Despite a poor year for pollination (terrible Bee shortage in the Midwest), my garden has produced it's first sizable tomatoes and I am taking part of this day, my day off, to cook my first pot of garden-fresh tomato sauce.
I've got The Godfather soundtrack going, the garlic frying and readying for entry into the pot. The peppers will soon be diced, the Italian sausage will be browning shortly, and the skinning of the tomatoes will commence in mere moments.
Then, like a beautiful symphony in harmonious concert, all the ingredients will be mixed together emitting an aroma I believe heaven will smell like. I don't know what manna was, but if it wasn't pasta and sauce, I'd be disappointed (certainly the Hebrew would reveal something about the same root word for "manna" and "roma").
So, this post must end...it has to. I am called to the large pot on the stove and the full joy that awaits as the house fills with a garlic-basil-oregano-stewing tomato fragrance. This pot will be called "Ode to Sicily". Oh...I have to go, "Connie's Song" just started on the soundtrack, I can picture Clemenza teaching Michael Corleone how to make sauce even now!