Abundance & Summer Tomato Sauce

I was standing at the edge of the squash bed  when he entered the garden gate. “Hey, can you help me for a sec?” I called out. He walked over, pretty much as tall as me and nearly a teenager, he looked me straight in the eye without so much as a crack of a smile.

He was there to help spread the mulch around the new pig pen, the first worker having gotten distracted by the red tomatoes she could see from across the way. So, Elijah standing there listening, me with my arms and apron pockets full of the beautiful red globes, I spotted my opportunity.

“We’re growing tomatoes!”

He didn’t look impressed.

“Don’t you like tomatoes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Elijah, we’re growing tomatoes!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said flatly before a long pause. “What did you need help with?”

He could not be more understated and I could not be more overstated, especially when it comes to growing stuff. Why isn’t anyone else excited? Why isn’t he astonished? Doesn’t he realize that we have never grown a significant number of tomatoes, not in Texas, not anything beyond a few snacks here and there? And I canned tomatoes this past week. Canned our own tomatoes!

I realized it wasn’t going to happen; he was never going to be as excited about this as I was, perhaps never as excited about anything as I am. Or at least it would never be as evident. And I love him for his serious nature; I admire it, actually, because I have no idea how one is ever “happy on the inside” without it completely spilling over into ridiculous exuberance on the outside. Especially when it comes to homegrown tomatoes.

So I asked him to load up my apron with more tomatoes and the rest of the beets, squash, and Swiss chard I’d laid out. Then I headed in to make tomato sauce and tell Stewart about the garden harvest. Not surprisingly, I came bouncing in, tomatoes flying everywhere, practically screaming about tomatoes and homemade sauce and can you believe we’re growing tomatoes?

A very calm “nice” was his response. It wasn’t exactly a flat line, like his oldest son, but it reminded me how closely the apple (or the tomato?) falls from the tree.

So we cooked it all up and served it with our freshly harvested spaghetti squash, also something we’ve never grown in such abundance. We crammed around the table that is now needing an extra leaf, the eight of us tucking into a plate of mostly homegrown goodies.

The ridiculous exuberance I had held an hour ago had since been contained and I was trying to hide my astonishment at just how good homegrown tomato sauce could taste. We’d not had that since we left Michigan eight years ago, then pregnant with our now red-headed seven-year-old. It was good, really good; unlike anything you could buy… from tomatoes I knew only the Lord could provide after we’d tried and failed to grow them for seven summers.

And that’s when I saw it. It was muffled and understated, but it was there. Not even the most reserved of the introverts could hide the “those are homegrown tomatoes” and “boy, this is really good”. It was spilling out, measured as it was, but it was there. Bite after bite, the non-existent excitement grew to enthusiasm, a reserved enthusiasm, but enthusiasm nonetheless.

Hot and hungry, we ate. Some of us giddy, others mildly enthused, we ate. All of us so very grateful, we ate.

Summer Tomato Sauce

I don’t even bother to peel the tomatoes for a sauce like this; the blending takes care of everything.

Ingredients

• 12 cups chopped fresh tomatoes
• 2 medium summer squash
• 2 large bunches Swiss chard, stems and leaves separated and chopped
• 1 head garlic, peeled
• 1 lb grass-fed beef
• 2 6 oz cans tomato paste
• handful each of fresh basil and marjoram
• 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
• salt to taste

Directions

Add the tomatoes to a Dutch oven and turn the heat to medium. Add a generous sprinkling of salt and bring tomatoes to a simmer. Add the squash, chard, and garlic and return to a simmer. Cook for 15 minutes or until the squash and tomatoes are tender. Remove from the heat and blend until mostly smooth using an immersion blender.

Meanwhile, in a separate skillet, fry the beef until browned, breaking it up with a utensil as it cooks. Once the beef is cooked, remove it from the heat and add it to the tomato pot.

Stir in the tomato paste, herbs, red pepper flakes, and a generous sprinkle of salt. Simmer the sauce for an additional 20-30 minutes, uncovered, to thicken.

Serve over pasta or spaghetti squash.