Homemade tomato sauce is what you do after you have eaten enough tomatoes to make ketchup go out of business. Annie always added hand-picked then dried Marjolaine to her homemade tomato sauce. She spoiled me by giving me a jar of her own dried Marjolaine each summer. Now I am on my own which means I am probably eating weeds. Honestly, I could eat it by the spoonful on a salad or mozzarella. It is deliciously sweet.
French Husband is the one who makes the tomato sauce. He follows Annie's recipe. I boil pasta, sliced buffalo mozzarella, pour wine, turn on the music and put my feet on the table (wishful thinking about the feet part… usually I prepare the jars.)
Fortunately, we have a farmer in our village who sells his homegrown vegetables. We are regular customers. French Husband has even gone out and helped him pick. Though I don't think that is advantageous to the farmer. French Husband eats more than he picks. I have seen him: Knife in his back pocket, a baguette and a bottle of wine under his arm, a chunk of cheese under his hat, garlic in his breast pocket- tomatoes on the vine, the cicadas singing, the blue provencal sky as a blanket.
He knows a good thing about summertime.
In a large pan saute a couple of yellow onions and cloves of garlic in olive oil.
Add a ton of chopped tomatoes, some salt, a handful of Marjolaine and some white wine.
Slowly cook for half a century.
Go out and enjoy the day, let the tomato sauce reduce, then blend to the consistency you like.
Cook some pasta, drain it, then pour in the homemade tomato sauce. Wrap it up in a blanket, carry it to the garden, spread out the blanket, put down some plates, take out the knife in your back pocket, tear off a chunk of baguette, uncork a bottle of red wine, grate some cheese, take off your hat, listen to the cicadas under the evening sky, while you twirl some pasta around your fork.
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