Red Wine Braised Short Rib Ragu with Swiss Chard and Pappardelle (European Style)

Rush Hour

As I slam my car door shut, I look down the hilly street towards the waters off Bay Ridge, which I can only just see if I arch my head over from the balcony. Just as when I lived in Red Hook, the waterfront was there, just not in full view–the water suggests itself even more so here, though it is less than a ten minute walk from the 2nd floor of our big yellow house, owned by a Greek couple. Being Croatian, I sometimes feel like the Greeks are the louder, more bombastic version of the Dalmatian Croatians. I feel almost British in the subtle behaviors I exhibit of my heritage.

Sun Signs

Tonight, looking down the hill, I become a little sad that the sun has already set at 5pm in the evening. I don’t get to climb the two flights of stone steps outside and the winding wooden staircase inside our front door as I did in summer–I would throw everything down, get into my summer house dress, feed and mind the cats, and have plenty of light to enjoy as I’d take a cold drink outside to the old balcony, the black walls of siding incompletely acting as the outer layer of the balcony. The crumbling Greek columns with their marbled facade would greet me, as I’d sit on the yellow and wood loveseat and look at the sun setting slowly west, just down the hill past the big houses.

I love the houses in Bay Ridge, since no matter how grand, each is different and lacks a sense of uniformity. I think of how my dad would have loved all the houses here, and I dream about what’d I’d do to this beautiful, old house in which we live: new kitchen, new bathroom, new windows, doors, and floors, make the fireplace work again, all sorts of things–dreaming of construction as the sun would set just out of reach.

Daylight Savings

Tonight, in the second week of November, during my favorite season of autumn, there is no light to greet me. The colors of the leaves have moved into being all brown, and have morphed from sight to sound, as I crunch on piles left all over the steps. This weekend promises to be what they call a cold snap. The wind here, just as in the Red Hook waterfront, sneaks up on you and whips various objects around. In Red Hook, it was random garbage or industrial shards left on the street; here it is the leaves of my landlord’s fruit trees, clean of former fruit and falling asleep for the winter.

I search my mind for the proper meal once I am upstairs. I flick on the lights and start the orange fireplace heater in the hearth. As the shapes dance about the white, painted on brick, it comes to me: pasta, obviously, but my pasta, stew, and Italian (by way of Croatian-American) recipe books are many; tonight calls for one thing and one thing only: Beef Ragu with Pappardelle. Short Rib Ragu. Red Wine Braised Short Rib Ragu, to be exact. I love this recipe every time I’d had it in a restaurant or made a version of it at home.

Handle with Care

This recipe can be fiddly, and time-consuming, but, like any ragu worth its salt, it is worth putting in an afternoon to create the ultimate cold-weather night comfort meal (in my opinion). I’d rather eat simply for three nights, then cook and bake my heart out from Friday to Sunday. And I do.

Despite my wanting to go the extra mile (I love to make my own pasta for special dishes like this, but box pasta is just fine, especially considering many supermarkets sell an array of fresh “gourmet” pasta if you’d like an option between the two), this recipe is really centered around focusing on one thing at a time. Before you know it, the parts move in together and the dish makes itself.

Naples Style

My version of Short Rib Ragu with Pappardelle is called “European style” for a reason. If you take a look at my NY vs. Naples style Lasagna post (my first), I talk about the Naples lasagna being built upon very different elements: a mirepoix lacking garlic, a lack of any spice other than black pepper and salt, and, my favorite substitute, the use of a buttery bechamel (or besciamella) in place of the NY ricotta layer. It pained me how much I loved the besciamella, since I am a dedicated follower of ricotta in all my Italian cooking.

What I did for this Ragu for a November Night is approach the ragu, the cheese, and the flavors Naples style, while honoring a hint of my roots with a couple of cloves of garlic and the use of red wine in braising (Naples ragu typically uses white wine, but I think the short ribs were crying out for a good Italian red to soak into their veins, like leaves growing from green to crimson.)

The Details

The keys to the feast are many:

Achieve a nice, crusty braise on the short ribs.

Allow the ragu to unfold slowly before you. It’s 5:30pm and pitch black outside, where do you have to be?

I decided to include some ribbons of fresh swiss chard in my ragu to add a little green bitterness (and, growing up I ate a LOT of swiss chard, called Blitva) and because I feel as if the swiss chard mingles into the chunky sauce well.

That’s another thing; I don’t shred my short rib completely when the time comes, but about 60%, leaving a lot of larger chunks, since I love that meaty texture to pair with the pappardelle.

After making my pasta dough with Tipo 00 flour for the softest feeling dough, I cut the pappardelle myself, since it’s very easy. I even let the strands dry out and freeze them until the next day, when the sauce was truly ready (or so my mother taught me).

The besciamella replaces the often used ricotta to add creaminess. You won’t regret it.

Comforts of Home

Lastly, it’s about the preparation for the plate. I don’t just mix in the hearty ragu with the pappardelle. I utilize a rarely exhibited self control and add each element separately: a good sized twist of pappardelle (definitely not all the same length–I like my noodles like I like my houses: unique), followed by an even more good sized mountain of ragu, both chunky and sweet, with little green flecks of swiss chard (“healthy”?), a loving dollop of creamy besciamella, followed by more parmiggiano, tiny basil leaves from the plants on my windowsill, a few flecks of red pepper flake because I just can’t resist, and a drizzle of olive oil.

One thing at a time. One meal at a time, while the light in the sky naps longer and longer each week. I love our home. I love that our cats, one old and one fat, have 15 windows to look out of, I love that I can catch what the light is doing at any time of day, any season, any weather. I love sitting on the balcony forgotten by time with my sweet guy and literally watch a rainstorm while it is being created.

Comfort food is about every season and every type of weather. it allows us to slow down, concentrate on doing one thing right, then another, then another…a meal prepared with patience, care, and little uniqueness like our Red Wine Braised Short Rib Ragu with Swiss Chard and Pappardelle is here to get you through some short, dark, and frigid nights to come. Find your comforts where you can, and appreciate each of them every single day.