By Week 400 of this blog. I notice round numbers because round numbers pretend to be important. They are not, strictly, but they are convenient. I have written this to you every Sunday for four hundred Sundays and I have not missed one, mi amor, and you have read me, and that is a small unrepayable generosity I will not try to repay.
Week 400. The world is normal. Andrés is a week and a half old. Rosa is recovering. I have been driving to New Haven three days a week — Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday — with food. My routine is the postpartum tour schedule plus the New Haven commute. Eduardo drives half the trips. He is a good partner in grandfatherhood.
I made tomato sauce this week. From one of the jars of the sauce I canned in October. I thawed a pound of ground beef, browned it, added the sauce, stirred in a generous spoonful of sofrito (Mami's lesson — sofrito improves the sauce), simmered for an hour. Served over spaghetti. Eduardo ate four meatballs. I had not made meatballs in two years. I made them Sunday because Mami had asked for them and because I needed a Monday dinner that could be reheated through the week.
Mami at Sunday dinner ate two meatballs and a little spaghetti. She said, "The sauce has your touch now." I said, "Mami, I canned the tomatoes from Eduardo's garden in October." She said, "I know. You added sofrito." I said, "Yes, Mami." She smiled. She is pleased when she is correct, which is always.
Sofía came Thursday. She is on a short break from nursing school before the next semester begins. She is doing per-diem LPN shifts at Hartford Hospital. She has eaten at the cafeteria a few times. She said, "Ma, Gladys runs the cafeteria well. But it is not your cafeteria." I said, "Mija, it is her cafeteria now. It is supposed to not be mine." She said, "I know. I am just saying." I took the compliment. Gladys is excellent. Gladys is also not me. Both are true.
I wrote in the notebook Friday evening. Volume two now has eleven recipes. I am pacing myself. I want to finish volume two by June. Then maybe a volume three. Maybe not. Maybe I will have said enough.
Four hundred weeks of blogging. Eighteen months until sixty. One mother still living. One hundred and twenty pounds of tomato sauce in my pantry. Seven grandchildren. Four children. One husband of thirty-six years. One island across the ocean. One old apartment in Hartford where a mother sits in her chair waiting for me to come over with coffee. One kitchen. One sofrito. One chain. Wepa.
The week Mami said “the sauce has your touch now,” I understood something she had been trying to tell me for years: the chain is not about the recipe, it is about the intention you stir in. This arrabbiata has that same quality — it is a sauce that asks you to pay attention, to coax the garlic, to let the heat bloom slowly, the way good things do. I make it on the weeks I need to feel anchored, the way I made that Sunday pot of spaghetti knowing it would carry us through Monday and Tuesday and whatever came after.
Spicy Arrabbiata Sauce
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
- 6 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
- 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (or more to taste)
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 2 cans (28 oz each) whole peeled San Marzano tomatoes, crushed by hand
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 1/2 teaspoon granulated sugar (optional, to balance acidity)
- 1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
- 1 lb spaghetti or rigatoni, for serving
- Freshly grated Pecorino Romano, for serving
Instructions
- Bloom the aromatics. Warm the olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the sliced garlic and red pepper flakes. Cook, stirring frequently, until the garlic is just golden and fragrant, about 3–4 minutes. Do not let it brown too deeply or it will turn bitter.
- Add the tomatoes. Pour in the crushed tomatoes along with any juices from the can. Stir to combine with the garlic and oil. Season with salt, black pepper, and sugar if using.
- Simmer low and slow. Raise the heat to medium until the sauce begins to bubble, then reduce to low. Simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, for 30–35 minutes, until the sauce has thickened and the color has deepened to a rich red.
- Adjust seasoning. Taste the sauce and adjust salt and red pepper flakes to your liking. If you want more heat, add another pinch of flakes now and let simmer 5 more minutes.
- Finish and serve. Stir in the chopped parsley just before serving. Toss with hot cooked pasta and finish with a generous handful of Pecorino Romano. The sauce also keeps beautifully — refrigerate up to 5 days or freeze for up to 3 months.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 120 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 480mg