Yes, the mafia movies are true; Italian-American families do eat tomato sauce with meatballs on Sundays. It's a ritual that has its roots in ragú, an import to Southern Italy and Sicily from France (see 'ragout'.) Now, it's called 'sugu', 'ragú', 'Sunday sauce', or 'gravy'. 1/

In the old country, it was a dish for special occasions; the prosperity of the New World allowed for it to be consumed weekly. This prosperity was relative, however; the dish still has its roots in frugality. As an example, meatballs are made with lots of bread and breadcrumbs 2/

If an unexpected guest is added to the list, more bread is added to the meatball mixture, not more meat. The bread/meat proportion in a family recipe is a good indication of how prosperous the family became upon immigration to the U.S. 3/

To be clear, the sugu (I call it this because this is what my Sicilian-American family calls it) is about stewing meat. Meatballs (more about this later), sausages, hunks of pork rib, braciole (more about this later). All stewed in tomato sauce, all day. 4/

Now then: the tomato: every good Italian-American family has a back stock of canned tomatoes, both tomato paste and whole peeled tomatoes. Contadina is the preferred brand for paste, which is actually what the sauce is based upon. In Sicilian, tomato paste is called 'strattu' 5/

which means 'extract', which is perfect: tomato paste is like an extract/concentrate of tomato goodness. Every good pantry has a slew of those little 6 ounce cans. Also, tomatoes 'pelati' (peeled) are essential, they add texture to the final sauce. Besides meat and tomatoes... 6/

...all you need are onions, garlic, basil, salt, pepper, and time. Not 'thyme'. I'm talking about enough time to let the sauce work. Now, here come the rules: 7/

Meatballs: these are very important, and as mentioned before it's about stretching meat. Ours include ground beef, parsley, breadcrumbs, soaked bread crusts, eggs, salt, and pepper. After mixing, the meatballs are shaped into the size and shape of an egg, then baked or fried. 8/

Meat: hunks of meat are essential, we usually use 'country ribs' from the grocery. These are dusted with salt and pepper and fried along with the meatballs. 9/

Sausage: good sausage scented with lots of fennel seeds is wonderful, and links of it in sugu are a welcome but rare addition. Fry 'em up on the grill or in a pan. 10/

Braciole: this is generally beef pounded thin and rolled up with some filling inside. We observe two types: the big kind which is the size of a loaf of bread (braciolone, or 'brazhool') or the small kind which can also be called 'involtini'. Both are stuffed... 11/

...with breadcrumbs, onions, raisins, cheese, parsley, and hard boiled eggs. The mini kind are secured with a toothpick, the big one tied with twine, but both are rolled up like a jelly roll. 'braciole' comes from the same root word as 'embrace', it's like a big meaty hug. 12/

Anyway, whatever meat one has is browned and set aside while the base sauce is made. 3 cans of tomato paste and 1 can of peeled tomatoes is standard in my house. Onions and a little (one clove) of garlic are sauteed in olive oil. Once translucent...13/

...the tomato paste is added. Now: here is one place where the uninitiated will go wrong. Once the tomato paste is added to the pan to sear along with the onions, water MUST BE ADDED TO THE CAN to get every possible remaining morsel of paste from the inside of the can. 14/

It is impossible to overstate the importance of this step. The water is stirred and scraped with a spoon to get every everlasting bit of tomato paste from within the can. Putting a can in the wastebasket with even a molecule of tomato remaining is a sin against the ancestors. 15/

All that can-water goes into the pot. Now the canned tomatoes can be crushed by hand (enthusiastic children are usually used for this purpose) and added to the pot. Once again: the can must be rinsed free of every bit of tomato, and rinsing water goes in the pot. 16/

That pot simmers for a while, and after an hour or so the meat can be added. This generally happens about 11am. The house starts smelling good. People are coming and going, sitting at the kitchen table, chatting. I used to sit at the kitchen table and draw. 17/

At lunchtime, it's permissible to get a crust of bread and dip it in the sauce, and even to steal one (1) meatball from the sauce. No more. If you need more to eat there are olives and cheese in the fridge. Don't be selfish. 18/

Otherwise, we wait. We get the pasta water ready, we clean the vegetables. Broccoli is common, or else whatever greens nannu harvested during his walk. The tablecloth is put out and the table is set. Conversations get more animated now, arguments more common. I keep drawing. 19/

Finally, at about 4 in the afternoon, the sauce has become almost purple from simmering all day. The pasta is made, cheese is grated, vegetables steamed or sauteed or whatever. When nana calls us to the table, we know to shut off the TV, close the book, and come fast. 20/

At the table, everyone gets one meatball, and a piece of whatever other meat there is. Kids get a little less, nana gets none until everyone else has their portion. Tomato is used to coat the pasta, plus lots of grated 'hard cheese'. There is a little bowl of sauce as extra. 21/

And that's what Sunday dinners were like in my childhood. I try to do the same for my kids. They like it a lot! /end