1. Heat the olive oil in a large skillet or saucepan over medium heat. When it’s shimmering, add the chopped onion and sauté gently until soft and translucent, about 6-8 minutes. This slow cooking brings out a sweetness that feels like a secret handshake between ingredients.
2. Add the minced garlic and cook for another 1-2 minutes until fragrant. Be careful not to let it brown too much—burnt garlic can turn the whole sauce bitter.
3. Pour in the crushed tomatoes, stirring to combine. If you’re using whole tomatoes, crush them by hand or with a spoon right in the pan. This is where the sauce starts to come alive, simple ingredients swirling together like old friends.
4. Add oregano, basil, red pepper flakes (if using), and sugar. Stir well and bring the mixture to a gentle simmer. Lower the heat and let it cook uncovered for about 25-30 minutes, stirring occasionally. The sauce will thicken and deepen in color. This slow simmer is where the magic happens, just like Mama Lu’s Sunday pot roasts that tasted like time itself.
5. Taste and season with salt and pepper, adjusting as you go. This step is crucial—flavor should feel balanced, like a story that makes sense from start to finish.
6. Once the sauce reaches your desired thickness, remove from heat. If you like, stir in fresh basil or parsley right before serving for that burst of herbal brightness.
7. Serve immediately over your favorite cooked pasta, topped with a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese if you wish. The sauce clings to the noodles, wrapping them in that warmth only homemade can bring.

“Recipes weren’t written,” Mama Lu used to say. “They were remembered. Shared by heart, with a pinch of salt and a whole lot of soul.” This sauce is my way of keeping her memory alive in every bite.