Pasta With Rich and Hearty Mushroom Bolognese Recipe

A rich, hearty mushroom, tomato, and red wine ragù—perfect for a midwinter's eve.

A plate of ridged crestos di gallos pasta that's been tossed with mushroom Bolognese sauce.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji Lopez-Alt

Why This Recipe Works

  • Adding parsley and basil in two stages—to the soffritto as well as at the end of cooking—infuses the ragù with nuanced cooked-herb notes as well as a more intense fresh-herb flavor.
  • Frying chopped mushrooms in olive oil until they are chewy and reduced to a quarter of their original volume concentrates their flavor and gives them a texture that is a good stand-in for the ground meat usually found in Bolognese.
  • Miso paste, soy sauce, and a mix of mushrooms give the ragù a complex savory flavor.
  • Adding finely chopped roasted eggplant thickens the ragù, giving it a glossy, rich texture.

I've got to admit it. As much as I love vegan food, there's one thing I do miss about winter: the smell of a slow-cooked Bolognese sauce filling the apartment on a cold day. It's one of my favorite parts of the season. It's not that I love the meatiness per se. It's not necessarily about the contrast between the cold outside and the warmth within. It's not even really about getting to eat the sauce that evening. What it's about is that smell being a constant reminder to you that you are in the middle of a project, the middle of creating something great. It's a good feeling to have, knowing that you're being productive.

Bolognese is one of my favorite sauces to make, and I've been doing it with regularity and precision for the last 12 years. I'm pretty damn good at it. I make it so often that I believe I have a built-in correlation in my mind between the scent of Bolognese sauce and that feeling of productivity. It's to the point that even if I smell someone else making it, I feel like I've accomplished something. My goal with this vegan version is to create a 100% meat-free sauce that benefits from a long, slow braise, and produces an end result that is every bit as rich, hearty, a deeply flavorful as my own Bolognese recipe.

The Base

There were a few big hurdles to tackle here. How would I pack rich flavor into an intense sauce made only with vegetables? What techniques could I use to bump that flavor up? What about nailing the texture of the finished sauce? It must be thick and rich enough to coat pasta, and have a variation of textures ranging from creamy to chewy. I dealt with each problem as it came up, using some of the techniques I've learned from my standard Bolognese sauce as the jumping-off point.

A halved and peeled onion on a cutting board. Whole carrots and celery lay behind.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

My traditional Bolognese sauce starts out with a traditional Italian soffritto of carrots, onions, and celery (the equivalent of the French mirepoix), gently cooked in really good olive oil. The goal is to soften the vegetables without actually browning them so that their raw edge goes away but they don't become overly sweet.

Soffritto being cooked in a wide saucepan.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

While those vegetables soften, I chop my herbs.

Sage leaves piled on a cutting board next to a pile of parsley, which is partly out of frame.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

Many chefs recommend not adding delicate herbs like basil and parsley until the very end of cooking, because they're at their most flavorful when completely fresh. And those chefs are right, at least about the flavor bit. But here's the thing: cooked herb flavor might not be as intense as fresh herb flavor, but it's different, and desirable in its own way.

The herb-flecked soffritto is stirred in the pan.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

That's why I almost always add my herbs in two stages: first during cooking to develop and permeate the dish with cooked herb flavors, and then again towards the end to add some fresh herb flavor.

With hearty herbs like sage, rosemary, or thyme, you can get away with only adding them towards the beginning (they can be overpoweringly strong if added at the end).

Red wine and bay leaves are added to the pan.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

Next up: red wine. Wine adds a few things to the sauce. Primarily, it's a source of acidity, giving the sauce brightness and balancing out the richer flavors we're going to add later. It's also a good source of glutamates, the molecules responsible for bolstering the savoriness of a dish. With a meaty ragù, it makes the meat taste meatier. In a vegan ragù, it's even more important.

Reducing the wine separately is important for optimal flavor development (read up on that science here). I let the wine reduce along with a few bay leaves until it's nearly dry, creating an intensely flavorful base for the sauce.

The mixture all gets transferred to a large saucepan where it waits for friends to join it.

So far, the method is identical to what I'd do for a standard Bolognese sauce. Time to mix things up.

Adding Texture

Almost every recipe I've come across for vegan Bolognese sauce relies on a product like tempeh, textured vegetable protein, or firm tofu to add texture to the sauce in place of meat. I personally find TVP and tempeh to be lacking in flavor, and tofu's texture doesn't make it the best meat replacement. Besides, why try and replicate the flavor and texture of meat when there are so many other delicious options out there?

I turned to a technique I've gotten great success with in the past: frying mushrooms until well-browned and chewy.

Author squishing a button mushroom cap with his thumb and forefinger.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

The method worked wonderfully with my vegan mapo tofu and vegan dan dan noodles. No reason it shouldn't work now, right?

