Ragù Bolognese

If there's one word that you can describe Britain's culinary decrees with, it's stubborn. Don't worry, I don't mean that in such a callous, unpatriotic way- in fact, this capriciousness has plenty of merits: no new-wave, hipster, chia-seed-age foodie can alter a good old steamed syrup sponge or toad in the hole, and that's how it should be. Similarly, we have our own homespun version of what is now called Bolognese, although it really isn't, and it's lovely and makes a great foundation for cottage pie or lasagne, but I've covered them before, and until you try the proper, deep Italy confection, you will not know what ragù Bolognese is truly about.
Real Bolognese is thick, rich, tomato-concentrated and fragrant which is why, as the Italians have always said, you need only a small dollop amongst a steaming bowl of pasta, which shouldn't be spaghetti (accompanying ragu with that is believed to have been conceived in New York), instead go for something denser like penne, although no one said you need pasta at all. I love it in a bowl with some good bread dunked in. For what goes on top, parmesan is traditional but if you want something gooier and more toothsome, go for some sharp cheddar. I don't think Italians would sneer too much at it, because believe it or not English cheddar is growing popular in Italy.
If you want to go ultra authentic, you need three meats, not two. Split the beef with minced pork on top of the pancetta and add 175g chicken livers that have been coarsely chopped and soaked in milk for at least a day to draw out bitterness. All that is an expense and a faff, but by all means go for it if it takes your fancy, however an easier option I often take in meat sauces is to add some lamb liver, finely chopped in with the mince for depth and a bit of vitamin A.
Normally when I say add fresh herbs I mean in the regime of 'only if you've got them in the house' but the fresh basil here is crucial for fragrance and to give a wild coyote call to make the herbs added previously jump into flavoursome action.
What's great about meat sauce is that because it's such a basic staple standby, you can double or even triple this recipe then divide it amongst various plastic bag lined tuppawares and when cool, freeze. When they're solid unmould the bag and keep that in the freezer and save your tuppaware box. From this point you have lasagne and cannelloni galore- all it takes is an overnight fridge thaw.

150g chopped pancetta (you could use regular bacon or lardons here, but don't even think of using back bacon- the fattier streaky is what's needed)
2 small onions, peeled and chopped
2 sticks celery, finely sliced
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed
A few sprigs of thyme and rosemary, finely chopped
Pinch of chili flakes
500g minced beef (or 250g minced beef and minced pork)
60g tomato puree
2 x 400g tins chopped tomatoes
200ml water
250ml red wine, port, white wine, dry sherry, whatever's to hand
2 bay leaves
Salt and pepper
Freshly grated nutmeg
125ml single cream
Large bunch of fresh basil, chopped-

In a large, heavy bottomed saucepan heat some olive oil and cook the pancetta until rendered and slightly crispy. Add the vegetables and saute for about 10 minutes, until soft. Add the garlic and thyme and rosemary and then add the beef and cook until brown and crumbled, then add the tomato paste, the alcohol, chopped tomatoes, water (which is just the tomato tin filled halfway and while you're at it, swill the other tin too), bay leaves and chilli flakes.
Leave partially covered on a low heat for a few hours to simmer and reduce.
Season well, do it here so you don't add too much salt before the sauce has reduced and thus concentrated,  with pepper and lots of nutmeg and then ooze in the cream and add the chopped basil, leaving some to sprinkle on top.