My husband likes nothing more than a good ragù. His perfect meal would involve something saucy, bright, and rich with a bit of meat, falling over a dish of toothsome pasta. A good ragù is nearly a religious experience for him. It expresses the ultimate goodness of the world, a place where people feed one another good food in love and honesty. So when a fennel and sausage ragù at a local restaurant invoked this mystical moment, giving him a cross-eyed moment of pleasure, I felt that the gauntlet was thrown in my lap.