Nana Nancy's Gravy

Nana Nancy is Marc's grandmother. 

Marc's ITALIAN grandmother.

And if it's not HER gravy?  Then it's not really gravy at all. 

And for anyone not living in New England, by GRAVY, I mean tomato sauce, of course.

When Marc and I first got married and lived in Boston, a stone's throw from his family in Revere, everyone knew where to find us on Sunday night - at Nana's house, stuffing our faces.  But then we moved away.  And now we've REALLY moved away.  So that Nana's gravy and macaroni (and by MACARONI, I mean ziti, of course) is no longer a staple of our diet.

And boy do we miss it! 

I admit I've had the recipe for a while now, but for an Irish girl who never even knew you could make gravy on your own until I met Marc's family....well, I was a little nervous that I wasn't up to the challenge.  I've even had the ingredients in my pantry - I moved them from MASSACHUSETTS for goodness sakes, that's how long I've had them...but I was still too afraid to try it.  Even though Nana said it was so easy!  Haven't you noticed that's what all the great cooks say?  It's so EASY!   But when you try it you set your house on fire and have to figure out how to get tomatoes off the ceiling.

Anywho. 

There was a particularly nasty day of weather during our Spring Break, so I decided that TODAY WAS THE DAY.  My sous chefs and I scrubbed up, prepped our ingredients and went to work.

Here, we have Sous Chef #1 diligently grating parmesan

She really got into it, asking for more things to grate when the cheese was gone.

"Could I grate some bread?  How about yogurt?"

And Sous Chef #2, who felt some heavy equipment was necessary for his job

Homemade breadcrumbs.

And here he is making his best Michelle Traynham face

(sorry to anyone who doesn't know Michelle, but this was too hilarious a comparison not to share!)

 

Sous Chef #3 took a cue from his big brother when I gave him the job of squishing the meatball ingredients together.  I gave him the bowl, showed him what to do, and he ran away to get 'sum-fing".

When I looked back a minute later, this is what I saw...

Making meatballs is a serious job, apparently.

You could poke your eye out!. 

He was a tentative squisher.

Needed a little help to really get down and dirty with the smooshing. 

(Am I the only one who sees my muffin top trying to escape my pants and attack the food? 

 Or did the flower in my hair do it's job and distract you?)

Enter the cookie scooper Mrs. Claus put in my stocking.  Sous Chef #1 and I used it to scoop and roll the meat into happy little balls of uniformity.

At last, it was time to cook it all!

I can't show you that though, because it required Herculean effort not to just go take a nap after all that work.  Pictures would have put us over the edge.

And then it was done.  The meatballs had been baked (because I am FAR to lazy and messy a cook to pan-fry them), the turkey sausages had been browned.  The gravy ingredients were assembled and simmered for the requisite number of hours.

The table was set, and the taste testers assembled.

 

Spaghetti was the sous chefs' choice for "macaroni".  And two of the chefs didn't care how much work was put into it - tomatoes in any form are not allowed to touch their pasta. Their loss.  Because THIS chef?  Ate an entire plate piled high with so much goodness that even the muffin top cried Uncle!

And Jack, who is a HUGE fan of Nana Nancy's gravy, sat down to a plate as well.  His official taste tester decree went something like this...

 

"Mom, I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but.....this is NOTHING like Nana Nancy's.  It's really, actually - again not to make you feel bad...but it's kinda gross.  Molly!  Do NOT stick your finger in it!  Back AWAY - you will totally hate it.  You might even puke.  DONT' touch it!!  Trust me.  Oh.  So sorry Mom.  But yeah.  Yuck."

So Nana?  Your place as the family gravy queen is clearly not in jeopardy!  And next time we visit, if your freezer somehow goes empty of all that gravy you keep frozen ...you'll know it went to a good home :)