Red Wine Pasta Sauce

Late August and school is in its first full stride, which means: the routines are establishing, the students are testing the routines, I am holding the routines, and by the second full week everyone has found their rhythm. This is the choreography of every school year and I never get tired of it. The first time a student does a transition independently who could not do it on day one is a win that belongs to both of us, and there have been three of those this week already.

I have been running most mornings again — the end of summer morning run, which is a tradition I am committed to even as the darkness starts coming earlier. The neighborhood in late August morning has a particular light that is more orange than summer, a first signal that fall is coming. I have started bringing my phone with me on runs, which I do not usually do, to photograph the light in specific spots: the alley behind the apartments on my street where the morning comes through the gaps, the corner with the old oak tree, the bridge over the canal. I am documenting the season like I might forget it.

Babcia Rose called Wednesday to check on Ryan and me, which I appreciated. She asked if we were eating well. I said yes. She asked about children again. I said we are working on it. She paused for a moment and then said good. This was a different conversation than last time — she said good, not she asked further questions. I think she heard what I said. We are working on it. We are married one year away from a pandemic proposal and two months away from trying. I have not told anyone this. I am telling it here to the future, which is where this goes.

The blog post this week is late summer tomatoes — the last gasp of the balcony harvest, roasted until concentrated, tossed with pasta and basil and Parmesan. The tomatoes that taste best at the end of the season, sweeter for everything the plant has spent getting there. I did not explain the metaphor. I rarely do. The readers who need it find it anyway.

The balcony tomatoes that go into this sauce are not the first ones of the season — those get eaten standing up, still warm from the sun. These are the last ones, the ones that took the whole summer to get here, and roasting them low and slow with a pour of red wine is the only way I know how to honor that. I made this the night after Babcia Rose called, after Ryan and I had talked quietly about the two months ahead, and it felt exactly right: something that takes its time, concentrates, and becomes more itself in the process.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 lbs ripe Roma or cherry tomatoes, halved
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
1/2 cup dry red wine (such as Chianti or Sangiovese)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
Salt and black pepper, to taste
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, torn
12 oz pasta (spaghetti, rigatoni, or penne)
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan, plus more for serving

Instructions

Roast the tomatoes. Preheat oven to 400°F. Arrange tomato halves cut-side up on a rimmed baking sheet. Drizzle with 2 tablespoons olive oil, season generously with salt and pepper, and roast for 25–30 minutes until caramelized and beginning to collapse.
Build the sauce base. While tomatoes roast, heat remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 6 minutes. Add garlic and red pepper flakes and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Deglaze with wine. Pour in the red wine and stir to lift any browned bits from the pan. Let the wine reduce by half, about 3–4 minutes.
Add tomatoes and simmer. Transfer the roasted tomatoes and all their juices into the skillet. Stir in tomato paste and sugar. Crush the tomatoes gently with the back of a spoon. Reduce heat to low and simmer uncovered for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce thickens and deepens in color.
Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water before draining.
Finish and toss. Add drained pasta to the sauce along with a splash of reserved pasta water if needed to loosen. Toss to coat. Remove from heat, fold in torn basil and grated Parmesan, and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper.
Serve. Divide among bowls and top with additional Parmesan and a drizzle of good olive oil if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Red Wine Pasta Sauce — The Last Tomatoes, Given Everything They Have