Good Luck with Your Brain Sauce

No, I do not have a commercial kitchen available for rental in my apartment.

I understand how one might think that, however. I’ve definitely run the tiniest kitchen in the world ragged with my baking problem as of late. That batch of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies was a double, four dozen of those bad boys. And let’s not forget about my Triumph of The Pie…a “pie-umph”? A really good “Trie”?

So why so much cookie on pie action lately? Well, it is the fall and every person I know is in total Maximum Comfort mode. That’s a given. But if you re-read those entries closely, you’ll have a Sixth Sense like realization as to what’s really been happening over here in Queens.

“Wait, didn’t she mention in the pie blog that she was depressed that day? And how about the pumpkin one…I definitely sensed some sort of deep longing for security and an emotional home. OMG, It was in front of us the whole time… This b—-h is going through something!!”

No need to worry about me here, seriously. The pie was definitely borne from The Pits, no doubt. The pumpkin chocolate chippers were just an ol’ fashioned, sugary, free-for-fall. But surrounding all of this baking is a lot of change in my life… or potential change. It’s all good, (and I’m talkin’ GOOD), stuff. But this part of the show, the sitting and waiting, is kinda unbearable at times; hard to concentrate during the day and difficult to fall asleep at night. Andrew, my postcard writing best friend, tried talking me down the other night right before bed. Instead of saying goodbye at the end of the phone call, he signed off with “Alright, later. Good luck with your brain!” He knows me so well.

I’m drinking calming, hippy teas at night with encouraging sayings attached to the bag. And every Sunday I focus on a recipe to stop the voices. Why? No idea. Whatever, man. It works. However, in the interest of my dark rinse jeans, which are always less stretchy than I expect them to be, I needed to cool it with the sugar and butter this weekend.

Lidia Bastianich’s “sugo”, or sauce, comes from my Italian Christmas phase from a few years back. The only real food I can cook is the kind that takes hours of sitting and stewing; chilis, sauces, chicken and dumplings. So when I was in charge of managing the Jackson Christmas eve dinner, it got very Goodfellas up in there. I was still eating meat back then, so there were a about a billion amazing sausage meatballs floating in this super rich sauce. My family appreciated it, but my brother finally put his foot down one year, “Sarah, we’re not Italian! Do we need to confuse our racial issues any further?” True, true.

So below you’ll find all of the steps to creating your own Italian Christmas, or Italian Hannukah, or Italian Kwanzaa (I better get an invite to that one, btw). I’ve left the meatball recipe out since I’m a Veg these days. But if any of you are looking for “a spicy meatball” recipe, holla at me or buy Miss Lidia’s book. They are absolutely out of this world. I left the specific directions and ingredients that are geared towards the meatball’s entry into the sauce in case you wanna go for it. I gotta admit, this sauce is definitely better with the meat. It’s still pretty damn good without, though.

Lidia’s Long-Cooked Sugo
from Lidia’s Family Table, Lidia Bastianich

  • For the Soffrito

6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 medium onions
3 or 4 plump shallots, minced in a food processor
2 or 3 fat garlic cloves, minced in a food pro (about 2 tablespoons)
1 large carrot, minced in a food processor (about 1 cup)
2 large stalks celery, minced in a food processor (about 1 cup)
5 or 6 fresh bay leaves
1/4 cup tomato paste

  • For the Sugo

1 35 oz can San Marzano plum tomatoes and juices, passed through a food mill (4 cups)
8 to 12 cups or more hot Turkey Broth or Vegetable Broth or plain hot water
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more if needed
1 cinnamon stick (turkey meatballs)
…or… (sausage meatballs)
2 tablespoons finely grated orange zest
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes, or to taste


Soffrito party! Frying the vegetables in the fat like this is super important according to Lidia. The flavors get crazy concentrated. But get ready to do a thousand dishes and find your food processor. (I hate food processors, p.s. Pretty sure I am definitely going to lose at least 3 fingers in one someday.)

Pour the olive oil into the pan, drop in the onions and shallots, and set over medium-high heat. Stir it for a minute or two until the onions begin to sizzle.

Drop the garlic into a hot spot and spread it out to caramelize for a minute, then stir with the onions. Stir in the carrot and celery, and get them cooking; drop in the bay leaves and cook the soffrito for another 4 minutes, until it starts to dry out. Lower heat if necessary to prevent burning.

Push the vegetables to the side and drop the tomato paste into a hot spot. Toast it for a minute or more, then blend it into the soffrito. Pour in the milled tomatoes and juices, and stir; slosh the tomato container with a cup of hot broth/water and stir that in too. Bring the sauce to a boil quickly, and cook over medium-high heat for 5 minutes or more, stirring frequently, until it has just begun to thicken.

Pour in 4 cups of the hot broth, stir it in, and note now the level of the liquid in the pan: this is about the level that the sugo should be at the very end of cooking after your meatballs have been removed. Stir in another quart of the broth and bring to a rolling boil. Stir in orange zest, thyme leaves, and up to 1/2 teaspoon of red pepper flakes, to taste.

Cover the pot and adjust the heat to maintain a steady but gentle bubbling all over the surface of the sugo. Let it cook for at least an hour or longer, checking the pot every 20 minutes or so. It should be reducing steadily. If it’s barely dropping, or not at all, raise the heat and set the cover ajar to speed its concentration. If it’s dropping super fast, lower the heat to slow the evaporation. Add hot broth or water if needed to keep the sauce at the level you want.

One Comment

  1. Posted October 5, 2009 at 6:33 am | Permalink

    Cinnamon stick screams GREEK to me, not Italian, esp with the addition of orange zest. I’m not sure what part of Italy Lidia is from but this one says very southern to me or with a Greek aunt around somewhere.

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