Remember these?
Last night, they made me change my mind from a recipe for Hasselback Potatoes with Camembert (I’m still going to make it soon… no worries) in order to make one of my tried and true comfort foods, tomato sauce.
Tomato sauce was one of the first things I made on my own. When I first started cooking, I clung to my mother’s recipe like a security blanket, scared to stick my big toe in the water and make the leap to cooking my own things. But as I branched out, bit by bit, I left my old standby by the wayside: it wasn’t the same as my mom’s anyway, and I had bigger and better fish to fry. (Note: I will now stop using weird old expressions. I have no idea where this came from, but it’s weird, and it ends now.)
Tomato sauce is something I crave every once in awhile, but I tend to put my canned tomatoes into other dishes now, like a Lentil Curry I just tried (recipe to be posted soon) or into big pots of chili or minestrone. But there was something in the air last night as I walked home from my night class, and I knew that even melted cheese wasn’t going to cut it for dinner: it had to be tomato sauce.
Making pasta with tomato sauce, for me, is really just an excuse to eat an entire bowl of tomato sauce. The pasta is really for decoration. I made a half-cup (dry) of macaroni and absolutely smothered it in this sauce. It was a little embarassing. And then, as I was putting the rest in a Tupperware for later, I scraped the pot with a wooden spoon and ate it plain. It’s that good.
This particular version of tomato sauce is pretty far from what my mom used to make, but now it’s the real thing for me. It’s evolved over a lot of trial and error and reading other people’s tried and true family recipes. No more comparisons: this is how I like it. I think I finally have my own tried and true sauce.
Not Your Nonna’s Tomato Sauce
Note: When I said yesterday that Alex knows me with reference to the chili peppers, what I meant was, he is very aware of my taste for foods that “pique,” literally, stab. I like my food spicy, and tomato sauce is no exception. If you don’t want all the heat, then by all means, leave out the cayenne powder. The whole peppers bring an element all of their own, and I like the two, but not everyone completely coats their pizza with Tabasco sauce.
1 tsp. olive oil
1 tsp. butter
1 onion, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, peeled and cut in half
2 whole cayenne peppers, soaked in a tablespoon of boiling water for five minutes
salt and black pepper
½ tablespoon powdered cayenne pepper
4 tbsp. tomato puree (Note: this isn’t tomato paste, nor is it tomato sauce. It’s reduced cooked tomatoes and it’s pureed and comes in a glass jar. I don’t know what it’s called in English. If you can’t find it, use tomato paste. If you know what it’s called in English, please let me know so I can share the wealth.)
1 28-oz can whole, peeled tomatoes
½ tbsp. sugar
½ tbsp. dried basil
Heat a large pot over medium-high heat. Add the oil and then the butter. When the butter stops bubbling, add the onion and a pinch of salt. Cook the onion until translucent and sweet.
Add the garlic and both kinds of cayenne pepper and cook until fragrant, about one minute. Add the tomato puree and cook for thirty seconds, stirring constantly so that nothing burns.
Add the tomatoes, sugar and basil. Add salt and pepper to taste. Reduce the heat to medium low and cook, stirring occasionally, for half an hour. Taste for seasoning and then remove from the heat.
After five minutes, use an immersion blender to blend the larger chunks of tomato while still leaving a slightly chunky texture.
To serve: cook enough pasta in salted, boiling water to serve your party. Drain and move to a serving bowl. Add just a few tablespoons of sauce to the cooked pasta to coat it lightly and toss. Dump the rest of the sauce on top. Serve with cheese for sprinkling.
Pass me a spoon? 😉