If You Can't Make It, Fake It
I've got bunch of recipes for salsa
di pomodoro (tomato sauce) upon
which I have come to rely over the years. They range from a quick
“Five Minute” sauce I …..ahem....acquired from Canadian
celebrity chef David Rocco to a good old traditional long-cooking
sauce that requires hours to prepare. I've even got a raw sauce, or
salsa cruda, I use on
pizza. But every so often, in a move I'm sure sends shudders all the
way back to my Italian second-great-grandmother, I have been known to
grab a jar of Ragu out of the pantry. Calm down, nonna!
I only said I grabbed a jar of sauce, not that I actually served it
straight out of the jar.
Obviously, homemade
is always your best bet. But I realize there are a lot of people out
there who, for a lot of reasons, turn to the grocery store shelf for
their pasta sauce. And that can be okay as long as you don't just
dump, stir, and serve. In the spirit of “if you can't make it, fake
it,” let me offer a few tips on how to make store-bought sauce
taste sorta kinda almost like homemade.
First and foremost,
buy decent sauce. I like Ragu but Prego is okay, too. They are a good
middle-of-the-road balance between the “high end” sauces with the
ridiculous price tags and the bottom of the barrel stuff you buy for
ninety-nine cents a can. I generally avoid jars of super-cheap
supermarket brands and I won't even touch anything in a can (lookin'
at you, Hunt's.) The reason for this is that most of these products
are made from low quality ingredients and contain lots of
preservatives, salt, and sugar to make them taste like anything
edible. You can usually hit a “2 for $5” sale or something on
Ragu and make out pretty good in the cost department, so just stay
away from the really cheap stuff.
Next, I buy the
plain “traditional” version of Ragu/Prego. Whatever you do, don't
buy anything “flavored” with “meat.” Same thing goes for
mushrooms or vegetables or any other ingredient added for your
convenience. Just buy the plain stuff and add your own extras, okay?
Now
after you open the jar and pour the sauce in the pan, get ready to do
some serious “doctoring.” In the great French tradition of mise
en place – which the Italians
probably invented – have all your ingredients stove-side and ready
to go. They will include olive oil, red pepper flakes, garlic, tomato
paste, dried oregano, and fresh basil. Also have some sugar, some
salt, some lemon juice, and some butter handy as well as a little bit
of the water in which you are cooking the pasta.
“Wait
a minute, wait a minute” you say. “That's almost as much work as
making the stuff from scratch.” Well......yeah.......sorta. But
believe me, it's worth it in the end.
So,
turn the heat on under your pan to low or medium low. You want to
simmer the sauce, not boil it. Add in just a glug or two of olive
oil. You're looking for a layer of flavor here, not a greasy sauce.
In fact, this whole exercise is about building flavors, which is what
Italian cooking is all about in the first place. When you make sauce
from scratch, you build layers of flavor. This is kind of a shortcut.
I know, nonna! Please
stop crying!
Add
some red pepper flakes, to taste. In Italian, that's quanto
basta, abbreviated qb,
and loosely translated as
“just enough.” Remember, some people have a higher tolerance for
heat and spice than others. Taste as you season so your sauce doesn't
go arrabbiata on you
and burn out somebody's taste buds. Qb is
the key. Quanto basta.
All right. Now it's time for some
tomato paste. In spite of what the name implies, tomato paste is not
an adhesive used to glue tomatoes together. Tomato paste is
concentrated tomatoes that have been skinned, seeded, strained and
then cooked down until they become.....well, paste-like. Its
principle purpose is to punch up the tomato flavor in sauces, soups,
stews and the like. And that's what we're using it for here; to amp
up the generally bland taste of jarred tomato sauce. Again, quality
counts. Stay away from the cheap stuff and look for product made by
Cento – my favorite – or Amore, another decent Italian brand.
