My sister emailed me and asked if I had a good sauce recipe from fresh tomatos. "You're kidding," I reply. "You don't need me. You need an Italian!" I did my best, however, and emailed her back:
Soooo, I spoke to a real live Italian for you. I said, How do you make sauce from tomatos? He said, How do YOU make sauce from tomatos? I said, yeah. He said, Heard of Prego? Everybody gotta be a smart***. :D
I told him no, really, my sister has a garden and she's growing tomatos. She wants to can a good sauce. Humph, he says. Like he doesn't quite believe me, but he'll humor me anyway. Here it is:
He says, I don't do no measurements. Everything is to taste. Gotta taste it as you go, okay? Suuuure, I say.
Ok. Take your tomatos, blanch 'em and peel 'em. Then smoosh 'em up with your hands, just git yer hands in there and smoosh 'em up. To which I reply, Eeeuuu.
Then, in a big, big pan, saute up in EVOO (that would be olive oil to us ordinary, non-Italian folk) some basil, oregano, parsley, a hot pepper, onion, and garlic. Do it on low heat so everything gets tender, but don't let your garlic get black. Then throw in the smooshed up tomatos. Fresh tomatos are watery, so you're going to need a big ole can of paste, and maybe a can of puree to thicken it up. Add in some mustard (squeeze the bottle once all the way around the pan), hot sauce to taste, some sugar. Throw in some pork neck bones. It's gotta have pork, no matter what. That's what gives it richer flavor. Add parmesean cheese and stir, parmesean cheese and stir, parmesean cheese and stir. Lots of parmesean.
You've got to keep an eye on it all the time. Listen. (He must have noticed my eyes glazing over.) All The Time. It's got to be on low, low heat, like one or two. If you walk away, it'll burn. You gotta stay right there and stir often. How long? I ask. Oh, at least five or six hours, he says, I start my sauce early in the morning and cook it right up til we eat, he says. The longer you cook it, the better it tastes.
I told him no, really, my sister has a garden and she's growing tomatos. She wants to can a good sauce. Humph, he says. Like he doesn't quite believe me, but he'll humor me anyway. Here it is:
He says, I don't do no measurements. Everything is to taste. Gotta taste it as you go, okay? Suuuure, I say.
Ok. Take your tomatos, blanch 'em and peel 'em. Then smoosh 'em up with your hands, just git yer hands in there and smoosh 'em up. To which I reply, Eeeuuu.
Then, in a big, big pan, saute up in EVOO (that would be olive oil to us ordinary, non-Italian folk) some basil, oregano, parsley, a hot pepper, onion, and garlic. Do it on low heat so everything gets tender, but don't let your garlic get black. Then throw in the smooshed up tomatos. Fresh tomatos are watery, so you're going to need a big ole can of paste, and maybe a can of puree to thicken it up. Add in some mustard (squeeze the bottle once all the way around the pan), hot sauce to taste, some sugar. Throw in some pork neck bones. It's gotta have pork, no matter what. That's what gives it richer flavor. Add parmesean cheese and stir, parmesean cheese and stir, parmesean cheese and stir. Lots of parmesean.
You've got to keep an eye on it all the time. Listen. (He must have noticed my eyes glazing over.) All The Time. It's got to be on low, low heat, like one or two. If you walk away, it'll burn. You gotta stay right there and stir often. How long? I ask. Oh, at least five or six hours, he says, I start my sauce early in the morning and cook it right up til we eat, he says. The longer you cook it, the better it tastes.
I say, just can the blanched/peeled tomatos.
Prego is $3.49 a jar and takes about 2 minutes in the microwave.
