So-Easy Spaghetti Sauce

Drove down to Evarts Saturday to see Betty. Three hours each way and my back had opinions about every mile, but the drive is non-negotiable and has been non-negotiable since 2004. You don't stop showing up for your mother because your spine has a complaint. My spine can file a grievance with management.

Betty was on the porch when I pulled up, shelling half-runners into a paper bag on her lap. She's eighty-one and her hands are slower than they were but they still know the work — thumb along the seam, pop, strip the string, snap the bean. She didn't get up when I got out of the truck. She used to get up. I noticed and filed it in the part of my brain where I keep the things I notice about Betty that I can't do anything about. The list is getting longer.

We ate dinner at noon because that's when dinner happens in Appalachia and always has and I don't care what the rest of America calls their meals. She'd made half-runners cooked with bacon grease and new potatoes from the garden, cornbread in the skillet, and sliced tomatoes so ripe they were splitting on the counter. I ate two plates. She ate half a plate, which is less than she used to eat and is another thing for the list. She asked about the children and I told her Travis was good, Amber was good, Clay was getting better. She looked at me over her glasses and said getting better means he wasn't good, and I said yes ma'am, and she said I'm praying on it, and that was the end of that conversation because Betty believes prayer is action and I'm not going to argue with a woman who's been talking to God longer than I've been alive.

I mowed the lawn, fixed the screen door that was hanging crooked, and checked the gutters. The house is old and tired and so is the woman inside it and neither one is going to admit it. I left at four and stopped in Harlan for gas and a Coke and stood in the parking lot looking at the mountains and feeling that pull — the one that says this is yours, this is where you belong, why did you ever leave. I left because the mine closed. I stay gone because the jobs are in Lexington. But the mountains don't care about my reasons. They just keep being there, waiting.

Betty’s tomatoes were the kind you don’t do anything fancy with — you slice them, you salt them, you let them be what they are. But I drove home with that image of them splitting on the counter, and by Wednesday I needed to do something with it, so I made this sauce. It’s not her food and it’s not her kitchen, but standing over the stove for half an hour with garlic and tomatoes going is the closest I can get to that porch on a weeknight in Lexington. Sometimes the cooking isn’t about the recipe. It’s about staying connected to the thing you can’t get back to fast enough.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 pound ground beef (80/20)
1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
1 can (6 oz) tomato paste
1 teaspoon granulated sugar
1 teaspoon dried Italian seasoning
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)

Instructions

Soften the onion. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed saucepan or skillet over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes.
Bloom the garlic. Stir in the minced garlic and cook for 1 minute, until fragrant. Do not let it brown.
Brown the beef. Add the ground beef to the pan, breaking it apart with a wooden spoon. Cook until no pink remains, about 8–10 minutes. Carefully drain any excess fat.
Add the tomatoes. Stir in the crushed tomatoes and tomato paste until fully combined with the meat. Add the sugar and stir again.
Season and simmer. Add the Italian seasoning, basil, salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Reduce heat to low and simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, for 20 minutes until the sauce thickens and the flavors come together.
Taste and serve. Adjust salt and pepper to your liking. Serve over your pasta of choice. Sauce keeps refrigerated for up to 4 days and freezes well for up to 3 months.

Nutrition (per serving)

So-Easy Spaghetti Sauce — The Garden Tomatoes Betty Never Wastes