Every Italian-American will tell you that his or her mother/grandmother makes the best pasta sauce. They wax poetic about how Mama or Nona simmers it for hours and adds a secret list of ingredients passed on via oral tradition since the days of The Old Country. Invariably, the pasta is served beneath a soup like, watery, acidic tomato broth. One would think it would at least be up to the quality of ’80s slogan: “It’s In There. I like Chicken French, but the name shoves an image into my head of the chef putting his tongue all over my food, and that makes me like it less.
I didn’t find the right solution from the internet.