“Tomato day. Oh God, if anyone ever found out about it I’d die.”*

These were the words of 17-year-old Josie Alibrandi, the protagonist in Melina Marchetta’s 1992 iconic novel, ‘Looking for Alibrandi.’

For most Australians, that required reading for Year 10s marked their first foray into what is affectionately known as Passata Day. For us Italians, we already knew what it meant. And unlike Josie, I was never ashamed of this tradition. Maybe because I grew up around an Italian community, so it never felt out of place to spend one weekend with the family, sitting around crates of tomatoes.

And thanks to TikTok, Passata Day is having a bit of a revival. What once felt like an old-school family chore is now being romanticised, filmed, and re-shared… and I’m not mad about it.

Calmati. We’ll get to the steps. I know this is starting to sound like one of those recipe blogs where you have to scroll past a life story to find the actual recipe. But first, I need to address a few things nonna would never let me skip.

So, what exactly is passata?

Passata is pure, smooth and uncooked tomato purée. It’s used as the base for sauces, stews, and just about anything that calls for that deep tomato flavour. In most Italian households, it’s a pantry staple. Every year, families buy boxes of ripe tomatoes, set up an assembly line, and spend the day blanching, peeling, crushing, and bottling. It’s a full-day operation, usually done in bulk, and with everyone pitching in.

It is not tomato paste or canned tomatoes, and definitely not a chunky sauce.

In Australia, tomatoes are at their prime in February (the hottest month of the year). Some families make passata in late February, but in ours, it’s always been a Labour Day weekend tradition in March.

Disclaimer:

I’m sharing the Abruzzese way of making passata. Every region swears by its method, and every family has its own secret to the perfect sauce. And, of course, everyone thinks that theirs is the right way. Remember, Italy was only unified in 1861, and even now, most regions still consider themselves as their own separate kingdom. Especially when it comes to food.

This recipe is also in bulk, because my family never understood the meaning of ‘moderation,’ and I don’t know how to scale it down.

What you’ll need (according to nonna)

Essentials:

• Ripe tomatoes, and lots of them (think crates, not kilos)
• Large metal drum, for blanching the tomatoes and boiling the bottles
• A good paring knife, for scoring tomatoes before blanching
• Tomato press or mouli, to remove skins and seeds
• Gas burner and canister (your heat source)
• Long-necked glass bottles, clean and ready to be filled
• Strainer, to transfer the boiling hot tomatoes into the mouli
• Muslin cloth, for holding and blanching large batches of tomatoes at once
• Plastic tub with nozzle, to catch the passata from the mouli and transfer it into bottles
• Clean tea towels & cloths, for wiping, drying, and general chaos control
• Chairs, because your legs will get tired
• Family or friends, for helping hands and good company
• Snacks and coffee, essential fuel for the long day
• An outdoor setup, because it gets messy and you don’t want to have to deal with the aftermath in your kitchen.

Optional:

• Italian music blaring from someone’s phone. The older, the better. Here’s our playlist.
• Fresh basil and sliced red capsicum, for adding to bottles
• Aprons, because someone will get splashed
• Someone documenting the chaos, because you’ll want remember your first
• Salt and basil, for flavour and preservation.

How to make passata like nonna

1. Wash and sort the tomatoes

Sort through your tomatoes for any bruised, overripe, or rotten ones. Toss anything too far gone: one bad tomato can spoil the batch. Use a paring knife to cut out blemishes or dodgy bits. Then, give all the tomatoes a good rinse to remove any dirt or dust. 

2. Blanch the tomatoes

Bring a large pot (or metal drum) of water to a boil over your gas burner. Wrap your clean tomatoes in the muslin sheet, grab all four corners and tie into a sack or pouch. Lower gently into the water. Blanch for about 3-5 minutes, until the skins start to loosen.

3. Transfer.

Lift the sheet out with a slotted spoon or strainer (my dad slides a big wooden pole through the cloth – think like a bindle) and transfer them to a tub or tray to cool.

4. Pass the tomatoes through the mouli.

Use the strainer to scoop out the hot tomatoes and then pass them through the mouli. This contraption separates the seeds and skin from the actual sauce. Catch the passata in a plastic tub with a nozzle, which makes bottling way easier. Some people run the pulp through twice to get every last bit of sauce, and we do this at the very end.

