Spicy Spaghetti Sauce loaded with invisible vegetables


I’m hastily posting this recipe per the request of a close, known-just-about-all-my-life girlfriend.  Her name is Jodie, (note -ie NOT -y!), and we first met in kindergarten, Happyland, 55 years ago.  Man.  That’s pretty scary.  She lived one island way, down the street from my friend Andrea and one further island away lived our other best friend, Dana.  Jodie and I became close in high school…I believe a freshman year science class sealed the friendship.  We started to really hang out and party together.  And though all our parents were strict disciplinarians, we may have been the slightest bit wild.  Proper etiquette and good form were exacted, demanded of us. Not just proper manners or perfect posture but dignity and self-respect; not behaving “ladylike” but BEING a “lady”.  Jodie, unknowingly, taught me that lesson during one of our escapades gone wrong.  We all went to the same high school, Lauderdale High, which was one of the best public high school for miles both academically and athletically.  It was the week before Thanksgiving, our homecoming weekend, when the football game of the year was to be played with our arch rival, Stranahan.  We must have been sophomores because by then we were driving.  We had 5 minutes between bells to change classes and, for some forgotten reason or maybe even happenstance,  I found myself and four girls in the bathroom freshening our makeup, catching up on gossip or just goofing around.  Three of the girls had gone to Happyland with me: Jodie, Jody and Susie.

Andrea and me...probably up to no good.
Andrea and me…probably up to no good.

The fourth, Andrea, went to Miss Johnson’s for kindergarten but we all lived so close and our parents all knew each other that we don’t remember a time not knowing each other.   Anyway, we must have been chatting about homecoming because, on a spur of the moment lark, and without thinking, we had all tucked fat, black, permanent markers into our purses, thrown the top down on my Spider and were careening down the road headed towards Stranahan, home of our enemy, to teach them a lesson they would NEVER forget.  I was driving, Andrea had called shotgun, and the other three girls were sitting on top of the back of the car, feet on the seat.  Jeez.  THAT’S an accident waiting to happen.  And did we get pulled over, with all our hootin’ and hollerin’?  No.  No, we did not.  We pulled into Stranahan, parked and made our way in, trying to blend with all the students.  We headed towards the closest ladies room and waited for it to be vacated to begin our act of defiance. Out came the Sharpie; quickly and quietly we began our task.  We covered the putty-colored metal doors of the stalls with enormous outlines of our school logo, a “Flying L”.

The Flying L logo. We drew it everywhere!
The Flying L logo. We drew it everywhere!

We wrote slogans all over; on the walls and paper towel dispensers, leaving no doubt as to who was going to be the victor come Thanksgiving weekend.  In every spot we wrote “Flying L’s rule!” and “thrash Stranahan!” and “drown the dragons!”.  In no place, thank our most merciful Lord, did we use any bad language or curse words.  We hadn’t talked about what we were going to write; it just played out that way.  At breakneck speed we finished, dropped the markers back into our purses and made our way out of the school cool as cucumbers and back to my car.  Without warning, swiftly and out of nowhere we were surrounded by teachers and the police officers who were on school duty that day.  Oh God.  Where did they come from?  And how did they know?  They herded us through throngs of rubbernecking, nameless students to the principal’s office all the while our hearts were beating like rabbits on crack , our eyes huge with panic, darting back and forth to each other as if to telepathically say, “Oh my gosh!  What’ll we do?  Oh my gosh!  We’re dead!! Dead!!”.  It was at that moment I noticed Jodie walking close to me, tall and straight.  Ramrod straight.  Positively regal.  At her side was a chunky woman with short, blonde, frizzy hair (a real no-no), who reached out and roughly jerked Jodie by the arm, at the elbow, as if to keep her from running away, the imprint of her fingers leaving deep, red welts.  She turned to the teacher and without raising her voice she said coldly, “Get your hand off of me.  Don’t you dare touch me.”  I don’t think anyone heard except the rough and tumble teacher and me.  Jodie spoke those exact words with such gravity and formality as if she was a 70-year-old woman addressing an inferior upstart .  She wasn’t try to get away; we were all in trouble and we knew it.  We knew what we had done.  But touch me?  I don’t think so.  My friend never lost her cool, she never yelled or made a scene.  That teacher’s hand flew off of Jodie’s arm as though her arm was a screaming hot coal.  I was so impressed.  My friend showed such poise and reserve yet still managed to get her point across.  There was no need to get physical.  We were marched straight into the principal’s office where his secretary took down all of our names.  I looked over and saw that Susie was all hunched over crying and sniffling.  I looked at Andrea and we rolled our eyes at each other.  The principal lectured us…matter of fact he put the fear of God in us.  “If any of you girls step out of line, EVER, while in high school your parents will be notified, (Just kill us all right now, please. None of our parents put up with this kind of nonsense.), your principal will be notified and you will be suspended!”  And that was that.  He let us go.   NO ONE had been called or notified.  He let us go.  And we had used permanent marker!  Turns out that because not one dirty word or curse word was used he figured out that we were good girls that just weren’t thinking; we hadn’t thought about any repercussions never mind property damage.  We had done something foolish and stupid.  He ended his tongue-lashing with “Now I hope you girls have learned your lesson.  I don’t EVER want to see any of you around here.  Do I make myself clear?”  With a resounding “Yes, sir!  Thank you, sir!  I’m so sorry, sir!” we shuffled out of his office, heads hung low, our bodies limp with relief.  And, true to his word, our parents were never told.  Our principal never called any of us into his office or mentioned anything about that day.  Did we ever step out of line again?  Not in school.  Oh, hell no!  We had been reformed.  And that weekend we won our homecoming game.  Cleanly, exhibiting  honest athletic prowess, good sportsmanship and respectfulness.  Bup, this recipe is for you because you asked for it.  I will always appreciate the incredible example you unknowingly set when we were so young. You were a lady then and a lady now.  You make me proud!




