As much as I adore the February sun, I find myself a fickle friend of the weather. Soon enough I crave woollen knits, baked rhubarb and pork shoulder ragu. The cycle will start again, oh yes, but for now it’s a beautiful feeling to be so giddy at the thought of new season delights, as we find ourselves on the cusp of change.
This ragu, so dear and tender, was slow-cooked for my love last month. That was a magical week, with sandy toes and fresh mussels, slow-dancing and tiramisu…
Though far from comfort-food season at the time, I insisted on serving this dish, influenced by his inclination for rich pasta dishes and my desire to please his sensibilities. We were celebrating our wedding anniversary, after all.
Now if only I could make Ben a wild boar ragu, I’m fairly certain he would propose all over again.