My mother was a very Southern cook. A very good Southern cook. Her green beans were cooked with fatback and by the time the beans made it to the table there wasn’t a bit of a crunch left in them. She could fry chicken almost as good as my grandmother’s. The first time my husband Tom came to have dinner at my parents’ house, he had to very quietly ask me, “What is this?” when the platter of roast beef was placed on the table. My mother believed in cooking, cooking, cooking any meat very, very done. Tom had only experienced roast beef that was sliced nice and rare. His experience with my mother’s roast beef was a new one, but even now, he will occasionally say, “Let’s cook a roast like Granny used to make.” I know exactly what he means.
My mother followed in her mother’s footsteps in being able to make amazing chocolate cakes and a banana pudding that my father loved. He told me it was always a good day when he saw some almost rotten bananas in the kitchen. My mother made the best butter beans and the best corn and sometimes mixed the two of them together. Even though we lived in the city, she still went out to the country and picked her own beans and shucked her own corn and kept a home freezer full of summer vegetables she had picked, shelled and frozen. We were the beneficiaries of her hard work and her good cooking.
And then there was her spaghetti sauce. I loved coming home from school to find a big pan of her spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove. I always had to have a taste. Delicious! Delicious on spaghetti, delicious eaten by itself. The sauce would simmer on low on the back burner of the stove for several hours. This was pre-crockpot or insta-pot days. Any leftovers of the sauce could be frozen and enjoyed later.
When I served as the Dean at the Cathedral of St. Paul in Burlington, Vermont I was delighted when the youth group used my mother’s spaghetti sauce recipe for their fundraiser spaghetti suppers. Because I am allergic (deathly allergic!!!) to onions, my mother’s spaghetti sauce recipe made it possible for me to attend the suppers and to eat what everyone else was enjoying. Plus it just felt like such an honor to have my mother’s recipe be part of the Cathedral, as I know she would have been so pleased.
There is one thing that has always puzzled me though. Where did my mother, my Southern from head to toes Mother, learn to cook spaghetti sauce? My grandmother did not cook spaghetti sauce so it was not a recipe she learned growing up. Where did my mother get this recipe? I don’t know.
To my knowledge my mother did not own a single cookbook other than a few that I might have given her as gifts when I was older. But the spaghetti sauce recipe did not come from a book. Granted, it is not a complicated recipe but I still wonder. Who shared this recipe with her? Did she see it in a magazine? Did it come from a friend? How did my mother learn to make her own spaghetti sauce? None of us know. I never thought to ask her this question when she was still alive and could have answered it. It is funny to think about it, but for our family in the 1950’s spaghetti sauce seems quite exotic.
Recipes—and the foods we cook from those recipes—are very special gifts. Even when we don’t know the history of those recipes, they always bring to mind and heart the person who cooked this recipe for us. I have a feeling that everyone has a few special recipes that were gifts from people who have made our lives richer, dearer and more delicious.
We had a snow storm yesterday and today is cold with sunny and bright blue skies. I decided it was the perfect day to make a big pot of my mother’s spaghetti sauce. It will simmer away all day and I will sneak little tastes as the day goes along. Tom and I will cook some whole wheat pasta (this would be a new variation for my mother) and ladle the sauce over it. We will twirl up a forkful and remember my mother who blessed us in so many ways. Who knew a Southern lady could cook up such a delicious pot of spaghetti sauce?
Here is her recipe. It makes a lot (a big pot full) but as I said, it freezes well. It’s not fancy but it certainly is delicious.
My Mother’s Spaghetti Sauce
Brown 1 to 3 pounds of ground beef in a large skillet (my mother always went for the meatiest version—3 pounds of beef—I usually do 1 pound of beef and several cups of chopped fresh mushrooms)
Add 2 large cans of crushed tomatoes, 1 large can of tomato paste, and 2 small cans of tomato sauce.
Season with oregano, garlic powder, a little salt and pepper.
Stir in 1 teaspoon of baking soda and 1 Tablespoon of sugar.
Simmer on low for at least two hours. Longer is better.
Did someone you love have a “signature” recipe? I’d love it if you would share it here.
Oh Jeanne, the timing of this is amazing! I’m with Mary Lois, helping with Evelyn, and just last night we had homemade spaghetti with sauce that Mary Lois made. It wasn’t the same recipe as your mother’s, but it simmered for quite some time, leaving a lingering aroma and opportunities for tasting, readying our tastebuds for the delicious meal! I love the timing/connection of this! I will definitely use your mother’s recipe soon! And yes, the baking soda/sugar element is an interesting, however obviously necessary, part of this delicious dish! Thanks for sharing!!
I remember coming home and having a bowl of just the sauce too. Simply delicious. I've discovered that many of my mother's recipes were from the back of the product. Her spaghetti sauce is from the back of the pasta package!