A Brief chat about .........

IN SEARCH OF SPAG BOL Spag Bog, Spaggy Bol, Spaghetti Bolognese. Call it what you will but the chances are that this was the first Italian dish you ever tried and for many it's still their favourite. Many of us will have memories of our mothers trying to egg us on to eat what looked suspiciously like a plate of bloody worms.For not a few also, it was the first dish we learnt to make and dally with so it became our signature student dinner party dish. Everyone has their own secret variation to make their SB unique; mine was copious amounts of Bulgarian Cabernet( for chef and pot) plus a more than generous shake of the Lea&Perrins bottle. The great thing about SB was that it was cheap, filling and even if it didn't taste of anything it could be miraculously resurrected with a helping of cheese (Parmesan when flush, Cheddar when skint).Pretty well every student graduates with a two pot signature dish such as Chilli con Carne, Chop Suey, Goulash or Rogan Josh and like SB all these bear the scantest resemblence to their forefathers back in the old country. Whilst in India during my year off, the masochistic, napalm-hot curry eater in me was determined to seek out a genuine Goan Vindaloo. To my surprise it turned out to be a delicious sweet and sour pork sausage stew without any Chernobyl meltdown afterwards. So, having got a genuine Vindaloo under my belt, so to speak, I decided that one day I should treat myself to an SB in its hometown of Bologna. A few years ago I found myself in Bologna for the night. I asked the all-knowing concierge if he could reccommend the best restaurant in the city for SB. After his gaze had dropped down from the ceiling he drew me a map of how to get to his restaurant of choice. It was a lovely old place with walls covered in sepia photos of illustrious patrons dining with joy. When I could not find SB on the menu I called over the waiter and asked if he had any 'off piste' or whether it was an under-the-counter job for the cognoscenti only. After his gaze fell from the beautifully frescoed ceiling he said,                       'Certo, Singore. Spaghetti Bolognese, at once.' When it arrived it was, to my eyes, a rather meagre affair. For one used to a fifty/fifty ratio of mince to pasta this was a very poor showing of more like ten/ninety. I didn't need to carve it up either. The light tomato sauce almost magnetically attached itself to the fresh pasta as I twirled it around my fork. It was deliciously subtle and light yet full of flavour. I wasn't even tempted to spoon on the Parmesan. The charming waiter reappeared at my elbow and whispered into my ear.                  'It's called Spaghetti alla Ragu in Italy. The ragu sauce is a simple combination of fresh flavours:best pork and veal meat minced with a little carrot, celery ,onion and of course, tomatoes, all fresh from our garden. It's small, perfectly formed and works like a dream. Not unlike the Mini which was also designed by an Italian, no?' I made a mental never to make that gaffe again. About a year later I was in a busy restaurant when I heard a boorish English voice booming above the hub-bub of Italian diners. 'Ragu? Ragu? I don't want Ragu, mate. I don't want Dolmio or even Lloyd bleddin' Grossman, neither. I want Spaghetti Bolognese, likea Mamma useda make; not some stuff out of a jar!' There but for the Grace of God... My cravings for my kind of SB have at last been satisfied. Not in Bologna either but in the neighbouring Marches where they eat the highest amount of meat per capita in Italy. It was here in the Ristorante Duilia in Sant Angelo in Pontano that I have enjoyed the nearest thing to my old first true love. The Tagliatelle ai Anatra is accompanied by Roberto's imitation of a duck( no menus here and certainly no translations either). It is an equal measure of fresh thin tagliatelle and super-rich duck mince with cloves, juniper berries and thick, thick tomato sauce. As I am older and wiser now I drink the ripe local Rosso Piceno as the perfect accompaniment. My Bulgarian Cabernet days with the black-lipped mornings-after are behind me but my love affair with SB lives on. First love, so they say, lasts forever. Ristorante Duilia, Sant Angelo in Pontano, Macerata. Le Marche. Tel 0733 661288. Closed Weds and early Sept David Sheppard