There’s a memory in every recipe. It lives in the ingredients, the way it is prepared, the aroma as the ingredients come together, and especially the taste. Oh, the taste!
I hadn’t thought about my mother’s spaghetti sauce for years. Then one day, I woke up and couldn’t stop thinking about it. I could smell the oregano that made it so fragrant. I could feel the taste on my tongue.
I decided to make it that night, but I barely remembered how it was made. I wanted to call my mother for the recipe, but I was twelve years too late, so I had to rely on memory.
Olive oil, garlic, salt, tomato paste, a little water, and a generous amount of oregano.
I don’t know what triggered me to suddenly crave it.
Maybe I was feeling nostalgic.
Maybe my mother was sending me a message to “make the sauce!”
Maybe I just wanted spaghetti.
I gathered the ingredients and recreated it the best I could.
First I heated the olive oil and sauteed the garlic… then I added the tomato paste and salt… and when that was mixed together I slowly added water to create the texture I remembered so well. Then I added a generous amount of oregano. probably more than my mother ever used, but I love oregano.
Some might say I added too much oregano, but for me, too much oregano is never enough.
The aroma filled my kitchen as I boiled the spaghetti.
A few times I dipped the wooden smooth into the sauce and stole a taste. It was exactly how I remembered it.
As I sat at the table with the bowl of spaghetti in front of me, I felt like a child again at the kitchen table in the avocado green kitchen in our suburban home surrounded by family.
Except this time, I wasn’t having a glass of milk.
It was red wine.. with my bowl of memories.
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