by Mark Adams
The Sundays of my childhood always started with the sound of a slow simmer emanating from the kitchen, followed by the fragrance of garlic and onion sweating in my mother's giant frying pan. Soon, savory smells of basil and oregano were added to the mix, permeating the air with deliciousness no one could deny.
The sabbath was for sauce, an Italian-American tradition—don't be fooled by my surname; my mother was a Scaletta. Family recipes are handed down through generations, and my nana's recipe lands somewhere on the spectrum between Bolognese and marinara, with homemade meatballs and links of sausage added to the tomato and herb blend for a robust, complex flavor.
Source: http://lasvegasweekly.com/
