I always ate spaghetti bolognese really quickly as a child. I remember it was always a source of pride for me that I finished my spaghetti bolognese before everyone else finished their spaghetti bolognese.
It was always a dish of choice at Golders Hill Park café, perhaps a continuation of the Italian theme that was fostered in their over-priced ice cream corner.
There was an unfortunate story passed on to me from Wibsy which involved the involuntary regurgitation of said dish, and the distinctive element to the tale was in the resemblance of the spew to the meal that had been digested just a few hours previous to this ghastly event.
Finally, a reminiscence of Uncle G cooking spaghetti bolognese in our house (he didn’t live there). I remember being struck at the simplicity and effectiveness displayed in the production of the nosh. We went to the shop and bought a tin of chopped tomatoes, and before I knew it the meal was made. What a hero.