Sauce

Few things make me happier than a big bowl of pasta with a brilliant tomato-based sauce on top. But few things make me angrier than going to a restaurant and ordering said dish–then having them bring me a plate with a one of these horrible, thin nouveau red sauces on top, big chunks of stewed tomato, some runny liquid (most likely pressed from the tomatoes), a couple of basil leaves and some monstrous hunks of garlic. And as bad as that is, it’s even worse when a restaurant does it on a pizza: the tomatoes bleed through the crust, the whole thing gets slimy, yuck, yuck, yuck. And being served garlic that way is flat out offensive: if you’re living or sleeping with someone, you’d better make darn sure you share the dish, or someone’s gonna be gassed out onto the couch come bedtime by the noxious garlic aroma oozing out of every pore and orifice as great, huge chunks of that hideous root sit, undisolved, in your loved one’s gut. So pay attention chefs: cut stuff up and then cook it for a while if you’re gonna call it a sauce. Because these warm, wet salads you’re passing of as sauce these days are really getting me down, man.

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