Remember Ragù? I think it might still be around. It’s the canned tomato sauce, with the yellow-and-blue-and-red label, and it was my favorite pasta sauce as a kid. Mind you, I never really had it but once or twice, but that red devil spoke to me. It was thin, and sweet, and probably the worst brand of commercial red gravy out there, and for some reason I got these sick cravings for it. Like when you have that twisted urge to eat an entire box of Mike and Ike’s while watching What Not to Wear, or when you order that extra double cheeseburger at McDonalds. It happens. From time to time, we allow ourselves to be ashamed of the perverts we really are.

So back to Ragù. This piece isn’t really about the canned stuff, although a quick browse through the recipe section www.ragu.com is kind of a good time. This is about the real stuff, the Italian-born, slow-cooked stew-slash-sauce that is perfect, perfect, perfect for any time of year, but especially good when winter starts curling its fingers around March, then April, then May. It’s simple; the oven does the bulk of the work while you watch all those extra features on your eagerly awaited Donnie Darko: The Director’s Cut DVD. And if you’re planning on pitching the woo that evening with dinner and a movie, pasta with Ragù, a crust of bread, some good cheese, and a glass of wine will make him or her swoon. Donnie Darko might take them sit back upright, though, so have Amelie on hand.

Remember, though, we’re talking Italian Ragù, not French Ragoût. The French stuff, in typical grande-cuisine style, has a long and complicated history which leads, invariably, to a definition which is almost impossible to apply gracefully to the page, and for that matter, the amateur’s kitchen: First described in 1642 as anything to stimulate the appetite (that’s anything), it later changed into a particular stew-type dish that could be either white — not to be confused with a blanquette! — or brown, made with any type of meat, and perhaps involving myriad root vegetables and mushrooms. It’s also the name for fillings for omelets, charcuterie items, and garnishes for, well, everything. Mon dieu!

The Italian style is much more comforting. It originated in Bologna. The original principal ingredients were minced beef, unsmoked bacon, onion, celery, carrots, tomato and wine, and they have changed little over time. THAT’S IT.

My interpretation of Ragù stays pretty close to the original, and is a composite of all the recipes I have read about and tasted. While only Italian by marriage, I cook it in the Italian style — which is to say, I let the limitations of my kitchen and my own personal tastes guide me through the cooking process, while keeping the base ingredients basically the same. That’s the beauty of cooking this kind of food. While every Italian Nonna knows how to cook a tomato sauce, you’d be hard pressed to find two that taste alike, and even more pressed to get those wonderful ladies to admit that the other’s is better. That being said, I think my Ragù kicks some serious ass, but I encourage you to adjust according to your tastes.

RAGÙ PORTLANDESE

1 beef short rib

1 large country-style pork rib

1 28-oz. can crushed or diced tomatoes

1 rib celery, small dice

1 carrot, small dice

1 onion, small dice

.75 cup chicken or beef stock

.75 cup white wine

.25 cup milk

1 tablespoon dried basil

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

1. Preheat your oven to 250 degrees.

2. In a four-quart ovenproof pot, brown all sides of the whole ribs in the olive oil. Make sure they get nice and dark. In fact, dice all of your veggies while they’re browning to make sure you let them go long enough.

3. Pull the ribs out of the pot, set aside, and cook the veggies in the oil and fat until the onions become translucent. Add the tomatoes, wine, stock, milk, basil, and ribs back into the pot and bring to a boil.

4. Put a lid on the pot, and transfer to the oven. Forget about it.

5. After about four hours check to see if the bones have fallen out of the meat. If they have, the meat should be falling apart (if not, check every half hour until it does). Remove the meat and bones from the liquid, and discard the bones. Trim the meat of any remaining objectionable fat, and pull it apart. Add back into the pot.

6. Salt and pepper to taste. This takes a surprisingly liberal amount of salt, so don’t be afraid to pinch and taste, pinch and taste.

7. Serve on pasta with Parmesan, or even better, Pecorino Romano. Traditionally, spaghetti is used, but I like rigatoni, and you can use whatever you want.

Andy King can be reached at dinnerwithandy@yahoo.com