Duck ragout

Ragú is basic. Yet ragú makes sense.

We go out of our way to be authentic. We were touring around Naples and stumbled across a small restaurant. They were serving ragú. If there was anything else on the menu we have suppressed the memory. The owner and her boyfreind explained what they were trying to achieve. "We are interested what happens in the pot over a long period of cooking." "We see how the meat and the onions fall apart and merge and we think this is the way.", he said, making a hand gesture. They showed us two pots, one which held a single last portion and another which was for the following day. We stood there eating the last portion of ragú with pasta and a glass of Aglianico "from the village". The ragú was deep and silky and had nuances of balsamico.

When we got back to Germany we were standing in the kitchen, caught each others eyes and said: "Ragú!" and made the hand gesture. You don't need a recipe. Ragú is an attitude. We got a female duck and had the poultry monger break it down. Into the pot went two thighs, onions and tomatoes, two mealy potatoes, some figs, bay leaves and anis. After two hours we added a bottle of Breton apple cider and more onions. Nine hours at very low heat later we had a Saturday midnight ragú with fried sage and a glass of organic Rioja. Salut!