Name: Italian Pot Roast Stracotto With Gorgonzola Polenta
Prep time: 25 min
Cook time: 3 h
Total time: 3 h 25 min
Yield: 6 servings
Cuisine: Italian
Ingredients: 3 lb beef chuck roast; 2 tablespoons olive oil; 1 large onion, chopped; 3 garlic cloves, minced; 2 carrots, sliced; 2 cups dry red wine; 1 (28 oz) can crushed tomatoes; 1 tablespoon tomato paste; 2 sprigs fresh rosemary; 2 cups beef broth; Salt and black pepper to taste; 1 1/2 cups polenta; 4 cups water; 1 cup whole milk; 4 oz Gorgonzola cheese, crumbled; 2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Folks—Let Me Tell You About My Stracotto Obsession

I have this thing where savory, slow-cooked dinners feel like a warm hug; Stracotto is basically the king of all slow food in my kitchen. The first time I made Italian Pot Roast Stracotto With Gorgonzola Polenta wasn’t exactly a triumph—my kitchen looked like tiny meat tornado had passed through, and I may or may not have splashed more red wine on the floor than into the pot. But honestly? Even that first, slightly chaotic attempt was pure heaven. There’s something about rich beef, tender veggies, and an embarrassingly creamy polenta (blame the Gorgonzola for that) that just floors me every time. My brother once called it ‘fancy grandma food’—which I choose to take as high praise. Anyway, this one’s become my go-to for lazy Sundays and, weirdly, rainy Wednesdays. (Try cooking it in socks—makes it even cozier, promise.)

Why I Keep Coming Back To This Recipe

I make this when I need a dinner that does most of the heavy lifting itself (yes, I’m talking about you, Dutch oven), or when my family starts dropping hints about real, old-school comfort food. My cousin swears I only cook this when I need to impress someone, which would be true if I wasn’t making it for myself half the time. The polenta with Gorgonzola is totally indulgent, but also a tiny bit mischievous—I used to be scared of blue cheese, now I sneak extra in. There was a batch where I forgot the bay leaf and nobody noticed; but leave out the wine and, well, you will taste the difference (unfortunately). I also love that this is one of those dishes that somehow gets better if you just leave it alone. Of course, that means hours of smelling amazing food while pretending not to pick at it—which is tragically difficult.

What You’ll Need (But Honestly, Improv Is Welcome)

About 3 lbs (1.4kg) beef chuck roast—I sometimes grab brisket if it’s cheaper, it works, too
2 onions, sliced (my great aunt swears by red onions, but white ones are usually what I have)
4 carrots, chopped into chunks (or just toss in baby carrots if you’re as impatient as me)
2 celery stalks, sliced
4 garlic cloves, smashed (I use more, but I might be part vampire)
2 tbsp tomato paste, but in a pinch ketchup worked embarrassingly well
1 cup dry red wine—honestly, whatever you’re drinking
1 can (14 oz) diced tomatoes—fresh is nice, but…let’s be real
2 cups beef stock, or enough to *almost* cover the meat
2 bay leaves (sometimes I forget these and it’s still tasty)
Rosemary—fresh if possible, but dried’s fine (just a generous pinch)
Olive oil, salt, pepper
For the Polenta:
1 cup polenta (medium grind is my preference, but I’ve used cornmeal in a pinch; it’s…okay)
4 cups water, or half water/half milk if you’re feeling luxurious
2 tbsp butter (or, honestly, a little splash of cream if you have it)
100g Gorgonzola, crumbled (my store rarely has it—once used Roquefort and it turned out fine, just punchier)
Salt, pepper

This Is How I Do It (But Don’t Stress About Perfection)

Brown the Beef—Pat your beef dry and season it with salt and pepper. Heat up olive oil in a big Dutch oven (or, frankly, a deep pot with a lid—I’ve used my old soup pot in a pinch), and brown the meat on all sides. I get impatient here, but a good crust really is worth the little bit of waiting. Take it out and set aside.
Soften the Veggies—In the same pot (don’t you dare wash it, that brown stuff is gold), toss in your onions, carrots, celery, and a pinch of salt. Let them soften up—about 8 minutes, maybe less if you keep stirring. This is usually where someone wanders in and asks what smells amazing.
The Flavor Bomb—Add your garlic and tomato paste, stir for 2 minutes. Pour in the wine (taste it first, obviously), and scrape up any stuck-on bits. Let it bubble madly for a few minutes—this is the bit where things start smelling grownup.
Pile It In—Add tomatoes, stock, bay leaves, and rosemary. Give it a brisk stir, then nestle the beef back in. Bring just to a simmer, put the lid on, and turn the heat low. Or, if you’re like me, toss it in a 300°F (150°C) oven instead and forget about it for 3 hours. I peek occasionally, but you don’t have to. If by any chance it looks a bit thin halfway through, I just crack the lid for the last hour.
Polenta Time—About 40 minutes before you want to eat, start the polenta. Bring water (or water/milk) and a good pinch of salt to a simmer. Whisk in the polenta slowly. Stir it now and then, don’t wander too far—it thickens fast and sticks to the pot (learned that the hard way). Once creamy, stir in the butter and Gorgonzola. Taste. Add more cheese, you know you want to.
Finish Line—Take out the beef, slice or shred it (I like chunky pieces), return to the sauce. Taste everything for seasoning. Don’t worry if it looks a little….homely? The flavor is what matters.
Spoon polenta in wide bowls and top generously with meat and sauce. Stand back and admire your work (or just dig in, really).

