Ragù alla Bolognese

30th March 2025

Big things at last with our weekend to Bologna, but before we get there, there’s the usual nonsense to dispose of…

…starting with Monday, when I had to apologise to young Rita in the middle of talking about Gothic novels and Dracula in particular to deal with a mystery man of my own. I had vaguely hoped that the white van I spied coming down the road had Luigi in it, but really I knew it was too small for their transit, and the man who emerged from the driver’s seat had a good few years on our neighbour. “Sergio?” he said, smiling and rubbing his hands in that ‘let’s get to business’ way, then, seeing my slightly puzzled look, “Sergio e i cavalli.” I had no idea who Sergio was, nor where he could find the horses, and apologised for not knowing, just to be polite.

Undaunted, the man went into an explanation, saying something about his son and turning by the wood but I can’t say I was paying much attention, being aware of Rita waiting patiently, and eventually the man made to get back in his van. I gave our usual advice about getting up the road, first gear and go fast, then went back to Skype while keeping half an eye on his progress. For a disturbing moment it looked like he was going to come to a scrabbling halt at the crux of the climb, not attacking it with the vigour needed. Fortunately, he just made it, leaving me to heave a sigh of relief that I didn’t have to abandon Rita totally.

A vague attempt at drier weather gave an opening for Stephen to give the grass a bit of a cut on Monday afternoon, a job he described as like using a spoon and pusher (ask you parents… better still, ask your grandparents); Pina was heaving on Tuesday morning, the regulars gathering in a perfect storm moment; there was no Giulia again Tuesday evening, meaning another week with no lesson as I was away yesterday; and then Thursday evening, after a very rainy day, we took Harry to the kennels. He seemed happy to be back, and there were lots of dogs around for him to bark at/with.

Which brings us to Friday morning and our early start. Our train left Civitanova just after eight am, so we were up and out of the house by seven. That was all right by us as it meant we were in Bologna for 11 o’clock and at the hotel, conveniently situated across the road, shortly after. We had thought to leave our luggage and check in later, at the official time of 15.00, but the very helpful man on reception consulted his monitor and said there was a room available (a junior suite, no less, meaning it had a settee) so we could check in there and then. And it got even better for Stephen, who became very excited to discover that on this occasion the bathroom was no misnomer as it did, indeed, have a bath. Fortunately, after so many years deprivation, he was able to delay his gratification till later and we hit the town.

A walk up Via Indipendenza took us to Piazza Maggiore and the heart of the city centre where, after a bit of a recce, we had a light lunch at the Armani café before heading to Scout (the newer and smaller of their two stores in the city) to make a start on augmenting our summer wardrobes, and then a few other places, including the WP Store where Stephen was taken by a shirt, a unique piece of reworked clothing, but settled instead for a boucle cushion of a raccoon’s face.

It was back to the hotel to rest and freshen up, meaning bathtime for one member of the party, and then it was out for the evening. Aperitivi at Le Stanze, a bar in an old, private church where in the main room you can sit beneath the old painted ceilings, and where Stephen has wanted to go for ages but didn’t feel it was the sort of place to enjoy on his own.  We then went for pizze at Pino, the place, just of Via Indipendenza, where Stephen has been going for more years than he cares to remember, but stopped on the way at the Cannabis shop for me to stock up. We had tried to do that in the afternoon, but despite the sign saying it opened at 15.00, the man must have been too relaxed to make it on time.

The couple running Pino we very pleased to see Stephen, and not just because he had two pairs of shoes with him to give to the man. The last time he ate there, in February, his wife had remarked that in all the time Stephen had been coming to them, going back to the days when the shoe fair used to be in Bologna, he’d never brought any shoes with him. Well, he has now, and very fine shoes they were too. Also very fine were the pizze, which we polished off with a bottle of red wine and a couple of coffees before an early-ish night back at the hotel as it had been a long, and enjoyably busy, day.

