On the calendar of cherished family traditions, Gravy Day has always been a red-letter day

Yearly traditions come in all shapes and forms, but for my family, there’s one we look forward to the most. The day on the calendar we all get amped for is when we fill jars. What are we filling the jars with? Gravy of course … or tomato sauce for the non-Italian readers. The all-day event has developed all sorts of names over the years. Some call it Gravy Day, Operation: Fill Jars, or “doin’ tomatoes” as some would put it.

It’s been a Carbonetta family tradition since my grandmother immigrated from Perano, Italy. We called her Nonni. The “i” meaning the plural in Italian, I called her “grandparents” as a kid, not knowing. Being as capable as she was though, the name fit. She was like a few grandparents in one. It’s become a Carbonetta custom for as long as I can remember. Even when the process was too intense for kids, my cousins and I would open and prep Mason jar lids for the adults. Despite Nonni passing in 2020, we’ve
kept the tradition alive and well. Although we’ve made changes and invited newcomers, we’ve never lost that original spirit.

Every year is charming in its own way with our wacky antics recorded by my mom. There was a year where we decided to wear red bandanas, dicing up tomatoes like we were ninjas. Odd and deformed tomatoes unfit for the gravy become our yearly mascots. Without fail, we’ll find a “theme song” to play throughout the day to dance along to while cooking. I’ve even had friends come over in their grandma’s old pink aprons to get a rise out of the party.

It’s a sight to behold and every family member can think of at least a few people that want to drop by and check out the action. That’s usually followed up with questions like “how can I help?” or “what’s the process here?” Well, I’m glad you asked.

Four bushels of handpicked New Jersey farm cherry tomatoes at a time will go into a sink to wash and cut. We’ll remove any bruises or blemishes so the tomatoes are in the best condition. We’ll do 60 to 80 bushels a year. Once those are ready, they’ll travel from a bucket into a boiling pot of water to cook. The tomatoes stay in the pot until we finish debating how cooked they should be. It’s always a conversation but I usually stick with a general rule of thumb. We’ll know they’re ready when you can almost poke your finger right through one.

The cooked tomatoes then get scooped into an old-school Italian meat grinder. That pesky machine is always a treat first thing in the morning. The instructions are in Italian and only some of us speak it, so it takes a village to get that bad boy running. The tomatoes grind, with the sauce going into a bucket and the skins collecting in a pan. The skins pass through the grinder once for extra sauce with the second batch dumped in the trash. Rinse, repeat.

Next comes the boiling of the sauce; on large burners pots of the gravy will go. Some people choose to season it right then, but we opt not to besides salt. My brother is our designated salt pourer, and with about a palm full of salt, seasons the sauce as it heats. Once it comes to a boil, it goes into the Mason jar, sealed, ready for consumption.

While the tradition has been around for about 50 years here, some have tweaked their jarring methods over time. Some add basil to the bottom of the jar, some pack their jars upside down, et cetera. While I’ve tried every way, I’m here to report that all methods of paisano pseudoscience lead to no wrong answers.

After we clean up, and everyone has worked up a sweat in the August heat, we all gather to enjoy the fruit of the labor. Someone will get ahead of cooking pounds of pasta during the day for us to try the gravy. We’ll sit together and judge it compared to years past. Sometimes, it’s thicker, while some can be more watery. We still wonder why the results vary from year to year, but the sauce always turns out tasty and authentic.

I gained a new perspective for jarring gravy in the past few years. I had the chance to help out in Italy with Nonni’s family who still live there. It was an unforgettable experience. Nonni was one of six and the only one to immigrate to America. With that in mind, I was curious about what she kept from her Italian roots and what she developed from America. Most of the process remains the same. The only real differences to note are that the Italians grow their own tomatoes and don’t put salt in their jars.

While the process is only one day on the calendar, it never fails to be a popular topic year round. Whether at dinner parties or work events, it almost always comes up in conversation. The curiosity builds and people would love to come try it out. Given that we make a surplus, sharing jars is one way my family invites close ones into our tradition. Whether it’s a gift or token of appreciation, valuable friends see it as a family invite of sorts. 

Anthony Carbonetta is a writer and filmmaker from Philadelphia. He has toured Italy with family in Perano and beyond. While
exploring his family tree, he wrote a bio-graphy on his family’s migration. Along with working on films and commercials, he is a freelance copywriter. For more on him, visit https://anthonycarbonetta.wordpress.com