Eti Raz, mother of the late Idan Raz 's Bolognese Sauce Recipe

“A Place at the Table” is a commemorative project that documents the favorite dishes of those lost on October 7 with the help of their families.  

Eti Raz sets a wide, flat clay pot on her stove on Kibbutz Ein HaMifratz near Akko. Her mother, Sima, sits nearby advising her on how to season the browned ground meat in the pot. Together, they work to recreate the Bolognese sauce that Eti’s late son Idan loved most, adjusting both the flavor and, equally important, the color. “You need to add more tomato paste,” Sima tells her daughter. “It should be red.”

“Idan was a ‘red’ boy,” says Eti. “He was a Hapo’el Tel Aviv fan [whose colors are red and white] through and through. He was all heart, and heart means red. He died in a bloodbath, which is also red, and everyone came to his funeral wearing red.”

He loved grandma Sima’s Bolognese from a young age. “He was a picky eater,” Eti says. “He loved cornflakes, schnitzel with fries, and dipping challah in the sauce from Shabbat chraimeh, but without the fish.” Whenever he was heading home from the base for the weekend he would say, “Mom, tell grandma Sima to make spaghetti Bolognese.”

On Thursday, October 5, he visited grandma Sima and had lunch with his girlfriend Yuval before his father drove him to the train station. That was the last time they saw him. He was supposed to spend the weekend of October 7 at home but there was a shortage of soldiers and he agreed to cover for a friend who wanted to go home for the holiday. So he volunteered to return early to the Paga outpost (Magen Be’eri), where he had been serving for the past six months with his friends from Golani’s 13th Battalion. 

On Saturday morning, Idan woke up at 6:30 to the sound of sirens warning of missiles and rockets, followed by alerts about terrorists at the outpost. Thirty-five soldiers at the outpost barricaded themselves in a protected space. At 8:27, Idan sent his parents a message saying, “Everything is fine,” and included a photo of flowers with a big, beating heart. At 9:30, he texted his brother Yuval, reassuring him that everything was okay, and at 10:00, he sent a message to his friends saying, “We are at war.” That was the last message they received from him.

Throughout the day, they fought with very little ammunition, using what they had in a calculated way. They faced over 150 terrorists attacking with mortars and grenades, who also attempted to set the building on fire. After six hours, as smoke filled the building, Idan and three members of his unit realized they had to choose between dying from suffocation inside, or going out to confront the terrorists. They chose to go out, charging the terrorists and fighting them, but one of the terrorists was rigged with a hidden explosive device. When he set it off, it killed all four of them. The terrorists, believing they were the only ones in the building, did not search for others. Thanks to their sacrifice, the lives of the remaining soldiers inside were spared.

Idan was born on the eve of Shavuot in 2003 to Eti and Arnon Raz. He was the first son after his two sisters, Shaked and Ziv, who, as Eti says, “ushered in the era of boys in the family.” His younger brother, Yuval, was born after him, and two years ago, a lone soldier named Daniel joined the family. 

Eti describes Idan as a golden boy with a huge soul and a constant smile, driven by a passion for justice and principles. He was always brimming with positive energy and charm. As a child, he loved playing in the mud and kicking a ball. This boundless energy sometimes clashed with his teachers’ expectations, leading to frequent meetings with his parents. However, it was through these challenges that Idan learned to help others. For two years, instead of disrupting class, he taught children struggling with multiplication tables while playing soccer. He also became an instructor in informal education at the kibbutz, where he passed on the empowering attitude he had received from supportive teachers. Eti notes that Idan had a unique way with children, particularly those facing difficulties. His ability to connect with them, combined with his lighthearted nature and the example he set, made him a beloved and respected mentor.

Idan could have opted out of military service due to a severe bee allergy, but as Eti recounts, “Idan being Idan, decided he would not give up on his military service. He was determined that if he served, it would be in a significant, combat role, and it would be with Golani.” For six months, he traveled weekly to Ichilov Hospital to receive antibody injections, which allowed him to enlist despite his allergy.

“In everything he did, he was all in,” she says. This was true of his admiration for Hapoel Tel Aviv — he planned his army leave around their games, and it was also true of his service in Golani. Despite the common belief that there are no Hapoel fans in Golani, Idan made sure to prove to everyone whenever possible that he was both a Golanchik and a proud Hapoel fan. On his tombstone, his parents requested that the symbol of the Hapoel team be engraved alongside the brigade’s emblem.

The Bolognese sauce is simmering and almost ready. Eti asks her mother to taste it and ensure it has the right flavor. “It’s not a classic Italian Bolognese,” Eti explains. “It’s much thinner, more like a soup. But that’s how Idan liked it — just a little spaghetti with plenty of sauce.”

Did you prepare the dish? Share a photo of it and tag it #A_Place_at_the_Table  to honor the memory of the late Idan Raz .