Nonna Lina’s Pomarola

I never met Nonna Lina, my husband’s grandmother. She passed away six weeks before I met him, coincidentally on the exact same day my maternal grandfather died. But from the way my husband and my mother-in-law talk about her, the constant references to her, especially when we are in the kitchen, I feel like I know her. And I feel connected to her when I cook her recipes.

pomarola tomato sauce

Lina was tiny, little Tuscan lady, and a good cook. A pedantic one. But the best one in the family, everyone always agrees. She had a tendency to over-cater – the worst thing that could happen during a meal is that someone leave the table hungry. This is a trait that was passed down to my mother-in-law, Angela.

The other day, while visiting Angela, I was offered a crate full of tomatoes, picked right out of the backyard garden. They were being left to mature in the garden shed but Lorella, Angela’s niece, was leaving for the seaside and didn’t have time to make the usual pomarola — bottled tomato sauce. So I piped up. I never say no to free produce and particularly not the things Lorella has excess of — she has supplied me in the past with rose petals for jam and green walnuts for liqueur, not to mention stinging nettle for tortellini, foraged from the weeds around the walnut tree.

tomatoes for pomarolatomatoes for pomarola

I’ve always wanted to make pomarola – that oh so Italian tradition that encompasses everything we think of about Italian food: family, seasonality, self-sufficiency and copious amounts of tomato sauce. Pomarola is a Tuscan tradition of tomatoes — a mix of San Marzano (also known as Roma tomatoes in Australia) or ribbed tomatoes known as Fiorentini or Cuore di Bue (Bull heart) is great — cooked with what Italians call aromi, aromas. It could be simply basil, or aromi can mean that trilogy of carrot, celery and onion. The resulting stew of sorts is passed through a passaverdura, or food mill or mouli, then bottled and stored away for those nights when all you have energy for is to boil some pasta and tip over some delicious tomato sauce.

Allow me a slight tangent. I don’t know how this could be done without the help of a passaverdura. A blender will not do. Passing 4 kilos of tomatoes through a sieve will certainly build character (and muscles) but I don’t think anyone will be pleased about having to do it. A food mill is a must in an Italian kitchen. It’s not a fancy contraption but rather old fashioned and chunky, even awkward at times when trying to balance it above a bowl or a pot that isn’t really the right size. It reminds me a little of those flour sifters with a spring-mounted handle that sweeps the flour through mesh. But more sophisticated: it manages to separate unwanted fibres, seeds and chunky bits, while at the same time turning the vegetables into a silky, smooth sauce. And once you have one, you will see, you’ll use it for everything — jam (this was a revelation for me; no need to skin and pit your fruit, just pop it all in, the food mill does the rest later), sauce, soup. It’s wonderful.

pomarola ingredients

I saw Angela’s eye’s light up when I volunteered to make the pomarola, and she immediately gave me her mother’s recipe — she remembers all of Nonna Lina’s recipes as if it were yesterday that she was watching from the sidelines. But like so many oral recipes, I really didn’t have measurements to work with. Tomatoes, onion, carrot for sweetness, celery, parsley and basil – a lot of it. The tiniest bit of sugar to counteract the acidity of the tomatoes (this, I did not put in as I think it’s a bit of an old wives tale and honestly, it doesn’t need it. Taste first anyhow – this was already the sweetest pomarola all on account of the very sweet, very ripe tomatoes). Oil, just a little, if you want. Any water? Oh yes, some water, but especially if the tomatoes aren’t watery themselves.

Lina would break up the tomatoes in her hands as she put them in the pot. I did this, too, and realised about halfway through I should have been wearing an apron. The pot, the kitchen walls and myself were entirely covered in rather sinister looking spray of red tomato juice. There’s likely an easier way to do this (chopping roughly perhaps) but I do love a tactile recipe, an excuse to use my hands and ripping into the tomatoes seemed very much the most romantic way to make pomarola, even if the kitchen did look like a homicide scene afterwards.

