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If you’ve ever dreamed of making authentic Italian tomato sauce just like Nonna used to do, then you’re in for a treat. Today, we’re diving into a rustic, heartwarming sauce-making journey with none other than Pasquale, who brings generations of tradition to his backyard kitchen. This isn’t just any sauce—it’s slow-cooked, fire-simmered, and filled with love. Let’s break down his flavorful method step by step.
A Backyard Full of Tomatoes and Tradition
Pasquale begins with a bounty of fresh, ripe tomatoes—so many that neighbors stop to comment on how much sauce he’s making. The tomatoes are homegrown or sourced locally from places like Collis Acre. He emphasizes the importance of quality: “Look at these beautiful tomatoes!” he says, excitedly showing off his harvest.
The tomatoes are first cleaned thoroughly, even given what Pasquale calls a “sugar wash,” which is his personal touch for extra freshness. He carefully cuts out the cores and any yellow spots, ensuring that only the best parts of the fruit go into his sauce.
Cooking the Sauce—The Old-School Way
Forget stovetops—Pasquale cooks his tomatoes outside over a fire, using large pots that bubble and steam with delicious aroma. He simmers the tomatoes for around 45 minutes until they’re soft enough to pass through a food mill or strainer. No electric appliances here—this is traditional all the way.
The strained tomato pulp is thick and velvety, ready for the long simmer. Pasquale returns the sauce to the fire and lets it cook for four full hours, stirring occasionally and skimming off excess water to ensure the sauce thickens properly.
“I want the sauce to be nice and thick—no sweat, no salucci!”
Simple Ingredients, Big Flavor
What makes Pasquale’s sauce unique is its simplicity. He doesn’t overload it with spices. There’s no oregano, no onion, and definitely no meatballs in this batch. Just:
Fresh tomatoes
Sea salt (added at the end to avoid bitterness)
Fresh basil leaves, gently pressed into the jars
That’s it. The result is a rich, pure tomato flavor perfect for pasta dishes like rigatoni, spaghetti, or linguine.
Canning Like It’s 1939
Once the sauce is ready, Pasquale fills his sterilized jars, leaving just a little space at the top. A fresh basil leaf is tucked into each jar before sealing. He uses clean towels to wipe the rims and ensure a perfect seal—“This sauce, I got it in my basement five years old, still good!”
The jars are then left to rest and cool slowly. Pasquale emphasizes doing this the right way—no shortcuts—just like his parents did decades ago.
Pasquale’s Final Tips
No oregano unless you're making pizzaiola sauce
Always taste before sealing to adjust salt levels
Let the sauce rest before storing long-term
Use for pasta, not meatball “gravy”—this is salsa di pomodoro
Why This Sauce Matters
Pasquale’s method isn’t just about food—it’s about heritage. He’s been making sauce this way for over 70 years, and each step is filled with stories, memories, and joy. Watching or following his process is like stepping into an old Italian village where neighbors gather, music plays, and everyone helps peel tomatoes.
If you’ve ever dreamed of making authentic Italian tomato sauce just like Nonna used to do, then you’re in for a treat. Today, we’re diving into a rustic, heartwarming sauce-making journey with none other than Pasquale, who brings generations of tradition to his backyard kitchen. This isn’t just any sauce—it’s slow-cooked, fire-simmered, and filled with love. Let’s break down his flavorful method step by step.
A Backyard Full of Tomatoes and Tradition
Pasquale begins with a bounty of fresh, ripe tomatoes—so many that neighbors stop to comment on how much sauce he’s making. The tomatoes are homegrown or sourced locally from places like Collis Acre. He emphasizes the importance of quality: “Look at these beautiful tomatoes!” he says, excitedly showing off his harvest.
The tomatoes are first cleaned thoroughly, even given what Pasquale calls a “sugar wash,” which is his personal touch for extra freshness. He carefully cuts out the cores and any yellow spots, ensuring that only the best parts of the fruit go into his sauce.
Cooking the Sauce—The Old-School Way
Forget stovetops—Pasquale cooks his tomatoes outside over a fire, using large pots that bubble and steam with delicious aroma. He simmers the tomatoes for around 45 minutes until they’re soft enough to pass through a food mill or strainer. No electric appliances here—this is traditional all the way.
The strained tomato pulp is thick and velvety, ready for the long simmer. Pasquale returns the sauce to the fire and lets it cook for four full hours, stirring occasionally and skimming off excess water to ensure the sauce thickens properly.
“I want the sauce to be nice and thick—no sweat, no salucci!”
Simple Ingredients, Big Flavor
What makes Pasquale’s sauce unique is its simplicity. He doesn’t overload it with spices. There’s no oregano, no onion, and definitely no meatballs in this batch. Just:
Fresh tomatoes
Sea salt (added at the end to avoid bitterness)
Fresh basil leaves, gently pressed into the jars
That’s it. The result is a rich, pure tomato flavor perfect for pasta dishes like rigatoni, spaghetti, or linguine.
Canning Like It’s 1939
Once the sauce is ready, Pasquale fills his sterilized jars, leaving just a little space at the top. A fresh basil leaf is tucked into each jar before sealing. He uses clean towels to wipe the rims and ensure a perfect seal—“This sauce, I got it in my basement five years old, still good!”
The jars are then left to rest and cool slowly. Pasquale emphasizes doing this the right way—no shortcuts—just like his parents did decades ago.
Pasquale’s Final Tips
No oregano unless you're making pizzaiola sauce
Always taste before sealing to adjust salt levels
Let the sauce rest before storing long-term
Use for pasta, not meatball “gravy”—this is salsa di pomodoro
Why This Sauce Matters
Pasquale’s method isn’t just about food—it’s about heritage. He’s been making sauce this way for over 70 years, and each step is filled with stories, memories, and joy. Watching or following his process is like stepping into an old Italian village where neighbors gather, music plays, and everyone helps peel tomatoes.