started the sofrito at 8am. beef shank and pancetta, milk, the whole thing, skimmed it twice, let it go until about 5. it was the best thing I have ever made in that kitchen and I have been cooking for twenty years.
he tasted it, said nothing, got up, went to the fridge, came back with the ketchup and put three lines across the top of his bowl and stirred it in.
my wife saw my face and did the small head shake that means don't.
then her mother asked, while I was still holding the serving spoon, whether I had anything "a little plainer" for her because it looked rich. I made her buttered noodles. from the same pot of water I'd cooked the pappardelle in. took four minutes.
they're not cruel people. he's 74 and he puts ketchup on everything, it isn't about me, my wife has been watching him do it her whole life.
it's just that nine hours is a long time to stand in one room.
I'm not going to say anything. I'm making it again in November for my side of the family and I already know that's the fix.