christmas | netflix & nutella

I love tomato sauce (or “gravy” as my dad would correct me) many different ways, including but not limited to: tangy, cheesy, cherry tomatoey, spicy, chunky, smooth.

It’s is one of those things every Italian girl tries to master. It’s an essential in the kitchen. My mom would make a vat big enough to swim in every Sunday, and for the rest of the week, if we had nothing else to eat or just needed a little snack, it was there for us.

Flashback to hot antipasto baked in my mom’s tomato sauce at Christmas

So when my sister was running late and needed me to throw something together for dinner, she recommended I just made a pot of tomato sauce. Simple right? Confession: I’d never made it before. Why tamper with something my mom makes just so perfectly?

I loosely followed my sister’s recipe here, adding a can of tomato paste as per her additional instructions. I didn’t want to leave it there though. With a little extra dried basil, a splash of red wine, and a garlic clove, I made it my own.

It turned out deliciously. It was tangy, tomatoey, and just chunky enough (an immersion blender is key).

The next day, I made eggs in purgatory for lunch.

Runny egg + crunchy toast + creamy goat cheese + tangy sauce = bliss.

There really is nothing like coming home. Especially to a home that you’ve known for years. In my case, it’s been my home for the past 15. Through changing apartments in the city, moving to San Francisco and back, going to college, and much more, this home has served as a blanket of comfort to me, without which I would have been lost.

Now, I know they say that home is where the heart is. In my case, that’s my family. But I’m only 19, and I can firmly agree that there’s something irreplaceable about a childhood home. It’s where I learned to tie my shoes; where there’s a tree in the front yard with initials carved into its thickest branch; where I used to “surf” on the wooden plank that lines the banister on the staircase; numerous Christmases; most of my birthdays (since I was a July baby). This house holds many memories. And come September, it will be hard to see them go. I’m going to France for the semester to study and live with my sister, for which I couldn’t be more excited. But there is part of me that wishes I could stay here forever and cherish the last bit of time I have left.

That’s the thing about homes though. Another place can be filled with the same people, the same Christmas decorations, the same delicious scents of cinnamon and sounds of crickets in the summer and carols in the winter. So as a way to attempt a first good-bye, my sister and I have been making cocoa non-stop over the holiday. It brings us back to the past 15 winters: irreplaceable, cherished, never forgotten.

Homemade Hot Chocolate via Joy of Love.Bake.Enjoy

(My take on the recipe: I didn’t use any hot water, and I finished with a dollop of whipped cream and cinnamon.

PS Cocoa and Charade go great together. Audrey’s wardrobe is amazing.