Random Notes That Might Help (Because, Trust Me…)

If your beef seems stubborn and tough, it probably just needs more time. I’ve tried to rush it. Big mistake.
For the Gorgonzola, start with less, then add as you go. Can’t really take out too much blue cheese. (But can definitely add more!)
The sauce can look oily as it sits—skim it or stir it in, it won’t hurt anything. Sometimes I just call it ‘rustic’.

The Stuff I’ve Tried (And, Umm, Sometimes Failed)

Once tried this with pork shoulder instead of beef—tasty, but definitely different. Wouldn’t call it Stracotto but it scratched the itch.
Used instant polenta once. It was quick, but honestly, kind of sad. Maybe good for emergencies, but I’d rather wait.
Tried tossing in parsnips—they took over. Not recommended, unless you’re a big parsnip enthusiast.

Do You Need Fancy Tools? (Short answer: Not really)

I love using my Dutch oven here—it looks impressive and holds heat like a champ—but you can absolutely use any heavy pot with a lid. I even tried the slow cooker once, and aside from awkwardly squeezing everything in, it worked fine. Needed another pan for browning, but no biggie. Don’t have a whisk for your polenta? I’ve resorted to a fork when desperate, works in a pinch (just mind those clumps!).

Italian Pot Roast Stracotto With Gorgonzola Polenta

Storing Leftovers (If You Can Hang Onto Any)

Honestly, in my house, this is demolished by morning. But if your crowd has more willpower, leftovers keep covered in the fridge for about 3 days. The sauce thickens, the flavors mingle—somehow, it’s even better the next night. You can freeze Stracotto (meat and sauce, not the polenta), but fair warning, it’ll never be quite as lush when defrosted.

Serving This: My Favorite Traditions (And Odd Rituals)

I love slopping the polenta onto big plates, letting it sprawl out so there’s room for a pool of sauce. Sometimes I go for chopped parsley and a grind of black pepper on top, but most of the time it’s just fork-to-mouth. My mum likes a little extra Gorgonzola crumbled cold on her serving; it kind of melts as you eat. Oh, and garlic bread on the side? Not traditional, but honestly, who’s complaining?

Pro Tips (aka, How I Learned The Hard Way)

Don’t skimp on the browning step. I once rushed and ended up with pallid, sad beef. Depth of flavor here is no joke.
Stir your polenta often. Like, really often. Otherwise, you’ll end up chiseling it out of your pot, which is never fun.
If you let the beef go too long and it falls apart completely—no worries. Call it ‘Tuscan pulled beef’ and nobody will be mad.

FAQs From Real Humans (Not Just Me!)

Q: Can the Stracotto be made ahead?
A: Oh, absolutely. I think this tastes even better the next day. Just reheat gently, and maybe loosen the sauce with a splash of broth.

Q: I can’t find Gorgonzola—what else works?
A: No shame in improvising—try blue cheese crumbles, Roquefort, even goat cheese (for a wilder ride). Mozzarella if you’re feeling mellow—but skip Parmesan here, it’s not creamy enough on its own.

Q: Is this really Italian? My friend from Milan says she’s never had it!
A: Well, Stracotto shows up all over Northern Italy, but every family’s got their own twist. Milanese nonnas might use more spices or even toss in some porcini. Don’t let regional purists stress you out—it’s comfort food, not a history lesson.

Q: What wine should I use?
A: Use what you’d drink—Chianti’s classic, but really, anything dry and red will work. I used supermarket malbec and lived to tell the tale.

Finally—A Weird Little Digression

I once made this during a blackout (don’t ask), using an old camp stove and a headlamp. It took forever, but actually came out great, and the whole house smelled like a medieval banquet. So, yes, I’m saying you can make this even during life’s little disasters. Want more slow-braised ideas? There’s a great read on Serious Eats about Stracotto’s roots and another lovely polenta breakdown on The Kitchn if you’re interested.

However you make it: tuck in, feel cozy, and try not to burn your tongue on that piping-hot Gorgonzola polenta (I still do, every time!).

Italian Pot Roast Stracotto With Gorgonzola Polenta—My Cozy Sunday Ritual