you do not take the skins off, they are so thin anyway and you can’t be bothered.
you add a tablespoon of butter to your simmering tomatoes and then another.
the sauce comes out orange. there were just so many colors. you are grateful that the blending of so many colors did not make like your nursery school pictures and turn a muddy purple. you realize that wouldn’t have been so bad either. you think about lycopene and how long the winter is and you are grateful to have an orange tomato sauce now.
you take pictures of the sauce after the sun has mostly left the apartment because that is when it is ready and because sometimes life can’t be dictated by picture-taking.
you slurp down the sauce on al dente spaghetti and you grin at your husband. you are thankful. times a million.
– – – – – – – –
a sort of recipe:
saute a yellow onion and four cloves of garlic in olive oil until they are golden.
add tomatoes, all cut up and still with their juices.
add a healthy dose of sea salt (i add enough to fill my palm) and the same amount of herbs de provence. think of your friends who are there. allow yourself to get lost in provincial reverie. add a tablespoon of sugar.
let the whole mess simmer for an hour or two, or as long as you need to finish whatever else you’re doing.
turn off the burner and let cool for a minute or five. pulse the sauce in a blender and return it to the pan.
add a heart pad of butter and simmer some more. taste. season. eat.
that is it. purists be damned.