This is a rewarding dish to make. At the end you get a real kick out of the flavour that has developed – the sophisticated, robust braise. There is real satisfaction in the way the pork and beef are balanced, the way the crust on the meat almost has the quality of barbecue, and the undertones of that much fennel and nutmeg. This recipe is from many, many years of cooking and refining ragu. It takes a lot of the principles of a big restaurant batch and makes them work at home.

There are lots of recipes like this, but they all have too much tomato in them. I wouldn’t call this a red sauce. It’s a stock-based ragu, flavoured with a stain of colour and a hint of acidity from the tomato.

The flavour gathers momentum and intensity as it gently braises in the oven, and once tender and just starting to fall apart, it’s done. The skin on the pork is meltingly soft and adds a luscious, velvety mouthfeel to this sauce as it slickly coats fresh pasta.

A few hints. Pay attention as you brown the meat. You want to push the deep colour but you want to make sure you don’t burn it. It all has to do with the temperature of your stove. At the end you want a residual crust on the pot, like a bark, which will be key to the flavours that develop. As you add the vegetables and onions, the sweat will deglaze the pan. In this dish I prefer to do this rather than use wine.

When you do add wine, use a wine you would be happy to drink. It doesn’t have to be outstanding, but if it’s awful the dish will be, too.

The large chunks can be tossed through with wide-cut egg pasta – either as is, or with the meat shredded a little, but not too much. With a ragu like this I really crave fresh pasta. It’s worth the effort to roll out wide sheets and cut a gorgeous, super-fat pappardelle. It can also happily be served with mashed potato or polenta, in which case there is no need to break apart any of the beef chunks.

Serve it with finely grated parmigiano reggiano. The sauce deserves it and so do you.