POOR MAN'S BOLOGNESE, is how I like to think of it, and if I were making it, I'd chop a quarter of a carrot into it — but I'm not making it, Cook is, and I don't argue with Cook. Not about cooking, anyway.
She browns some ground beef in the stainless steel skillet, and throws in an onion, chopped of course, and some crushed garlic, and salt and pepper, and a bay leaf, and some of that delicious tomato she canned last fall, and cooks it down, and tosses the cooked penne in it, and grates some Parmigiano over it, and that's it.
Green salad afterward, and tonight an apple.
I see I failed to report on yesterday. We went out to brunch with an old friend, at her club; she and my companion had Eggs Benedict, and perhaps I should have as well. Instead, wanting flavor and beans, I had huevos rancheros. They were a little tame.