The search for the perfect tomato sauce
Could Aunty Carol hold the secret to my mother's famous recipe?
There are lots of things I wish I’d asked my mother before she died. I wish she’d been able to be a proper Grandma to my daughter, who was born too late to remember her. I wish she’d written down all the stories she told us about growing up during the war. I wish I’d asked her a million things about parenting, and that I’d asked more about my grandmother, who died long before I was born. And, although this may seem insignificant compared to those things, I wish I’d asked Mum how she made her famous tomato sauce.
Mum’s tomato sauce was syrupy, with strands of onion and pulpy tomato. It had that sweet-sour profile of all good sauces, with a hint of spice. I think I can visualise the odd stray peppercorn in it, but maybe that’s my memory playing tricks on me. My primary school sandwich of choice was luncheon sausage and tomato sauce - but this tomato sauce, not Watties’ finest. (Looking back, I can’t remember that we had that kind of sauce at all, but I was probably desperate for it.) As Anna McMartin writes, it was a time when most people had a mum who stayed home and could do things like make sandwiches and sauces. How lucky we were, though none of us realised it at the time.
Anyway, back to the sauce. After mum died I gathered up all her recipe notebooks and folders, most of the time finding it extremely comforting to thumb through the pages and remembering things she’d made. There were handwritten recipes from family and friends, mixed with neatly snipped out newspaper or magazine columns, annotated with Mum’s neat printing. “MAKE DOUBLE” she notes alongside a recipe for a macaroon-topped slice. “Needs more sauce” is written underneath a beef casserole.
What there wasn’t, was a recipe for the tomato sauce. What’s more is that no one seemed to know where it had come from. The recipe, like the sound of Mum laughing, or shaking the dice for Backgammon, or seeing her at the far end of the dining table, finishing the crossword, seemed to be gone forever.
Last year during a chat with Jim Mora on RNZ, I mentioned this fruitless quest. After the show, Jim was inundated by texts and emails from people who had a similar story to tell. Several people also contacted me directly, saying that they’d been amused to find that their mother’s ‘famous’ or ‘secret’ tomato sauce recipe was later discovered to be out of the Edmonds’ Cookbook. It’s taken me a year, but I’ve finally embarked on road-testing the recipes. Here’s my first attempt.
Aunty Carol’s Tomato Relish
I’m very grateful to Frances West for sharing her husband’s family recipe, which initially came from his grandmother and is now called ‘Aunty Carol’s Tomato Relish’. It’s delicious, even made with less-than-optimum tomatoes that I bought at the market. I used brown sugar and malt vinegar in this batch, I think using plain sugar would yield a redder sauce - and maybe make it more like Mum’s one. So, this isn’t the sauce of my memories, just yet. But it’s got potential.
1.5 kg ripe tomatoes, stem ends removed, and quartered
4 medium onions, finely chopped
300g sugar
2 cups vinegar
1 Tbsp plain salt
3 tsp curry powder
2 tsp mustard powder
1/2 tsp white pepper
3 Tbsp plain flour
3-4 Tbsp vinegar - extra
Put all the ingredients - except the flour - in a large pot and set over medium heat.
Bring to a simmer, then lower the heat and cook for about 1 hour, until the onions are very soft and the tomatoes are squishy. Use a slotted spoon or a pair of tongs to remove the tomato skins (this is very satisfying to do and makes the end result much nicer, don’t skip this step), then mash the tomatoes against the side of the pot with a wooden spoon.
After the tomato mixture has been simmering gently for about 45 minutes, wash four 400ml jars and lids in hot soapy water. Put them in a low oven to dry and keep hot.
Mix the flour and extra vinegar - it should be a slurry, rather than a fat blob, so add more vinegar if you need - and add to the mixture. Boil for five minutes, stirring constantly. Remove from the heat and ladle into the hot, sterilised jars. Screw on lids and allow to cool. Store in a cool place.
Good things
Recipes for a Lifetime of Beautiful Cooking
I’m a bit behind in the world of cookbook publishing - and I’ve only read the digital version of this 2023 book - but I fell in love with it instantly. Danielle Alvarez is from a Cuban family, grew up in Miami, got her first restaurant job at The French Laundry (like winning Lotto the first time you buy a ticket), worked at Chez Panisse (another Lotto win), moved to Australia, became beloved by everyone, etc. This is a very thoughtful, but in no way dull or worthy, collection of recipes that make absolute sense for a home cook. Also: GREAT to see her co-author, Libby Travers, acknowledged, because this doesn’t happen enough. Ahem.
‘On Saturday she didn’t smoke, so she was extra violent’
I started listening to this interview between RNZ’s Susie Ferguson and comedian Ruby Wax in the car yesterday - and was so gripped that I sat listening, agog, long after I reached my destination.
How about ‘dem apples?
Our courtyard apple tree, planted four years ago by clever
, has finally hit its straps. It makes me so happy to see it laden with fruit - it’s a double-graft, so we can choose between mouth-puckering Granny Smiths and sweet, crunchy Royal Galas - that it almost feels wrong to pick them (is this some weird throwback to listening to too many Bible stories?) Eternal damnation be damned, every bite is worth it.Next time on Fancy Butter… I feel something feijoa-y coming on.
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Go apple go!!
The how to unshrink a jersey advice took me right back to childhood, including hanging it out on a stocking… (no I’m not 112 years old!).