Spicy Vegetable Spaghetti Sauce

Partially pureed sauce
Partially pureed sauce

Be fore-advised this is a low and slow cooking sauce.  4-6 hours will give you a thick, rich sauce.

I like a bit of texture to my sauce so this this the most I puree it.
I like a bit of texture to my sauce so this this the most I puree it.

yield: 2 1/2 quarts, depending on the size of tomatoes and length of cooking time

  • 5 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 medium onions, chopped
  • 1 head of garlic, peeled and chopped
  • 6-7 medium sized organic carrots, sliced into rounds 1/4″ thick
  • 12 medium to large, very ripe tomatoes
  • 2 large zucchini, grated using the large holes of a box grater
  • 1 tablespoon dried oregano
  • 1 tablespoon dried basil
  • red pepper flakes to taste, I use about 1 tablespoon
  • 3/4 of a 6-ounce can tomato paste
  • salt and pepper to taste
  • grated parmesan cheese, optional

Perfect for those nights when you treat your family to a pasta dinner!

    Perfect for those nights when you treat your family to a pasta dinner!



  1. Heat olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot and add onions, stirring and cooking until clear.
  2. Add garlic and carrots stirring well to coat with the olive oil.  If needed, drop the heat down to avoid scorching.
  3. Cut the cleaned tomatoes into eighth, cut off and discard stem pieces and add tomatoes to pot, again, stirring well.  The pot should be bubbling gently, uncovered.
  4.  Place the grated zucchini on a clean, cotton dish towel, gather up the corners and, over the sink, twist the ball of zucchini to drain off as much water as you can.  There’s a ton of water in that zucchini and you want to get out as much as you can or you’ll have a watery sauce.
  5. Add oregano and basil and red pepper flakes if using, stir well and simmer on medium-low, partially covered for 4-6 hours or whatever time allows.
  6. With an immersion blender or conventional blender puree fully cooked sauce to desired texture taking care not to burn yourself.  If using a conventional blender return sauce to pot.
  7. Add tomato paste and stir until completely incorporated.
  8. Taste for seasonings and add salt and pepper as needed.
  9. Serve over al dente spaghetti and top with freshly grated parmesan cheese if desired.


  1. Bup

    Oh Bup! You warm my heart! I love our rich history together! “Guts of a burglar” is how “Y” used to describe me. We were young and fearless… My kids are old enough now that it’s time to share this story. ( I didn’t want them using this story as leverage, if you know what I mean) Growing up in Ft. Lauderdale back in the 70’s~ It was the best! I’m printing this recipe. Thanks! p.s. I don’t know about the rest of you but I was called in to the Dean’s office on Mon, She gave me detention but I swear, as God as my witness, she smiled and said “good job” as I walked out of her office! =>

    1. Alicia

      Stop!! Really??? Dean Dunson never said word one to me about that. He did about cutting classes but never our Stranahan debacle. I’m eternally grateful none of us used any dirty words. With my potty mouth what’s the chance of THAT happening??!!

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