Tuscan pomarola recipe jarred tomato sauce

Nonna Lina’s Pomarola (Fresh Tuscan Tomato Sauce)

Makes about 2.5-3 kilos of sauce

  • 4 kilos of tomatoes
  • 1 large red onion, roughly chopped
  • 1 large carrot, roughly chopped
  • 2 celery stalks with leaves, roughly chopped
  • ½ bunch of flat leaf parsley, torn
  • ½ bunch of fresh basil leaves, torn
  • salt
  • about 250 ml (1 cup) water or so
  • extra virgin olive oil

Wash the tomatoes well and begin ripping them up and putting them directly into a very large stock pot (or two medium-large ones, if you must). Add the chopped onion, carrot, celery and herbs and heat the pots over low-medium heat initially. As the pots warm, the tomatoes will begin to let out their juices. Season with salt — at this point I would add a pinch taken with 4 fingers, you also have another opportunity to season according to taste later. You may want to help them along by adding a splash of water — I used about 1 cup/250 ml.

Let the vegetables cook down, stirring occasionally so the ones at the top get a go of being at the bottom. As they do so, you will notice more and more liquid filling the pot. As soon as they are covered, turn the heat to low and let it all bubble away for about 40 minutes to 1 hour.

In the meantime, prepare jars for bottling. If you want to use it right away, you can also store it in the fridge and use over the next few days. Preparing jars for bottling is much like jam making and canning — use clean, glass jars and clean lids that have been washed well with warm soapy water and air dried. I used five jars that hold 500 ml of liquid each and had a bit left over.

Taste the tomatoes and adjust with perhaps another pinch of salt if it needs. If you think it’s too acidic, Lina would have added a pinch of sugar too, but this all depends on the tomatoes used (and I bet it’s just delicious without).

Remove from the heat and begin the food mill process — scoop out the vegetables bit by bit and pass them through a food mill set over a large pot (or a bowl but I find the mill is more likely to sit over a large pot — it has little legs that lift out for this — while a bowl will be too wide). Every now and then, when you have exhausted the leftover scraps in the food mill, tip this unwanted mess into the compost or bin, and carry on.

When the sauce is completely smooth, bring it back to a rolling heat, then distribute amongst the jars. Pour a layer of olive oil over the top of the sauce before closing the lid tightly and leave on your kitchen bench until the sauce has cooled and you hear that ‘pop’ of the lid sealing itself.

Serving suggestion: Nonna Lina served her pomarola tossed through pasta with a knob of butter. Grated Parmesan cheese was served on the side.


  1. Mauro says:

    Where do you keep the sauce stored after? In the fridge or a damp place?



    • Emiko Davies says:

      Once it’s bottled and sealed you can leave it in a cool dry place such as pantry. If you haven’t sealed the jars or once they are open, conserve in the fridge and eat within several days.

  2. judy says:

    Emiko, seriously, hands are the best for flavor. They say that the metal in a knife can change the tomatoes. Old wives tale? same with salad, better torn by hand. Love keeping the traditions going.

    my mother-in-law bottled simple tomatoes with basil and salt as well.

  3. I recently spent some time with my grandmother doing the same. I feel very lucky I got to witness her gestures and grasped a bit of her culinary wisdom. I love the concept of preserving the season, too. It is one I miss since I moved far away from a bountiful vegetable garden. Beautiful photos, too, E. Love all of this.

    • Emiko Davies says:

      I wish I could turn back the clock and sit with my grandmother (or Marco’s grandmother!) in the kitchen. Very special that you’ve done that with your nonna. I recently met an elderly woman who used to be a chef in a restaurant in Capalbio and we sat in her kitchen and talked recipes – the best! There’s nothing like passing on that knowledge by voice or by watching. x

  4. Oleksandr says:

    It,s nice recipe. I do in my restaurant only tomato , onion ,Apple and use for pizza sauce in winter, when fresh tomato is expensive.

  5. Ewa says:

    Hi Emiko:

    Thank you for your wonderful recipes. I’ve never seen a rabbit in our store but wonder if another type of meat might replace it in this recipe. I’m thinking in particular about using this method to cook the pastured heritage chickens that I buy here. They are tough and much unlike conventional chicken. Unless you could suggest another method?

    Thank you so much, Ewa

  6. Grace says:

    Hi Emiko,

    Thank you for the lovely recipe and post.

    Do you use a boiling canner or pressure canner to seal the tomato sauce in glass jars? Or do you simply re-heat the sauce after milling, fill glass jars with sauce, add olive oil, seal lid and wait for the “pop” sound? It will be my first time canning and I’m concerned about food safety if it’s the latter.

    Thank you,

    • Emiko Davies says:

      I don’t use a canner but we usually do as you say — fill the jars with the hot sauce, then close the lids and boil the jars to seal them (about 10 minutes). You’ll hear them pop as they cool!

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