I developed this Bolognese in honor of this really cheap bolognese knock off that I could buy in Germany. The only store that carries it is the budget grocer of budget grocers, Penny. There on their shelves sits the little jars with red tops unassuming and at eye’s height. If you didn’t know to look, you would never find them. The jars blend in seamlessly with the other endless and unassuming jarred products in their banal packaging that blanket even the finest German grocery shops. There is little room in the Germanic mentality for excess, even in purchasing living essentials. When I would return to the US those years, I would first want to visit the grocery store. There I would walk through the bright, colorful, flashing aisles in the labyrinth of these giant warehouse markets with music and taste tests like I was visiting the carnival. Back to the bolognese: this cheap knock-off bolognese was one of the first flavors of adulthood I had at 18. The summer after high school and before I was supposed to head to college, I spent 4 days visiting a friend of mine who had his own apartment in Bremen. We had no money and he had nothing except a bed, tv, piles of weed, cigarettes and a futon at his “place”. A coffee pot sat on the stove, but revealed fully grown mold when it was opened. The bookshelves were covered in graffiti. Our first stop was the store. To buy bottles of Becks, boxes of Sangria, cheap pasta and, yes, this bolognese. I cannot say I remember much of those days except bursts of joyous screaming and running, flashing lights, squatted outdoor club spaces with mismatched couches and some friends of his getting arrested for graffitiing the trains. The city was all on three stories and there was a deeply multicultural neighborhood that reeked of creativity and expression (and ganja). The bolognese, I remember clearly. It has this distinct flavor that has little to do with any traditional bolognese at all, similar to ramen noodle packets in the US. They taste delicious and reminiscent of the “real thing”, but are completely and totally their own. Ironically, this recipe is the “real thing” tweaked to taste like the msg riddled, don’t ask what the “meat” is, mystery of jarred freedom. It is for anyone who has a taste for irresponsibility, without consequence.