Luigi’s Grandma’s Homemade Sauce

The story that still breaks my heart a little

Photo by Mae Mu on Unsplash

To fully understand this story, a deep embodied appreciation of authentic homemade Italian sauce is required.

Or, gravy, as my sister-in-law called it. Being a Jew myself, gravy has another meaning entirely, but that is yet another story.

When I met my wuzband (the man who used to be my husband), he enchanted me with stories of how he grew up making homemade sauce. And I don’t mean homemade using crushed tomatoes from a jar like I currently do.

I’m talking — actual tomatoes, peeled and pitted, carefully placed in mason jars that were boiled over an old-country fire pit in their Long Island backyard.

The Recipe

I wish I could relay the full recipe for you, but that is not possible. But, I will say that inside each carefully boiled jar was fresh tomatoes, one fresh basil leaf and a spoonful of sugar.

The creation was quite intentional so that a proper acidic environment was assured. His family tradition originated in old school Ventotene, the small island off of Italy that his mother was from.

Dozens of jars were cleaned, boiled, sealed air tight, and then placed in a box to set for the following year. My wuzband’s job as a young…