Super Spaghetti Sauce

Grace's third anniversary. January 14th, a Tuesday this year, and I woke before five and couldn't go back to sleep. I lay in the quiet and let myself think about her, which I've learned to do differently over the years — not as a flood but as a presence. She would have been almost four years old. Almost old enough for preschool. I imagine her at the table sometimes, watching me cook, asking the endless questions that four-year-olds ask. I don't try to stop the imagining. It's a way of keeping her close.

Gary and I visited the cemetery in the morning, before the kids were up. We brought the same thing we always bring — sunflowers, because they were my grandmother's favorite and Grace has inherited all of our favorite things in the way that loss rearranges inheritance. It was cold and still and we stood for a while without saying much.

I cooked all afternoon. Soup, bread, a big lasagna that went into the freezer. Cooking on hard days is not avoidance — I've been in therapy long enough to know the difference. It's the way I process. My hands working while my mind holds something too large for direct examination. The pasta comes out right because I'm paying the right kind of attention.

In the evening Olivia came and sat with me in the kitchen while the lasagna baked. She's thirteen and she knew, the way children know the household calendar of grief. She didn't say much. She just stayed. When the timer went off she helped me take it out of the oven. We ate dinner as a family and talked about ordinary things and Grace was there in the ordinary things the way she always is.

The lasagna that went into the freezer that Tuesday was made with this sauce — the same one I’ve been making for years on days when I need something that takes real time and real attention. There’s a particular mercy in a sauce that has to be watched, stirred, tasted, adjusted. It asks just enough of you. I’ve pulled this recipe out on ordinary weeknights and on the hardest days of my life, and it has never once let me down.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 1 hr 15 min | Total Time: 1 hr 35 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 lb ground beef (85% lean)
1/2 lb Italian sausage, casings removed
1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium green bell pepper, diced
2 cans (28 oz each) crushed tomatoes
1 can (15 oz) tomato sauce
1 can (6 oz) tomato paste
1/2 cup water or dry red wine
2 tsp dried basil
1 1/2 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp granulated sugar
1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 tsp salt, plus more to taste
1/4 tsp black pepper
2 tbsp olive oil
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped (optional, for finishing)

Instructions

Brown the meat. Heat olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add ground beef and Italian sausage. Cook, breaking up the meat with a wooden spoon, until browned and no pink remains, about 8–10 minutes. Drain excess fat, leaving about 1 tablespoon in the pot.
Soften the vegetables. Reduce heat to medium. Add onion and bell pepper to the pot and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more, stirring constantly so it doesn’t burn.
Build the sauce. Stir in the tomato paste and cook for 2 minutes, letting it caramelize slightly against the bottom of the pot. Add the crushed tomatoes, tomato sauce, water or wine, basil, oregano, sugar, red pepper flakes, salt, and black pepper. Stir well to combine.
Simmer low and slow. Bring the sauce to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to low. Partially cover and simmer for at least 1 hour, stirring every 15–20 minutes, until the sauce has deepened in color and thickened to your liking. The longer it simmers, the better it gets.
Taste and finish. Adjust salt, pepper, and sugar as needed. Stir in fresh parsley if using. Serve over cooked spaghetti with grated Parmesan, or cool completely and freeze in airtight containers for up to 3 months.

Nutrition (per serving)

Super Spaghetti Sauce — The Sauce I Make When My Hands Need to Be Busy