A pile of mushroom pieces.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

To chop mushrooms, I start by squeezing them between my fingertips and thumb to break them down into mid-sized chunks.

The pile of squeezed mushroom pieces is chopped with a chef's knife.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

From there, I take a knife to 'em and chop until the pieces are no larger than 1/4-inch.

Diced shiitakes are piled on a cutting board next to stemmed shiitake caps and a knife blade.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

Using a blend of mushrooms—in this case buttons and shiitakes—can add complexity to the dish.

The blend of chopped mushrooms has been cooked down and browned in the wide saucepan.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

A full pan of mushrooms cooked in olive oil should reduce down to about a quarter of its starting volume, once the mushrooms are nice and browned.

Tomato products perform a role very similar to wine in a Bolognese sauce, adding acidity and savoriness. Tomato paste is also great for adding body to a sauce. To get the best flavor out of it, you should add it to a hot pan slicked with nothing but oil. Like a Thai curry paste or an Indian spice powder, frying the paste in oil will help you develop sweet, complex flavors that otherwise would never come forward.

A spoonful of white miso is added to the pan of browned mushrooms and tomato paste.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

I knew that my sauce was going to need all the help it could get in the savory flavor department, so I also added a dollop of miso paste and a drizzle of soy sauce; both ingredients are glutamate bombs.

Adding Richness and Body

After adding the mushroom mixture to my cooked-down soffritto and a can of tomatoes that I crushed by hand, I noticed one major thing: The sauce was still pretty thin. I let the whole thing simmer down for an hour, hoping that it would tighten up. It never really did. The liquid element reduced, but it didn't get much thicker or richer, while the chunks of mushroom stayed completely intact. The sauce was simply not integrated as a whole.

What could I add to produce a binding texture that wouldn't weigh the sauce down or make it blander?

A whole purple eggplant resting on a cutting board.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

I thought back to a recipe for turkey burgers I developed several years ago. In that recipe, I used the chopped flesh from a roasted eggplant to bind my meat, adding moisture and a tender texture. I figured with my pasta sauce, a similar trick would work.

A whole roasted eggplant, cradled in the foil it was roasted in. Some of the skin has been removed and the flesh has prodded apart.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

I roasted an eggplant in a foil pouch until completely tender inside, then scraped out the flesh with a spoon.

Finely-chopped roasted eggplant mounded on a cutting board.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

I chopped it up into a fine purée, then stirred it into a new batch of sauce, letting it simmer just a bit.

The trick worked like a charm, adding a glossy richness to the sauce while simultaneously giving it a bit of eggplant's signature lightly smoky aroma.

I'm not a big nut milk drinker—they all taste a little too sweet and chalky to me—but a dash of it stirred into the sauce as it reduces was perfect for aiding in good emulsification of the olive oil and liquids, without detracting anything from the flavor department.

After an hour of simmering, this is about what you get:

The finished vegan Bolognese sauce. A wooden spoon lifts some of the chunky, mushroom-laden sauce above the surface.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

Now doesn't that look like something worth waiting for? Your kitchen should smell awesome by this point. Breathe that accomplishment in deeply, you deserve it. Now taste the sauce. Feel its texture on your tongue: creamy, with vegetable pieces of varying degrees of firmness and chewiness rolling across your tongue. Taste the flavors, rich, deep, well-developed, and, above all, balanced. It should taste like a sauce that someone took their time with because, well, it is.

The final key to serving the sauce is to make sure to finish your pasta in it for a few minutes. I like to serve a rich ragù like this with either wide pasta like tagliatelle or pappardelle, or with short tubular pasta like rigatoni, penne, or these cute little crestos di gallos (cock's combs). I cook the pasta until it's not quite al dente, then add it to the sauce along with a half cup or so of its starchy cooking liquid before simmering the whole lot over high heat.

Overhead view of mushroom Bolognese tossed with crestos de gallos pasta, served in a shallow white bowl.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

As the sauce reduces, the pasta finishes cooking, absorbing its flavor while simultaneously getting fully coated.

When you serve pasta with sauce, it should look integrated, the sauce and the pasta an inseparable unit. If you lift your pasta and the sauce runs off, leaving you with bare noodle, it needs to be reduced a little more!

A forkful of mushroom Bolognese and pasta held up to the camera.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

The journey might already be the destination in this case, but that won't stop you from enjoying your reward. Your rich, lip-smackingly delicious, meat-free reward.

February 2014

Recipe Details

Pasta With Rich and Hearty Mushroom Bolognese Recipe

Active 45 mins
Total 2 hrs
Serves 6 servings

A rich, hearty mushroom, tomato, and red wine ragù—perfect for a midwinter's eve.


