I remember when the basil grew beneath the tomato vines. With the slightest passing breeze, the anxious, peppery-green sprouts of basil would tickle the downturned blossoms of the vines, teasing out their pollen in a minute shower over the soil. During the crisp early morning, it was a pleasure to visit the garden where the air was replete with the metallic smell of sunshine and bliss as the sun stirred the morning dew upon those delicate, cherubic tomato buds. As for the lazy summer afternoon, when there was little more to do than count the number of tendrils and minute hairs swaying upon the vines, mother-basil would stir a tempest by tempting the worker bees with her flamboyant bunch of flowering seeds.
As a boy, I never understood why my grandmother went to such painstaking lengths to buy her Roma tomatoes from selected suppliers in embarrasing bulk quantity (somewhere along the lines of 30 kilograms during the winter time), nor did I understand the esoteric methods she frequented for flavour-extraction and preservation. It all seemed a little bit too ”ethnic” to me and I dared not let my friends know that this was our Sunday pastime. At the time, I felt that the procedure of making passata from fresh tomatoes was a silly and archaic practice, where often overripe bulbs were manually processed through a table-mounted mechanical pulper, cooked for hours over low heat and stored in ridiculously hot jars. Nowadays in my mind, I appreciate that there is a particular and very unique taste associated with only the pampered tomato afforded the right care; only with the right dousing of water, the correct spread of fertiliser and the secret elements of love and care.
It makes sense to me only now that the best passata comes by following the traditional methods and the deliberate search for only the best local produce. It is my pleasure to share with you all that I have learned.
You would have noticed that I love to harp on about the fact that our modern-day is without the economy of pace that we had in the “olden days” and that quality in fresh produce is becoming a rarity. I feel that many suppliers (yes, supermarkets, this means you) have succumbed to satisfying the consumer demand for overtly ripe-red tomatoes induced with hormones and pesticides to ensure a consistently visually appealing and shelf-hardy product. Oftentimes with these shortcut procedures for the end-goal of making a quick sale, the true character of the tomato is lost and the end-product is a rubbery, flowery and tasteless tomato that is only here in body but not in spirit.
But sometimes you just can’t help it and have to rely on what you have on hand. Don’t despair.
I will admit to you that Roma tomatoes are not always easy to find, are never cheap and often come at the bargain of quality for quantity: you’ll need a polystyrene box of at least 10kg before you are assured of good produce. Rest assured, the truth is that you can get away with just about any kind of red, fleshy tomato, it is merely that the Roma variety is esteemed for holding its flavour and content when boiled down and preserved. And when it comes to the secret in releasing the delicious aroma of the tomato, regardless of the variety, the reality is skin-deep. Peel and core your tomatoes and simmer the flesh with a healthy dousing of salt and strain this through the peeled tomato skins and seeds about three or four times. The skin (and the seeds) are the first point of contact with the sun and is thus jampacked with the unique essence of the tomato that cannot come from the inner-flesh alone.
The best tasting passata is only as good as the best tasting and highest quality pasta. Fresh-egg pastas such as fettuccine come to mind, which work wonders in “clinging” the sauce and giving a thorough mouthful in every forkful. The secret of the sauce is the naked tomato that has never been refridgerated and is cooked in its skin and its seeds over a low-heat for several hours: at this point introducing a quality sea salt, for the salt draws the bitterness out and brings the tartness to the surface.
Remember: your passata is the best reflection of how you like to eat. A mechanical pulveriser makes light work of a heavy load of tomatoes, ensuring an even, paste-like product that is useful for lasagne and canneloni, or even a lovely sheer sauce for spaghetti. The mechanical method has been the technique of my family for as long as I can remember, for two reasons: the first is that a reasonably thin-liquid tomato base stores remarkably well in flute-neck beer or wine bottles that can be preserved with a layer of olive oil and kept in a temperature stable environment for around three years. Second, the sweetness of the tomatoes is accentuated perfectly by the garlic, basil and salt that are also introduced into the pulverising process. You would be surprised how delicious this can be.
Nevertheless, don’t be discouraged if you prefer a chunkier sauce or if you simply don’t have a pulveriser on hand. The below recipe is written in lieu of the expectation that you will work with my preferred method of stovetop peel-and-simmer. It is a great way of bringing family and friends together.
INGREDIENTS
3 tablespoons pure olive oil
1 cup of water
5 garlic cloves, diced
1kg Roma (or other variety) tomatoes
dash of red wine
small bunch sweet basil leaves, roughly ripped
sea salt to taste
pinch of freshly ground black pepper
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