Hoo boy, this has been a long day. It’s approximately 90 minutes until the cocktail hour begins, and here is what I have been up to:
The tomatoes have to be seeded. The seeds will leave a bitter taste and unpleasant crunchy texture in a sauce. “They” say the best way to seed tomatoes is to chop them roughly and give them a spin in your handy-dandy salad spinner. This combines science, gravity, and centrifugal force in the theory that the tomatoes will become dizzy and “vomit up” their seeds and the surrounding seed goop (the scientifc name for this goop is actually “placenta”. I prefer “goop”). I give it a whirl. (Pun!)
This is not working.
“They” are lying sonsabitches. This is the messiest thing I have ever attempted. Tomato juice is everywhere. I’ve had to stop and wash my hands 6 times to transfer more tomatoes into the bowl, pour out the juice and seeds, and take pictures. Somehow I’ve gotten placenta in my hair. The seeds, for the most part, stay put. Just do it the old fashioned way – by smooshing with your hands. Squeeze a whole tomato and it will burst open with a satisfying plorp. Pretend you are the evil priest from Temple of Doom and shout “Kali! Kali! Kalima!” Rip into those suckers and use your thumbs to push the seeds. Tear them into pieces. Put the pieces into one bowl and toss with a couple teaspoons of damn salt. Unavoidably, some stray seeds will find their way into your tomatoes. Reminder yourself that perfection is boring. Reserve the seeds, goop, and drippings in another bowl. The innards hold a lot of flavor, and you don’t want to lose it.
Position a mesh strainer over yet another effing bowl. Stop and clean out your sink which is fairly tidy, but not exactly camera-ready. Resume.
Pour the accumulated seed goop into the strainer and realize the bowl doesn’t need to be in the sink. Transfer to far-more-photogenic stovetop. Gently stir, press, and massage the goop. Work it into the sides and bottom of the strainer. The juice and flavor will drip down leaving only seeds and bitterness behind. Some people might reserve the seeds, ferment them on a sunny windowsill, and sun-dry them for planting next year. Some people might also enjoy exercise, honey mustard, or Satan. Into the trash go the seeds.
Assemble your food processor and mise-en-place with chopped onions, peeled garlic cloves, and chopped basil and oregano. If in doubt, assume there’s no such thing as too much garlic. Pretty!
No need to waste time cooking the onions down slowly or letting the garlic bloom in a pan of heated oil. This sauce will cook forever, so let’s save the extra dishes. The mise bowls clean up in a snap – a frying pan is a chore. Pulse the garlic cloves. Add a few ladles of tomatoes and pulse again. You’re aiming for “hearty”, not liquid; the smooth texture will come later, I hope. Pour into a large pot. Repeat with remaining tomatoes in medium sized batches. When the last batch goes into the food processor, add the onions. Again – don’t liquefy them or your sauce will taste like onion juice. Sprinkle your herbs prettily over the top.
Add the reserved juice and heat slowly and gently – again this isn’t going to be ready for dinner tonight so take your time. Achieve a bare simmer. Slowly, but wonderfully, a heavenly scent will pervade your entire house. Your husband will complain that it reeks of garlic, but he’s totally wrong. Heaven.
It’s dish time. Fortunately this will help your hands, as the acid in the tomatoes had been gradually eating your skin and your cuticles are likely stained a bright sunshiney orange. Wash approximately 19 bowls, the 6 unassembled parts of the salad spinner, all the pieces of your food processor, 2 or more cutting boards, knives, mise bowls, and so on and so forth. the unused food processor parts are sitting on the counter where the cat has been hanging out. Wash those too. (Or don’t. I’m not the health inspector.)
Keep simmering. Simmer simmer simmer.
illdothedisheslater 