Sauce

Because the berries are simmered whole and not strained, this sauce has a chunky texture.

Pat: My mother, Lorine, loved spending time in the kitchen and started cooking when she was a young girl. Friends knew her as the girl in school who enjoyed taking home-economics classes and collecting recipes, and when they went looking for her they knew where to go (the kitchen). Cooking is something she has kept at her whole life, so it’s no surprise that Momma has become the best gravy-maker in our family. What makes this recipe special is that Momma learned it from her mother. It’s an heirloom, and you’re gonna love it. Our family has never prepared “white” or cream gravies; we prefer what is called a brown flour gravy, meaning the flour is browned in fat before the liquid is added, which creates a particularly rich flavor. This recipe is meant to be a guide. Feel free to adjust the fat, flour, and liquid according to the amount you want to prepare. But the proportions we give are dead-on, and will result in one of the most delicious gravies you will ever prepare. It’s slammin’ over mashed potatoes, pork roast, fried chicken, and Gina’s Perfect Rice.

This sauce is traditionally simmered for hours, until a finger’s width of oil floats on top. Typically that oil was then reincorporated into the sauce. In true Italian family style, pass platters of the meat with some sauce spooned over them, and bowls of pasta dressed with the sauce around the table. Buon appetito.

Let as much liquid as possible drain from the tomatoes by cutting out the cores and allowing the juices and seeds inside to escape, and then squeezing them gently with your hands. If the tomatoes are too wet, the crust won’t cook properly. Whether you choose a food mill or food processor to grind the tomatoes, make sure they stay a little chunky. As with all the measurements for seasoning in this book, the amount of oregano I call for is a guideline. If you like a pronounced flavor of oregano, by all means add more.

Stand by the pot as the sauce cooks—once it starts to thicken, it will stick to the bottom of the pan if you don’t stir it constantly. And once the bottom scorches, the flavor will permeate the sauce. If the sauce does stick and burn, immediately transfer it to a clean pot without scraping the bottom. Check the sauce, make sure it doesn’t taste scorched, then continue. Don’t let these warnings scare you away from cooking the sauce enough, though; there is nothing worse than the taste of raw flour on your tongue.

If you have trouble finding ground pork, or if you prefer to grind your own, it’s really very easy. (And if you buy a piece of bone-in pork to grind, you’ll have the bones you need for the sauce.) Remove all bones and gristle from the meat, but leave some of the fat. Cut the pork into 1-inch pieces, and chill them thoroughly. Grind about half at a time in a food processor fitted with the metal blade. Pulse, using quick on/off motions, until the meat is ground coarsely. In my region of Italy, tomato paste is usually added along with the onions to caramelize a little bit. But around Naples, and the rest of southern Italy, tomato paste is stirred right into the sauce. That’s how I do it here. When the sauce is finished simmering, you can pull the meat from the bones and stir it into the sauce, or you can do what I do—nibble on it while the sauce perks away. This makes quite a bit of sauce—enough to feed a small crowd and have enough left over to freeze in small quantities for a quick pasta meal for one or two.

Make this sauce with fresh tomatoes only when the juiciest, most flavorful ripe tomatoes are available. (Increase the amount of olive oil a little if you make the sauce with fresh tomatoes.) Otherwise, canned plum tomatoes make a delicious marinara sauce.

Bolognese is a very versatile sauce. Not only can it dress all shapes and sizes of pasta, like fresh tagliolini (page 180) or dried spaghetti or rigatoni, you can also use it instead of the Italian-American Meat Sauce (page 144) in the lasagna on page 156, or in a meaty version of the pasticciata on page 158. This recipe makes enough sauce to dress 1 1/2 pounds of dried pasta or one and a half recipes of tagliolini—good for feeding a hungry crowd. It also freezes well, if you’d like to enjoy it in smaller quantities. Warm the sauce while the pasta is cooking and toss it with the cooked pasta, adding a little of the pasta-cooking water if necessary to make a creamy sauce. Toss in some grated Parmigiano-Reggiano just before you serve it.

This rich French sauce made of pepper, Cognac, and cream is traditionally served on steak, but it’s equally good on pork or salmon. Instead of cream, this version is given body and richness with cornstarch-thickened evaporated milk.