Ammoglio

Ammoglio: The Sicilian Sauce That Never Got a Spelling

If you grew up in an Italian-American household with roots in Sicily, there's a good chance you know this sauce — even if you've never seen its name written down. Ask five different families how to spell it and you'll get five different answers: ammoglio, amogio, ammoghio, amogiu, amorgia. Some households even pronounce it u morgia. There's no single "correct" version, because for generations this sauce wasn't written at all. It was passed down by hand, by smell, and by taste, from one home cook to the next.

In Warren, Michigan, where I grew up in the 1970s, you were either Polish or Italian. It was so cool to be Italian - all the popular kids were Italian. The Italians had famous Hollywood characters like Rocky Balboa and Vinnie Barbarino. There was the whole "Godfather" thing, too. Sadly, I was born on the Polish side of the tracks. Instead of wearing Italian horn gold chain necklaces, and wearing 1st Holy Communion dresses that rivaled wedding dresses, we were the butt of all the Polish jokes. We got called "Polacks" on the playground (it wasn't a compliment). I secretly hoped my brown hair looked almost black like the girls in "in" crowd. In the summer, my singular goal was to work on my tan to transform my pale Eastern bloc complexion into something that looked a little more Mediterranean by laying out in the sun drenched in a homemade mixture of baby oil and Mercurochrome that allegedly guaranteed a deep dark tan. I wanted to pass as an Italian.

A Sauce with No Recipe Card

Ammoglio is, at its heart, a raw or barely-cooked blend of tomatoes, garlic, olive oil, and herbs — the kind of thing a resourceful Sicilian cook could pull together from whatever was ripening in the garden that week. Unlike a simmered Sunday sauce that takes all day on the stove, ammoglio comes together in minutes and is traditionally served at room temperature, more condiment than cooked sauce.

A Sauce Built for Summer

Part of what's kept ammoglio alive is how forgiving it is. There's no roux to master, no long simmer to babysit, no risk of scorching. It rewards good tomatoes and good olive oil more than it rewards precision, which is exactly why it thrives as a late-summer dish, when tomatoes are at their sweetest and basil is taking over the garden. Most people agree it actually improves after a day in the fridge, once the garlic has had a chance to mellow and the flavors have had time to introduce themselves to each other.

Whether you spell it ammoglio, amogio, or something else entirely, the sauce itself has stayed remarkably consistent in spirit: tomatoes, garlic, oil, and herbs, blended into something greater than the sum of its parts.

Ammoglio

A raw, no-cook tomato sauce — bright, garlicky, and best made when tomatoes are at their peak. Serve at room temperature over breaded steak, grilled chicken, pasta, or crusty bread. Also makes a great base for gazpacho!

Ingredients

• 1 whole head of garlic, peeled

• ¼ cup extra virgin olive oil

• 2 tablespoons dried Italian seasoning, or 3 tablespoons fresh basil leaves + 1 tablespoon fresh oregano

• 2 pints cherry tomatoes, stems removed, or 2 pounds full-size tomatoes, cored and roughly chopped

• Juice of 1 lemon

• Salt and pepper, to taste

Instructions

1. Combine the garlic, olive oil, and herbs in a blender and process until smooth.

2. Add the tomatoes and pulse until finely chopped (not pureed — you want some texture).

3. Add lemon juice and season with salt and pepper to taste.

A note on resting it: Like most raw sauces, ammoglio tends to taste even better after it sits for a few hours, or overnight in the fridge, once the garlic mellows and the flavors settle in together.