We are all seated on rickety benches and turned over milk crates under Nonno’s grapevines. The shadows created from the slowly setting sun dance across our silhouetted bodies.
We create a production line of washing and cutting the ripe, plump tomatoes. Some are from Nonno’s huge veggie garden and some are from the local Italian supplier.
It’s been another scorching Australian summer. Days of lounging on Victoria's Rye Beach turn into balmy nights playing games at the carnival and investigating what people are catching off the pier.
Despite wishing I was chatting to my friends on Facebook, on this Friday evening I’m at Nonna and Nonno’s house with the rest of the extended family.
For a recipe on how to cook passata,
Natalie Milidoni. Source: Supplied
She drums it into us that the tradition of making passata ourselves will always be the best way and to never buy it in the shops.
Once they’ve been washed thoroughly, we cut any blemishes and the core of the tomatoes out and place the freshly cut ones into large buckets. We continue with the production line until all the tomatoes are cut.
We leave before the sun completely sets.
The next morning, I wake up to discover I have my period. I tell my mum with a knowing chuckle. She tells me what I already know: "Don’t tell Nonna.”
There is an Italian old wives' tale that if you have your period and help make the sauce it will make the sauce taste bad. It’s not the first time I had helped during that time of the month, and last time it turned out better than ever.
I guess it’s one of those superstitions, like how we tease Zio when we go fishing at the river that we brought a banana with us - a definite no-no in any fisherman’s book.
As it’s Saturday, I would normally be at Italian school with my brother and two family friends. Each weekend, while our other friends are sleeping in, the four of us get up early to listen to our frizzy-haired teacher, with the bribe of Macca’s for lunch from our mums.
This Saturday is different. There is no Italian school on the agenda, but rather a few authentic Italian lessons from our family.
We have arrived at Nonna and Nonno’s house for Day Two of Passata making. The huge metal passata storage drums are out and begging to be used after being covered up for a full year.
On sauce-making day, everyone in the family is assigned a task.
As the youngest, it’s the job of my brother and I to put a stem of Nonno’s fresh basil into each of the old large VB bottles. It’s the job with the least amount of responsibility, but without it, the sauce would lack its distinctly beautiful flavour.
We pass the bottles along the line to Mum and Zia, who use ladles and funnels to fill the bottles with the piping hot sauce. Nonna wipes the drips on the outside of the bottles and passes them to Dad who secures the lids with a bottle-top presser. He gets this job because of his arm strength, as well as his attention to detail and patience, to ensure absolutely every bottle is sealed properly.
I roll my eyes from inside the garage as I hear Zio outside the window getting upset with Nonno over something. Not only is sauce-making day an annual day to celebrate tradition, but also a day traditionally known for bringing about silly arguments. He’s still muttering when he brings the next lot of cooked tomatoes from outside and pours it into the machine which breaks it down into liquid gold.
My cousin films the whole process.
Basil, fill bottles, wipe, seal. We continue this process until there is no tomato puree left.
The sweet aroma of the tomatoes bubbling away makes my mouth water
The sweet aroma of the tomatoes bubbling away makes my mouth water.
Finally, my favourite part of the day has arrived. Each of us eagerly grab a piece of Nonna’s freshly cooked bread and scrape the sides of the pot, collecting the last remnants of tomato sauce and gobbling it up. The rich flavour fills my body with warmth and contentment.
Once we have finished, we help Mum and Zia wash up while Dad and Zio fill the large drums of water with the bottles of sauce, preserving them over the woodfire.
Nonna fries up eggs from the chicken coop and some steaks in the garage - like a lot of Italian garages, it has a fully equipped kitchen. I help her bring the late lunch inside the house, where we all sit down to eat at the long kitchen table.
Natalie Milidoni is an emerging writer of Italian background who particularly enjoys writing stories reflecting her cultural heritage. This is her first published story and it has encouraged her to continue pursuing her passion for creative writing.
This story was originally entered in the 2020 and forms part of a special SBS Voices and SBS Food collaboration series: 'Food of My Childhood'.
