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Fresh Tomato Sauce

Tomato Sauce always reminds me of lazy sunny Sundays in Sicily. In Sicily, Sunday was traditionally, Pasta with Tomato Sauce day. On Sunday, no matter who’s house you went to, Pasta with Sauce was served. Sometime the sauce would have meat in it, or eggplant, or broccoli rape, sometimes just plain sunny tomatoes, either chopped, creamed, pureed or from a paste. But a good sauce always starts with good tomatoes, wether canned or fresh. I really believe that fresh tomatoes give a superior taste, but in the absence of fresh ones a good can of Italian San Marzano Tomatoes are quite suitable. During the school year the daily routines were identical from year to year. In those days the school week consisted of 6 days. Sunday was our only lazy day. In general the whole family stayed in bed later than normal, and families spent time together on that day, with very little to do outside the home. I remember some Sundays waking up to the aroma of tomato sauce. It would swirl in a stream, from the kitchen down the corridor and then make a right into my room and find my nose under the covers and gently fill my lungs with the sweet scent of tomatoes. It’s the most pleasant way to wake up. The anticipation of eating pasta would make me walk to the kitchen half asleep and give my mom a big good morning kiss, then I’d ask where everyone else was and I’d go visit my dad and my brothers in their room. Sometimes I’d get in bed with my brothers and we’d play. My brother Pippo would tuck the sheets under his body weight and completely wrap himself in a fort of sheet, and I’d have to find an unprotected area to get through and touch him in order to win and then it would be my turn. Pippo was ten years older than I and he always won, leaving no uncovered areas. I on the other hand always left a vulnerable spot for him to catch me under the sheets. Even though I knew I was weaker than him, I always cherished that game, and I could play until my mom would call that it was time to get ready for lunch. When we looked presentable for the table, we would sit at our assigned seats at the table and my mouth would water with anticipation. I would close my eyes and take in deep breaths of pleasure. The sweet smell of tomatoes and pungent essence of the basil had filled the whole house and made memories that to this day it’s hard to forget. This was a time to be together and talk about what we’d been up to during the week. Wine was on the table, fresh Parmiggiano that we would grate over the dish and always a crusty bread freshly baked by our neighborhood baker. The bread I, for years tried to reproduce and finally have brought to my table after many trials and errors. In those days meals seemed to be long lasting, when families had so much to talk about. It wasn’t just an act of stuffing food in our mouths but a time of assimilation, of concession, of confession, understanding and appreciation. Believe it or not, after lunch we would all be expected to take an afternoon nap as if a long night sleep had not been enough. I had a hard time with that, knowing that after the nap we would go for a stroll somewhere, and sleeping in the afternoon when I felt restless was too much of an effort to try and refrain my energy. I would instead play around the house away from the bedrooms so as not to disturb my parents during their nap. By 5-6 PM we would all be ready for an outing somewhere where people took a stroll, on the main strip of Agrigento, or at the beach in San Leone or Porto Empedocle, or wherever my dad’s car drove us. We’d eat a snack at a local bar* or an ice cream, or just have a Coca Cola, my favorite drink then, which I was allowed to have only on occasions like this. By sundown we’d go home in time for dinner and have a cold dinner of salads, cheeses, smoked fish, olives and whatever else didn’t need any cooking. By the end of dinner it was late and I had had a long day, I was ready to go to bed. Kissed everyone goodnight and looked forward to the following Sunday Me to the left, my brother Pippo next to me, Silvestro on top, Mom on the right The recipe below is my favorite way of making tomato sauce. I like the seeds left in and also the skin. If you want to remove the seeds, cut the tomato in half and squeeze the seeds out, then use the pulp. If you want the skin off, plop the whole tomato in boiling water for 10 seconds, remove from the water and peel the skin off effortlessly. If you like it it the way I do, follow the steps below without doing any of these steps above.