A few weeks ago, a reader named Miranda emailed me asking about something I wrote in my vodka sauce newsletter. “I'm curious about the idea of your ‘world getting a little smaller’ as you've gotten older and moved in with a partner,” she wrote. “I would love to hear more about this in a future newsletter, if that's something you're interested in exploring (especially in relation to a post-pandemic ish life).”
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, especially as I’ve been reevaluating what is important to me and my life lately. I’m covering Fashion Week this weekend, working for my friend Hannah at TZR. It’s the third or fourth season I’ve done it for her, and it’s always interesting to use this time as a touchpoint of where I’m at. My first Fashion Week, I was 22, working in beauty at PopSugar, and excited by the whole spectacle. I went backstage to every single show I was assigned to, sat front-of-house whenever I was invited, and meticulously planned my outfits on the off chance I was photographed. (I never was.)
My 20s were also a lot more of a frantic part of my life. I was desperate to make a name for myself in the world of women’s media. By 25, I was living alone in an apartment on the Upper East Side. I had my own dating column for Refinery29. And I was desperate to fall in love. I sacrificed sleep (and my savings account) to go out as often as I could, partying until 2 AM in Brooklyn before taking a cab back to my apartment. I’d sleep for a few hours and then pull myself, bleary-eyed and hung over, out to brunch with friends. During the week I’d line up as many dates as I could fit on my calendar between press trips and work events. I was constantly going, and documenting the whole thing in my column and on social media. I was so obsessed with the life I was living for the consumption of others that I never even considered whether it was a life I wanted to live.
That, obviously, has changed. I’m older (though not old) and with age comes experience from which wisdom grows. I can’t tell you exactly when the shift happened, but it was definitely somewhere between being locked down because of the pandemic and being in a relationship with someone who felt uncomfortable with my mention-it-all lifestyle. My way of life shrunk, for reasons good and bad, but it kind of forced a hard reset in me. I took a look at what I was doing and realized I was unhappy. I wanted some kind of change.
So when I found myself single again last summer, I didn’t immediately default back to my way of life when I was single before. No partying until 2 AM, because even though nothing good happens after midnight, what if *the* guy came to the bar at 12:15 AM? No forcing myself to do my makeup to go to the grocery store in case the love of my life was waiting in the vegetable aisle. No making myself guilty for staying home on a Friday night and potentially missing the chance to chat up some stranger.
My therapist at the time told me to imagine myself as a queen, sitting on a throne, waiting to be met. (A seemingly ridiculous image, but an effective one.) I didn’t need to go out searching. I could just sit, comfortable and content in the knowledge that things would come to me, because anything that was meant for me would come.
Because of all this, my world shrunk. My friends with whom I only had partying in common became acquaintances. I spent more time with the women I really loved. I stayed in situations until they didn’t serve me anymore and then I left, knowing that the time hadn’t been a waste because I’d learned something new about myself. I took long walks in the morning, stayed in with watercolors on Saturday nights, and didn’t make myself feel guilty for taking the time to rest.
And, as you can imagine, the things that were most important to me eventually revealed themselves, because they had the space to do so.
So now I have a life that feels a little slower, and less clout-chasing (which I’ve been thinking a lot about and will be writing about in an upcoming newsletter). I focus on the things I want to do instead of the things I think I should. And while the day-to-day of my life feels smaller, it also feels like my world has widened exponentially, because I’m doing only the things I want to do. I guess that’s what happens with age and experience and settling into oneself. I know myself more, and realize I have control over my life.
Which brings us to this Sunday Sauce recipe. (Can you believe I’ve been writing a newsletter called Sunday Sauce for two months and haven’t done the recipe it’s named for yet?) It also has a meatball recipe, because you should really cook the meat in your sauce. As the meat finishes cooking, it releases the fat, and all that flavor gets into the sauce. You can taste the difference when you cook the meatballs in there versus when you don’t.
This was a hard one to write up, because a Sunday Sauce is meant to be to be tinkered with. I have measurements here for you, but it’s rare that I actually follow them. I taste as I go. I add a pinch of things here and there. If I have a parmesan rind, I toss it in. But my Sunday Sauce is adapted from my mother’s, which is a combination of both her mother’s and her mother-in-law’s Sunday Sauce. When I have children, and I teach them my technique, I expect them to tweak it to fit their tastes.
So as you’re cooking, remember: You have control. You are the queen on her lily pad. If you want to add more garlic powder, go for it. Don’t want meatballs? Leave ‘em out. The world is your oyster. Or in this case, your Sunday Sauce.
Here’s What’s Cooking
Sunday Sauce with Meatballs
INGREDIENTS
Meatballs
1 lb 80% ground beef
1 lb ground pork
4 eggs
1 cup breadcrumbs
10 handfuls of water (see notes)
1 Tbsp garlic powder
1/2 Tbsp parsley
1/4 cup parmesan
salt, pepper to taste (see notes)
Olive oil
Sauce
6 cans tomatoes (see notes)
1 large onion, diced
6 cloves garlic, minced
2-4 Tbsp garlic powder
2 Tbsp parsley
Salt, pepper to taste
A few bunches of basil (optional)
Parmesan rind (optional)
Sausage, lamb shanks, or braciole (optional)
Olive oil
INSTRUCTIONS
Combine all of your meatball ingredients in a large bowl, mixing with your hands until it forms uniform consistency. It shouldn’t be too sticky or too wet.
Form meat mixture into golf-ball-sized balls. Brown them on both sides in olive oil over medium heat, but don’t worry about cooking them through—we want them to finish in the sauce. Set aside.
In a large sauce pan, heat 2 Tbsp olive oil until shimmering. Add in garlic and onions and stir until translucent. Add in your cans of tomatoes and blend together in a pot with an immersion blender.
Add your garlic powder, parsley, salt, pepper, and parmesan rind, if using. Stir well.
Gently add your meatballs and any other meat you’re cooking to the sauce, making sure all meat is submerged. Cook on low for 45 minutes, stirring occasionally so the sauce doesn’t stick to the bottom.
After 45 minutes, taste your sauce. Adjust spices depending on your taste. I like to add in my basil stems at this point too. Continue cooking for at least another 15 minutes, although I like to give the sauce a full hour and a half to cook.
When the sauce is done, fish out your parmesan rind and your basil stems and discard. Scoop the meatballs and meat into a separate platter so people can take what they want. Serve the sauce hot over your favorite pasta.
NOTES
I know, you’re probably thinking “handfuls of water?!” Here’s Diane’s technique: Bring the bowl over to the sink and rest it on the edge. Run your water, and kind of toss the water into the bowl with your hands. (You can see the full technique on my Instagram reels.)
Yes, I taste my raw meat to make sure it’s well-seasoned. You can toss a pinch into oil and cook it first, but I just bring a little of it raw up to my tongue and touch it to the tip to taste. My family has been tasting their raw meat like this for generations and none of us has died from it. Be Italian-American and taste your raw meat!
Mom uses 2 cans crushed, 2 cans whole, and 2 cans pureed tomatoes. I use 1 can crushed, 3 cans whole, and 2 cans pureed, because I like a thicker sauce. Find the ratio that you love!
My mother swears by Red Pack tomatoes to make her sauce. I like Red Pack, but I’ve been experimenting with other types of tomatoes too. The more you make Sunday Sauce, and the more you experiment with tomatoes, the more you’ll realize that they all taste different. Find the one you like the best and stick to that brand.
You don’t have to put a ton of meat in this sauce, but when it’s raw, and the fat renders, it gives it such a depth of flavor. Add what you can, and don’t worry about it being raw. If you brown the meat before it goes in to cook, you’ll be good to go.