When the Kids Love It, Don’t Change the Recipe

Jeff O’Heir is a writer who works from home, cooks regularly for his three kids, aged 8, 11, and 16, and still counts mornings at Arthur’s Diner in Lowell, Massachusetts among his most influential dining experiences. 

Photo credit: Corbis Images

Everything I learned about food, cooking, pleasing a finicky crew, and feeding a lot of people at the lowest cost begins with my mother’s tomato sauce. Another thing it taught me: If your kids love something that’s fast, easy, and will last in the fridge until every drop is savored, don’t go changing it. My mother tried that once. I almost never forgave her.

We grew up in Lowell, Massachusetts, home of the Prince Company, which was run by my parents’ friend Joe Pellegrino. If you lived in New England in the ‘70s and watched any amount of television, the Prince ad featuring Anthony and the tagline “Wednesday Is Prince Spaghetti Day” became part of your culture.

Our Wednesdays were no different. The pasta was always Prince, but the sauce was always my mother’s. By the time we got home from school, the house would be filled the scent of garlic and onion sautéed in olive oil and the rich, complex aroma of tomato sauce laced with dried basil and oregano.

For an elementary school kid whose mostly Irish neighbors subsisted on broiled beef and chicken, potatoes, canned vegetables, and baked haddock coated with corn flakes, that sauce was special. It was exotic. It was unlike anything my friends’ moms fed us. That sauce set us apart from others. It was a point of pride… until my mother committed blasphemy.

On that fated Wednesday, the same pot sat on the same burner as usual. But I immediately sensed something wrong: The wonderful aroma that would instantly transport me from our tired mill town to faraway places was gone. So was the magic.

I lifted the lid. A smooth, bland red liquid poisoned the pot. No bits of onion peeking through the top, no flecks of oregano or basil speckling the surface. I asked my mother what it was. In an overly cheery voice, she said it was her sauce. I knew otherwise.

Rummaging through the garbage can, I  feared what I might find. Finally, at the very bottom, under the discarded onion skins, soggy napkins, and wilted lettuce, I discovered the culprit: a jar of Ragu. It wasn’t even Prince!

“How could you?” I asked. “Why?” She explained she had been too busy to make her own that day. “Besides, it’s just as good as homemade.” We both knew that wasn’t true. I didn’t eat sauce that night and barely spoke to her for two days.

Needless to say, my mother never served jarred sauce again, and still sticks to her original recipe. Thank goodness for small miracles.

Mom’s Tomato Sauce

Although I love this sauce, I always felt there must be a more authentic way to make it. Real Italians (my mother is Polish and Portuguese; she doesn’t remember where she got the recipe) surely must turn up their noses at canned tomatoes and oregano. So I searched and eventually came across Kim Severson’s article in The New York Times about her quest for the source of her mother’s beloved sauce. I was floored to see the foundation was essentially the same as my mother’s.

Note to busy dads (and moms): As we well know, kids can be finicky about both the texture of their food and unfamiliar flavors. Like most recipes, this one serves as a solid base that can be easily tweaked to please young palates. If your kids don’t like diced tomatoes in their sauce, leave them out. If they like their sauce on the thin side, hold off on the tomato paste.

However you end up adjusting your sauce, this recipe will set you in the right direction and will leave you with enough to add to main dishes, sides, and snacks for at least a few days. Think chicken, veal, and eggplant Parmigiana; braciole (even the pickiest eaters seem to go for that); homemade pizza (English muffins or a thick slice of Italian bread work); sautéed vegetables for a quick ratatouille; or meatball subs. Whatever dish you choose, your kids will be glad you made extra sauce.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
1½ Tbsp. minced garlic
1 28-oz. can of diced tomatoes
1 7-oz. can tomato paste
3 28-oz. cans tomato sauce (Redpack is my favorite brand of canned tomatoes: well-balanced flavor, on sale about every two weeks)
1 Tbsp. dried basil
1 Tbso. dried oregano

In a large pot on medium-low heat, warm the olive oil. Add onions and garlic, and cook, stirring, until the onions are tranlucent, about 3 minutes.

Add the tomato paste and diced tomatoes and stir to combine. Add tomato sauce and herbs, stirring so the vegetables and herbs are evenly distributed.

Increase the heat to bring sauce to a boil. Lower the heat, cover the pot and simmer sauce for about an hour, stirring occasionally.

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Do you have a favorite way to make tomato sauce, red sauce, or gravy (we know everyone has a different name for it!)? Leave a comment and let us know your tips and tricks.