making SundaySauce…

My name is Andrew and I am a food photographer and stylist. I am starting this blog as a way for people who love food to share their stories about their experiences with food. Memories, recipes, horror stories, and all manner of food related banter.

My experiences with food, from the time I was a boy in my grandmother’s kitchen learning how to make the “Sunday Sauce”, to my life in front of a stove preparing foods to go before the camera have all left profound impressions on me.

“Sunday Sauce” is an homage to Ersilia “Sadie” Milo, my great-grandmother, my single most important food influence. A native of Cefalu, Sicily “Sadie”, who the children called “Mama”, was a tough but loving woman who while widowed as a young woman lived a full and exciting life until the ripe old age of 96. The story goes that while in her late 70′s she was picked up in a raid of a poker game where the stakes warranted police attention….My Mama….spent the night in the pokey for playing poker. A true rock star.

The days we spent with Mama were filled with joy and that joy almost always revolved around the dinner table. The foods that were served at that table are now the foods I try to recreate in my kitchen and represent a good portion of what I would call my comfort foods. Rice balls, asparagus omelets, fried meatballs (before they made their way into the sauce) and a chicken soup that had so much pecorino romano in it that it resembled the thickness of a stew. I have to admit that nothing I make tastes quite like her food but maybe its just that they don’t seem the same without her there singing “New York Town” in between courses.

The one food that left the deepest memory, the thing that I can close my eyes and recall the smells of and smile and transport back in time is the sauce she made on Sundays. The Sunday sauce was the one with the meat and took about 6 hours on the stove, minimum. She made those meatballs so moist they cried when you broke them open. The beef braciole all but fell apart when the fork went in. She put some pig skin in the sauce as well, and the flavor it gave the sauce was so rich and amazing that nothing that I have poured over a plate of pasta has ever truly rivaled it. Even the hard boiled eggs she occasionally put in the sauce to compensate for the lack of meatballs when money was tight always seemed special. Needless to say…I miss that sauce. Those foods were truly made with love. The joy she felt at feeding her family emanated from her.

So please…post your stories, ask me questions about cooking or photography. Tell me about restaurants you love but don’t forget to add the why. Why are these foods special? What memories do you attach to them? Who do they remind you of? These are the stories of our lives. These are the stories we should share. Enjoy! Bon Appetit!

I hope to hear from you soon….