At this point, my dad throws in some salt. I couldn’t tell you how much: not out of secrecy, but because, like most Italian cooking, it’s all instinct. Measurements? Never heard of her.

5. Pour and bottle the passata.

Using the nozzle from your tub, pour the passata into clean, sterilised bottles. Leave a few inches from the top so the passata can expand. You can add a basil leaf or thin slice of red or green capsicum before pouring in the passata, if that’s your family’s style. Screw the lids on tight. Any lids that don’t seal should be discarded.

6. Boil the bottles.

Line your large metal drum or pot with tea towels or cloths to cushion the bottles. Double check to ensure the lids are tightly secure. Place the bottles inside, cover with cold water, and bring to a boil. Let them boil gently for about 2-4 hours.

7. Cool and store.

Turn off the heat and leave the bottles to cool completely overnight before removing them. Then, dry off the bottles and store them somewhere dark and cool until you use them.

Finito.

To keep the day running smoothly, try to have one or two people at every station, because blanching, peeling, pressing, bottling, and boiling all move faster (and with less chaos) when everyone has a clear role.

Could I have told you this sooner? Sure

I’ve just shared the process on how to make the passata. But what I didn’t mention is the preparation beforehand. Let’s rewind for a sec, because you probably have a few questions.

Where do I buy the tomatoes?

It goes without saying that you’ll need to purchase the tomatoes in advance (please, not from Coles or Woolworths). How many do you need? Well, how long is a piece of string? How often will you be making meals with passata sauce? How many people do you want to feed? How long do you want the bottles to last?

What I can tell you is to look for the San Marzano tomatoes in food markets. These are classified as DOP (“Denominazione di Origine Protetta,” which translates to “Protected Designation of Origin). While they are admittedly rare to find in Australia, the second best option is Roma tomatoes. 

Also, generally speaking, 1 kg of tomatoes will give you 750g of passata.

What do I do the day before?

If you can get a few things out of the way beforehand, it will make such a huge difference before the main event. Tasks like:

• Laying out all the tomatoes on a blanket, spaced apart so you can easily spot any that are overripe or starting to rot (one bad tomato can spoil the bunch). Don’t forget to cover them with a fruit netting sheet, so flies, bugs and other animals don’t get to them before you do.
• Buying the gas canister and keep it somewhere cool, like your garage. You’ll be starting early in the morning, and Bunnings won’t be open – or worse, they’ll be out of stock.
• Washing all the bottles and finding matching lids that screw on tightly. Place the bottles upside down in crates and cover them until you need to use them.
• Setting up all your equipment and stations (if it’s undercover, like in a garage).

What time should we start making passata?

Early. Like, beat-the-heat, coffee-in-hand-by-7am early. The earlier you start, the less likely you’ll be bottling in 35°C heat. Plus, once it’s all over, you’ll need to boil a portion of the passata (again, and for a while) if you want to have it in time for lunch.

What do I wear?

It goes without saying that passata day gets messy. So, try to avoid wearing white or light-coloured clothes. And leave the Gucci, Versace, and Armani at home. In saying that, anything goes: wear whatever you’re most comfortable in, and something that you won’t miss if tomatoes splatter all over it (they’re almost impossible to remove).

My personal preference is to wear black. Because I’m from Melbourne, and I’m Italian.

This year, I wore a black tie-up playsuit over a cropped red tank; last year, it was black overalls with a black tube top. Both times, a red hair accessory of some sort sealed the deal. Low effort but cute.

Keep in mind the last week of February/early March is generally hot, so you’ll want something breathable, and easy to move in.

Lastly, wear comfortable shoes. You’ll be moving around all day.

And that’s passata day.

It’s messy, it’s hot, it takes forever… and yet somehow, we still look forward to it every year. So, there you have it: that’s how we make passata. You might not follow it exactly how nonna did when it’s your turn, but the point is, you’re still doing it. And that’s enough.

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CREDITS

HERO PHOTO micheile henderson on Unsplash /  EXCERPT* Melina Marchetta, Looking for Alibrandi, 1st ed. (Penguin Australia, 1992), p. 171.