I make meat sauce. When I'm anxious or depressed or nostalgic or a particular kind of comfortable. I make meat sauce. Gravy, really. Because I learned to make it by watching my mother. Who learned from her mother. Who learned from her grandmother. And they call it gravy.
Pretty often something triggers in my brain that propels me towards my kitchen to start the slow gravy dance. Heat oil. Chop vegetables. Brown meat. Add wine. I've perfected my own version of my family gravy. And like most good things, it takes some work, but the pay off is worth it. To me, gravy makes the entire house smell like all of the wonderful things from childhood.
It smells like comfort and love and home. I'm sure that any writing professor would be confidently telling me right now that you cannot smell comfort or love or home. But they would be wrong. Gravy smells like all of those things to me. Gravy is comfort. Gravy is love. Gravy is home.
And maybe someday my child will watch me make my gravy and she will come to know all of those things. And she will carry them away with her wherever she goes. And maybe someday, she will make gravy, too.
Here is how I make mine:
Sunday Gravy: Comforting Meat Sauce
One of my favorite things about this sauce is that you can really switch it up to suit your own taste, or to use what you have on hand. It's a very forgiving recipe. But it is oh-so-delicious. I make this almost weekly for myself and my husband, but I've also easily quadrupled the recipe for big Sunday dinners with my family. I hope you make this for yours someday soon.
Ingredients (serves 4):
Hi! I'm Erin.
I'm a working mama, wife, writer and owner of a little red house. I'm trying to sort through the noise and live a life that is genuine, happy and grounded in simplicity.