Reason #463 to Jealously Guard Your Heart, plus a recipe for half-assed bolognese

Pere Bovary called this morning with tears in his voice, I immediately thought someone was dead or gravely injured. Well someone is, his body is intact, but his heart is smashed. My little brother flew to the Carribean to meet with his True Love for a week in the sand, before he sells his house, has quitted his job and swapped continents for a woman. She flew in, quit him, and flew out again. I suppose there are worse fates then to be left in the tropics with so many flavors of alcohol and twee umbrellas, but somehow I think that all of that sand and cavorting couples might be the devil's special.

I am heartbroken for him.

And now for the half-assed bolognese.

For the next to last Carnavale, and the hottness that is evil brother Justin, and with 4o minutes to spare (we watch the East Coast feed as we are codgers and need our rest)

Take three sweet Italian sausages (Aidell's Neiman Ranch, if you can get them)
remove casings and crumble.

Finely chop six shallots, three large cloves of garlic.

Sautee shallots and garlic until translucent, add sausage, brown.

while browning, add several really generous pinches of herbes de provence, lotsa pepper, lotsa salt ( I used red Hawaiian salt, that has a marvelous clay taste... but, whatever)

add three gulps of whiskey - reduce
add largish cup of red wine reduce

if you can get them, add half can of San Marzano tomatoes
if you can't add three quarters of a box of Pomi chopped tomatoes, stir.

add three swirls of the sugar container.

Simmer, watch Carnavale, hold breath for quiet moment, run to kitchen, add remaining tomatoe sauce, more salt for good measure, approx. four dashes of green tabasco. Run back to TV.

simmer to end of program.
Finish with two happy dollops of creme fraiche and an equally happy pat of butter, garnish with a "chiffonade" of Italian parsley, eat while watching Simpson's. Mmmm - half-assed bolognese.

think that cette putain de petasse de chagasse de connasse qui pue chokes on a stale baguette on her flight back to Paris.