  • 1 medium eggplant

  • 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil, divided, plus more for serving

  • Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

  • 1 medium onion, finely diced (about 1 cup)

  • 2 medium carrots, finely diced (about 1 cup)

  • 2 large ribs celery, finely diced (about 1 cup)

  • 1/4 cup finely chopped fresh sage leaves

  • 1/4 cup finely chopped fresh parsley leaves

  • 1/4 cup finely chopped fresh basil leaves

  • 4 medium cloves garlic, minced

  • 2 cups dry red wine

  • 3 bay leaves

  • 1 pound button mushrooms, finely chopped (see notes)

  • 12 ounces shiitake mushrooms, stems discarded, caps finely chopped

  • 1/4 cup tomato paste

  • 2 tablespoons white or red miso paste

  • 1 (28-ounce) can whole peeled tomatoes packed in juice, crushed roughly by hand or with a potato masher

  • 2 tablespoons soy sauce

  • 3/4 cup almond milk

  • 1 pound short, tubular pasta like penne or rigatoni, or long wide pasta like pappardelle


  1. Adjust oven rack to center position and preheat oven to 375°F (190°C). Lay eggplant on a large sheet of aluminum foil. Drizzle with 1 teaspoon oil and season with salt and pepper. Wrap loosely in foil and transfer to a rimmed baking sheet. Roast until eggplant is completely softened, 45 minutes to 1 hour.

  2. While eggplant roasts, prepare sauce. Heat 3 tablespoons olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat until simmering. Add onions, carrots, and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until completely softened but not browned, about 10 minutes. Add sage, half of parsley, half of basil, and garlic, and cook, stirring frequently, until aromatic, about 2 minutes. Add red wine and bay leaves. Increase heat to medium-high and simmer until wine is reduced to nearly dry (you should be able to see the bottom of the pan easily), about 5 minutes. Transfer mixture to a large saucepan and wipe out skillet.

    The red wine has been reduced substantially, leaving the soffritto tinged purple.

    Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

  3. Add remaining oil to skillet and set over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add button mushrooms and shiitake and cook, stirring occasionally, until mushroom liquid completely evaporates and mushrooms are well-browned all over, about 20 minutes. Add tomato paste and miso and stir to combine. Pastes will leave a light residue on the bottom of the pan. This is ok.

    Tomato paste is stirred into the browned mushrooms.

    Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

  4. Add canned tomatoes and cook, scraping up the browned bits on the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon. Add mixture to pot with vegetables and reduced wine. Add soy sauce and almond milk.

    Almond milk and soy sauce are stirred into the sauce.

    Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

  5. When eggplant is cooked, remove from oven and let rest until cool enough to handle. Slit skin of eggplant and scrape out softened flesh gently with a spoon. Chop eggplant flesh into a fine purée and add to pot with sauce. Stir sauce to combine, bring to a bare simmer, reduce heat to lowest setting, and cover with lid slightly ajar. Cook, stirring occasionally, until sauce is rich and thick and flavors have fully developed, about 1 hour. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

  6. To serve, cook pasta according to package directions in salted water. Drain, reserving 1/2 cup of cooking liquid. Add pasta and cooking liquid to mushroom sauce. Add remaining chopped parsley and basil (reserving a little for garnish, if desired). Cook over high heat, stirring, until sauce is rich and thick and coats every piece of pasta. Transfer to a serving bowl or individual bowls, drizzle with more extra-virgin olive oil, and serve immediately.

Special Equipment

Large skillet, large saucepan


To chop button mushrooms in the food processor, roughly chop by hand, then pulse in food processor until chopped, about 8 short pulses. To chop by hand, start by breaking up the mushrooms with your fingers, crushing them and tearing apart the caps. Chop finely with a chef's knife.

To chop shiitake mushrooms, cut each cap lengthwise into 1/4-inch strips, then rotate 90° and cut into fine dice.

Read More

Nutrition Facts (per serving)
478 Calories
21g Fat
64g Carbs
13g Protein
Show Full Nutrition Label Hide Full Nutrition Label
Nutrition Facts
Servings: 6
Amount per serving
Calories 478
% Daily Value*
Total Fat 21g 27%
Saturated Fat 3g 15%
Cholesterol 0mg 0%
Sodium 724mg 31%
Total Carbohydrate 64g 23%
Dietary Fiber 13g 47%
Total Sugars 18g
Protein 13g
Vitamin C 35mg 174%
Calcium 83mg 6%
Iron 5mg 26%
Potassium 1360mg 29%
*The % Daily Value (DV) tells you how much a nutrient in a food serving contributes to a daily diet. 2,000 calories a day is used for general nutrition advice.
(Nutrition information is calculated using an ingredient database and should be considered an estimate.)