Šporki Makaruli: Dubrovnik’s “Dirty Macaroni” Beef Ragù

Šporki makaruli, often translated as “dirty macaroni,” carries a name that sounds playful, yet the dish tells a precise story about Dubrovnik’s social customs, feast days, and careful thrift in the kitchen. In the old Republic of Ragusa, households prepared a generous meat ragù for the Feast of St. Blaise, the city’s patron saint. The finest cuts went on platters for aristocrats and honoured guests; at the end of the celebrations, what remained was the deeply flavoured sauce, streaked with tiny morsels of meat. That sauce met makaruli, tubular pasta in the local dialect, leaving the pasta stained or “dirty” with meat juices. 

The modern version served in homes and restaurants in Dubrovnik no longer feels like a leftover dish. It sits proudly on winter menus and feast tables as a complete plate: generous pieces of beef shank simmered with onions, garlic, tomato, warm spices, and red wine, spooned over pasta and finished with a firm local sheep’s cheese. Writers and local guides describe it as one of Dubrovnik’s defining dishes, closely linked to the festivities of St. Blaise and to the colder months, when a heavy, fragrant sauce feels exactly right. 

At the core lies beef, usually shank or another collagen-rich cut that rewards slow cooking. The official recipe from the Dubrovnik tourist board leans on lard or olive oil, a large quantity of onion, tomato concentrate, grape molasses, prunes, and a trio of spices—clove, nutmeg, and cinnamon—combined with red wine and parsley. This combination gives the ragù a layered character: savoury depth from the beef and onions, gentle sweetness from dried fruit and grape molasses, and aromatic warmth from the spices. The sweetness needs balance; careful seasoning and a patient simmer keep the sauce rounded rather than sugary.

That spice profile sets šporki makaruli apart from a standard Italian ragù. Clove, cinnamon, and nutmeg hint at older trade routes and shared Mediterranean influences, where cooks folded spices from distant markets into local meat dishes. TasteAtlas lists these same ingredients among the characteristic elements of the dish, alongside makaruli pasta, pork fat, garlic, bay leaves, and red wine. The resulting sauce feels familiar to anyone who loves long-simmered meat and pasta, yet distinctly Dubrovnik in its details.

Texturally, the dish sits between a stew and a ragù. Beef shank, cut into cubes rather than minced, softens over nearly two hours until the fibres relax and the connective tissue melts into the sauce. Onions almost disappear, carrying flavour rather than texture, while prunes and grape molasses melt into the background, lending colour and a faint fruity note. The sauce clings to the pasta rather than drowning it; the pasta should appear streaked and speckled, not buried under a thick blanket. That “dirty” look is part of the character.

For a home cook, šporki makaruli rewards patience more than technical bravado. Once the onions sweat gently without browning and the meat sears lightly, the rest of the dish involves steady, low simmering and occasional stirring. The spices benefit from restraint—too much cinnamon or clove can push the dish toward dessert territory—so this version stays close to measured amounts in local sources. A small quantity of prunes introduces depth without drawing attention to itself; grape molasses, or a careful substitute, contributes a rounded sweetness and deeper colour.

Served in warm bowls with plenty of grated hard sheep’s cheese, šporki makaruli works as a complete meal. It suits a winter Sunday, a feast in honour of Dubrovnik, or any evening when a pan of slow-cooked meat feels right. This recipe follows the structure of the official Dubrovnik tourist board version, with modest adjustments for modern kitchens and clear measurement guidelines, aimed at cooks who want to reproduce the dish with confidence far from the city walls.