Both of these come in tubes, kind of like toothpaste. The great thing
about tubes as opposed to cans is that you can use as little or as
much as you need, screw the top back on the tube, and stick it in the
fridge for later use. Can't do that with a can. And since all you'll
generally need is a tablespoon or two, the advantage should be
obvious. So, squeeze out that tablespoon or two and stir it into your
simmering sauce.
Garlic is optional and depends on your
choice of flavor profile. Sometimes I use it and sometimes I don't.
When I do, I opt for fresh garlic over some form of dehydrated powder
or granules. Watch “Clemenza” make sauce in “The Godfather”
or watch “Paulie” slice garlic with a razor blade in
“Goodfellas.” Then do what I do: grab a microplane grater and
grate up a clove or two. It's a lot easier. Jarred sauces usually
have some onion and garlic in them and if what's in there is okay for
your taste, leave it at that. Otherwise, use some fresh garlic as an
additional layer of flavor.
Again, there's usually some Italian
seasonings in jarred sauces: just usually not enough. So stir in a
bit of oregano. Just a pinch; a little goes a long way especially if
you're using dried oregano, which can be pretty potent. When it comes
to basil, I prefer fresh and I add it toward the end of the cooking
process so that it retains its fullest flavor. Taste, taste, taste.
Don't just toss stuff in the pot. Taste as you go.
Which brings me to the next point. I
mentioned sugar, salt, lemon juice, and butter. You may need them and
you may not depending on your taste. Sometimes the manufacturer will
add sugar to counter the natural acidity of tomatoes. You don't want
to add more or you'll make the sauce too sweet. Taste it first and if
it's too acidic, add a pinch of sugar. Conversely, if it's already
too sweet, add a little lemon juice. And salt can help balance both
flavors. Once again, it's all about tasting as you go.
What about the butter? In chef-speak,
it's called “finishing” the sauce. Or maybe you've watched one of
those fancy cooking shows and heard the chef talked about “mounting”
the sauce. Get the obvious image out of your mind. The French term
for finishing a sauce with butter is “monte au beurre,” and it
involves adding few pats of cold butter to the warm sauce in order
to make it richer and shinier and just a little bit more flavorful.
You don't have to do it, but you'll impress your family and friends
with your knowledge of classic technique if you do.
Another little add in I'm fond of is
one of those Italian “secrets:” Parmesan cheese rind. Now if the
only way you ever buy your Parmesan cheese is pre-shredded in a
package or (shudder) in that execrable green plastic or cardboard
“can,” you've probably never even seen the rind from a hunk of
real, authentic Parmigiano-Reggiano. And that's a pity that borders
on a culinary criminal offense. But that's a rant for another day, so
if you do actually use the
real stuff, or even a reasonable domestic facsimile thereof, save the
rind – you can collect a bunch of them in the freezer – and add
it to jarred tomato sauce for yet another layer of real Italian
flavor. Just let it sit and simmer in the sauce. But remember to
remove what's left of the rind before you serve your sauce. I forgot
once: explaining the misshapen, cheesy, sauce-covered lump to the
person who got it on their plate was rather embarrassing.
Finally,
I mentioned cooking water. This is the ultimate Italian “secret
ingredient;” an ingredient known to generations of nonne.
And it's just stupid simple.
Before you throw away the salty, starchy water in which your pasta
has been boiling for the last eight to ten minutes, dip a cup or
ladle into the pot and reserve a little bit of it on the side. Not
much. A half-cup or so is fine. Then, as you reach the final stages
of preparing your sauce to receive the pasta, spoon in just a little
of the reserved water. It's a trick that will almost magically finish
developing the flavor and texture of your sauce.
There
you have it. Is it more work than “dump and stir?” Yep. But it's
also less work than scratch-made and when done right can be almost as
good. Ouch! Nonna, stop
that! I said “almost.” I know, nothing is as good as the sauce
you spend hours lovingly preparing, but give people a break, okay? At
least they're trying. Really,
nonna, put down the
wooden spoon! Please?
Ciao for
now and buon appetito!