The disappointing weather of Friday continued yesterday, but the grey skies and occasional drizzle didn’t daunt use from striding out shortly after nine and heading, again, for Via Indipendenza. Our mission for the morning was Shopping: Phase Two, but we hit a bit of a snag as none of the shops, at least the ones we wanted to go to, opened before ten. No problem, we just took a tour of the warren of side streets, stopping to buy a couple of (small but pleasingly presented) bottles of Balsamic Vinegar of Moderna – tradizionale of course. Zara Home, Zara clothes and Scout (the original and larger store) provided us with a pleasing haul though the highlight had to be the Lego Store. €300 for a kit to make the National History Museum might seem excessive, but my, it looked fabulous.

We were due at MAMbo, the Museum of Modern Art, at two o’clock, the time I had booked the tickets for online, so after dropping our ill-gotten gains off at the hotel we headed over in that direction, looking for somewhere for lunch on the way. We had just about given up, the museum not being on the main drag, when a noodle restaurant came to our rescue and a bowl full of carbohydrates each – and Stephen’s day-glow green ramune soda - upped our energy (and sugar in one case) levels for the afternoon.

I don’t want to appear a philistine or a reactionary, but while I’m happy we went to MAMbo, it wasn’t the most interesting collection of art I’ve ever seen, and some sections could have done with a spot of judicious curating, but it was notable for Stephen being told off when one of the many superannuated attendants stuttered into life to stop him going behind a static jacquard weaving machine. What damage he thought Stephen would do to a hulking piece of machinery is as moot a point as why it wasn’t cordoned off, not to mention what it was doing there in the first place.

An hour was long enough to satisfy our creative curiosity, which left plenty of time for Stephen to go and take a second look at the shirt he was mulling over the previous day, and after the assistant persuaded him to try it on, he managed to bring himself to decide to let me buy it for him – as a birthday present – and we threw in another cushion, this time a bear in silhouette, because why not?

Buca Manzoni was, after considering several others during the week, the spot Stephen settled on for dinner, a traditional Bolognese trattoria, accessed down some steps under one of the city’s many portici (or porticoes if you prefer). He had decided just in time, because when he called to book on the Wednesday, the only tables they had were one at six o’clock (did they think we were tourists?) or nine – a mark of popularity in a country where deciding the day before is considered thinking ahead.

We’d planned to head back up into the centre for an aperitivo, but not wanting to undo the benefit of kicking our shoes off back at our room for a couple of hours we opted instead for a g&t in the hotel bar. It was still a good fifteen-minute walk to the restaurant, but well worth it as the food was excellent and company more than a little lively, thanks to most of the tables on the opposite side to us being taken up with a stag party. That they were more than a little exuberant goes without saying, and whilst there were times when our conversation was not so much drowned out as completely obliterated, they added a buoyant vibe to the evening – though I suspect that’s not how most of them felt the next day.

Our train today was not till four, and packing our bags and leaving them at the hotel till the afternoon gave us plenty of time in the morning for our second, pre-booked visit. This was to La Torre del Orologio, or clock tower if you prefer, part of the original medieval structure that was added to over the next couple of centuries to make the impressive building that fronts onto Piazza Maggiore and which houses, amongst other things, the council offices. It was a fascinating visit, not least the climb up the tower, which became increasingly cramped as you neared the top with its 360° view across the surrounding plains. The tour also included access to the apartments on the second floor, which now house a very fine and comprehension art collection, including some very interesting rooms of modern art, as well as a wealth of painted ceilings. Should you ever find yourself in Bologna, it is highly recommended.

And that was almost it. Lasagne for lunch in a restaurant that merits further investigation next time we are in the area, a return to the hotel to pick up our bags and then to the station in good time for the train, which arrived twenty minutes ahead of schedule, meaning it left on time. It still managed, however, to be ten minutes late in Civitanova, and our exit from the car park was delayed a further ten minutes due to the queue waiting to pay at the one machine on the extensive site. Despite this, we were still home before 8 o’clock, giving us enough time to relax with one for the tonsils followed by pizza and The Gilmore Girls – what better way to finish off?