuff stashed in their freezers.

Granted, I didn't have the massive arsenal of varying meats on-hand that you'd need to make authentic Sunday Gravy, but I did have some frozen pork vittles, many canned tomato variations, and a strong craving for something long-simmered and ladled on carbs.

So I fished out a recipe from my go-to cookbook, Cook's Illustrated's The New Best Recipe, tweaked as I went, and came up with an easy, rib-sticking meal. Sadly, I don't think what I made can be anointed as Sunday Gravy, but I feel like it was a modest gesture in that spirit. Baby steps...ya gotta EARN that beehive!

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Pork Ragu Rigatoni with Ricotta

Adapted by An Effing Foodie
Original Recipe: “Pasta and Rustic Slow-Simmered Tomato Sauce with Meat”,
The New Best Recipe, pg. 258, © 2004.

Serves 4

Ingredients:

1 TBSP. olive oil
1 1/2 lbs. country-style pork ribs (This is what I used, which were pretty lean; next time, I’d try use the suggested beef short ribs or pork spareribs, or maybe even oxtails, for more fat/collagen/flavor. Bones make everything better.)
Kosher salt
Black pepper, freshly cracked
1 medium onion, minced
3 garlic cloves, minced
3 sprigs fresh rosemary, leaves stripped and minced
1/2 cup dry red wine
1 (28-oz.) can tomatoes, diced or crushed
1/2 to 1 cup reserved pasta water, wine, or combination thereof
1 pound pasta (I used rigatoni, but halfway through my bowl I wished it was pappardelle.)
Grated parmesan, pecorino, or ricotta (brought to room temperature) for serving.

Method:

Heat the oil until shimmering in a large skillet or Dutch oven. Season the ribs with salt and pepper and brown on all sides, turning with tongs, for 10-15 minutes (don’t rush this part, you want to get good color for your sauce base). Remove ribs to a plate and set aside.

Add the onion to the pot and sprinkle with a pinch of salt (to draw out water); sauté for 2 minutes before adding the garlic and minced rosemary (you can toss the whole, stripped stems in there too). Sauté for another minute, or until garlic and onions have softened.

Add wine to deglaze the pan, scraping up the coveted browned bits from the bottom, and allow to reduce and simmer for 2-3 minutes. Return the ribs and all the accumulated juices back into the pan. Add the tomatoes and their juice, stir to combine, and allow the mixture to come to a boil.

Reduce heat to low, cover, and allow to simmer gently for 1 1/2 hours, turning ribs occasionally, until the meat is very tender and shredding off the bones. (If you’re using beef short ribs, The New Best Recipe recommends simmering for 2 hours, as beef ribs are thicker.)

When the 1 1/2 hours are almost up, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil, to prepare the pasta.

Remove rosemary stems. Transfer ribs to a large, clean bowl or plate. Shred the meat from the bones with tongs (or, allow the meat to cool sufficiently, and do it with your fingers). If you’re using country ribs, you can shred the meat with tongs, without removing them from the pot. Discard the bones and unpalatable fat. Return the shredded meat to the sauce pot (should look like pulled pork) and simmer uncovered for about 5 minutes, or until heated through.

Stir the pasta into the pot of boiling water and cook until al dente. Drain pasta, reserving a cup or so of the pasta water.

If at this stage the sauce is thicker than you’d like, feel free to thin it out with some of the reserved pasta water, a hit of wine, or a bit of both. Finish the sauce with salt and pepper (maybe some red pepper flakes too, if you’ve got ‘em).

Combine sauce and pasta in a large bowl, and toss to coat. (There were only 2 of us dining this evening, so I skipped this step, and we tossed our own little bowls.) Pass the cheeses and red pepper flakes and allow each eater customize; consume immediately with any leftover wine.