Just Don’t Let Her Use Knives While She Cooks

Okay, so I was a little accident prone as a kid. My parents began to wonder if I bumped into things on purpose. By brother did that as part of his 10 year old comedy routine, so it wasn’t such a far-fetched idea to think little sister would copy. Nope. I was just clumsy.

My frequent crashing into tables and day-dreamy slips of hand were the reason my mom banned me from using knives. Now that I’m a mom, I totally understand her concern and am thankful she did her best to make sure I entered adulthood with all my fingers. Thanks, Ma!

But then again, I did have to contribute to the household, and that involved cooking. And since everyone loved garlic, but no one loved spending the extra money to buy already chopped garlic, a knife was essential.

And since we had sixty times more tomatoes than the average house, and no one wanted whole tomatoes in their pasta, a knife was essential.

I won’t give you the recipe for the garlic and fingernail tomato sauce. I promise. It goes without saying that my family didn’t want to eat that again.

It’s funny how people want to prove others wrong. From the time I was eight until I was twelve, I heard constantly that I should stay away from knives while cooking. I grew more determined to learn how to use a knife. Especially if I could use it like those super awesome chefs who chopped garlic cloves in mere seconds!

So I tried. And I still have all my fingers, although there were some very close calls, and a few dinners that had to be scrapped altogether. No one wanted my literal blood, sweat or tears in their food.

But then I learned a trick: if I did something super slow, but did it over and over again, soon I’d reach lightning speed with precision. Most kids don’t start out by running, but by toddling. (I say ‘most kids’ because I was blessed with one of those rare specimens of humankind who started the process by running.)

Every summer, from my 8th to my 17th year we had a harvest of 60 bushels of tomatoes, and these had to be converted into canned tomatoes, tomato sauce, salsa, etc. I had plenty of opportunity to practice this precision. And as the smell of increasingly ripe tomatoes filled our porch, my determination to use a knife quicker grew. And I could get creative and experiment if I was fast enough.

It took many years, and a few Italian chefs’ inspiring recipes, to help me come up with my own perfect tomato sauce. And I couldn’t have learned if I never used a knife. Thanks, Ma, for finally trusting me with one!

Fresh Tomato Sauce:

3 lbs Roma tomatoes, blanched, skins removed.
10 cherry tomatoes (or other sweet, tiny variety), halved or quartered
1 tbsp fresh or 2 tsp dried oregano
3 tbsp chopped fresh basil
3-5 cloves garlic (to taste) minced
1 med onion, chopped
2 tsp cumin
1 bay leaf
salt & pepper
cayenne pepper (optional)
1/4 c. sugar or honey (optional–this cuts through the bitterness of the tomatoes)
3 tbsp olive oil

Method:

Puree Roma tomatoes. Strain to remove seeds, if desired.

In a sauce pan (I recommend a cast iron dutch oven pan if you have it) heat oil over medium heat. Add onion. After 1-2 minutes, add garlic. When garlic starts to brown, add pureed tomatoes. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally to prevent burns on the bottom. When the tomatoes begin to boil, add the cherry tomatoes, the herbs, the spices and the sweetener. Stir and boil for 2-3 minutes. Simmer for at least an hour, stirring occasionally.

This is a good base to which you can add:

Chopped mushrooms
Chopped olives
Sun-dried tomatoes
Cheeses
Sausage, meatballs, etc.

For an earthier sauce, use more honey and cumin.

For a sweeter sauce, use more basil and sugar.

I’m not as fast as Emeril, or as artistic and fancy as Giada. But if I can use a knife, you can do anything you set your mind to.

What have you set your mind to do lately?