New Recipe: Homemade Pizza Sauce Recipe (The Way I Actually Make It)

Let’s Chat About Pizza Sauce—And Why You’ll Want to Make This

So here’s the thing—I never really planned on becoming “the pizza sauce person” in my friend group. But, here we are. One time, my nephew told me my sauce tasted “like a hug,” and honestly, I didn’t know if that meant cozy or slightly squishy, but I’ll take it either way. I’ve honestly lost count of how many times I’ve dripped a ladle of this stuff across the countertop while getting a little too enthusiastic about pizza night. Maybe that’s my signature move.

Quick sidebar: If you’ve ever tried scraping cold pizza sauce out of the jar when you’re already starving, you know why making your own is worth it. Trust me, this is way better than anything lurking in the back of your fridge, probably next to that jar of pickles you forgot about (or is that just me?).

Why This Sauce Gets Me Out of Bed (Maybe Too Dramatic?)

I make this when I want the house to smell like I actually know what I’m doing in the kitchen—even if sometimes I, uh, don’t. My family goes a bit bananas every time I do a pizza night (especially if I let them spoon on extra sauce—messy but fun). Plus, I love that it’s not fussy; if I forget to buy fresh basil, nobody’s going to report me to the pizza police. Well, except for my cousin, but she complains about everything (love ya, Jess!).

And let me tell you, I’ve tried those bland store-bought ones that taste more like tomato paste than actual sauce. Ugh. This one’s punchy, herby, and, weirdly enough, makes leftover bread taste like a treat the next day. (Actually, I think it tastes even better cold. Is that weird?)

What You’ll Need (Give or Take a Few Things)

• 1 can (about 400g) of crushed tomatoes—or use whole peeled ones and squish ’em with your hands if you’re feeling rustic (my grandma swore by San Marzano, but tinned tomatoes from Aldi work just as well, to be honest)
• 2-3 cloves garlic, minced (sometimes I use a teaspoon of garlic powder when I’m feeling lazy)
• 2 tbsp olive oil (I’ve used sunflower oil in a pinch; nobody noticed)
• 1 tsp dried oregano (fresh is fancy, but dried’s easier)
• 1/2 tsp dried basil (or a small handful of fresh, chopped, if you have it and, you know, remembered to buy it)
• Pinch of red pepper flakes (skip this if you don’t like heat, or double it if you’re a daredevil… or if you just like living on the edge)
• 1/2 tsp sugar (I sometimes skip this if the tomatoes taste sweet enough)
• Salt and pepper to taste (start small—you can always add more, but, as I learned the hard way, you can’t exactly take it back)

How Do I Actually Make This?

1. First, grab a medium saucepan. Drizzle in the olive oil and let it heat up over medium. Chuck in your garlic (don’t let it brown! I once got distracted and it tasted kind of burnt—lesson learned).
2. This is where I usually sneak a taste of the oil-garlic mix, even though I know it’s basically just hot oil. Anyway, when it smells amazing, add your tomatoes. If you’re using whole tomatoes, squish them by hand, but be warned: sometimes the juice goes everywhere. Wear an apron, or don’t—I’m not your boss.
3. Stir in oregano, basil, red pepper flakes, and that little bit of sugar if you want. Let it come up to a gentle simmer.
4. Let it bubble away for 20-25 minutes, stirring now and then. (Don’t worry if it looks a bit weird at this stage—it always does! It thickens up eventually.)
5. Taste for salt and pepper. Add a bit, taste again. Oh, and this is where you can add a splash of water if it’s looking super thick, or simmer longer if it’s soupy.
6. Take off the heat and let it cool a bit before slathering on your pizza. Or, if you’re like me, dip a piece of bread in there while pretending you’re being “precise.” (You’re not. It’s fine!)

Notes From the Frontlines (AKA My Kitchen Mishaps)

• I’ve found that letting the sauce cool a bit before using it makes it spread easier—and actually, I think it helps the flavors show up more.
• If you add too much sugar, just balance with a splash of vinegar (white wine or apple cider both work).
• Once, I tried blending it for a super smooth texture, but then it felt too fancy for my taste. Chunky is good!

Variations (Things I’ve Tried—Some Winners, Some Duds)

• Swapped in a teaspoon of smoked paprika—added a nice little kick, but my nephew hated it (kids, right?).
• Added chopped fresh rosemary once. Honestly, I wouldn’t do it again, but maybe that’s just me.
• Sometimes I toss in a splash of balsamic vinegar for depth. Not traditional, but I like it—especially with roasted veggie pizzas.

Gear You Kinda Need (But Maybe Not)

A saucepan is pretty key here—but if you’ve only got a deep frying pan, that’ll do fine. I once made this in a battered old camping pot. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked.

If you’ve got a stick blender and want a smoother sauce, go wild. Or, just mash things with a fork for a rustic vibe.

How I Store It (When There’s Actually Leftovers)

I’ll be honest, in my house it never lasts more than a day. But if you manage to hide some, keep it in a jar or airtight container in the fridge for up to 4 days. Or freeze it in small batches (ice cube trays are handy for this—thanks to The Kitchn for that tip I stole). It reheats just fine on the stovetop or even in the microwave, though the flavor is best the next day, oddly enough.

How I Like to Serve It (And a Family Quirk)

Obvious answer: On pizza, of course. But it’s also brilliant as a dipping sauce for cheesy breadsticks (my brother-in-law dunks chicken nuggets in it, which is… a choice). Every Friday, we do a DIY pizza night and everyone gets their own bowl of sauce—for “maximum control,” according to my daughter. Kids, huh?

Actually, I’ve even used this sauce as a base for a speedy pasta dinner when I’m too lazy to make anything else. Sprinkle on a bit of parm and call it a meal.

What I’ve Learned Not to Mess Up (Pro Tips, Sort Of)

• I once tried to rush the simmering step and regretted it. You really want to let the flavors get to know each other. 15 minutes is the bare minimum, but 25-30 is better, unless you’re absolutely starving.
• Don’t be tempted to load up on herbs at the start, thinking more is better. It can end up tasting a bit muddy. Been there, done that.
• Actually, if you forget the sugar, it’s not the end of the world—but if you overdo it, you’ll be chasing that sweetness with acid for ages.

Real Questions I Get (And My Not-So-Perfect Answers)

Does it work with fresh tomatoes?
Sort of! I’ve tried it in late summer with garden tomatoes. You have to blanch and peel them, and honestly, it’s a bit of a faff, but it tastes bright and fresh. If you can be bothered, go for it. Serious Eats has a decent guide if you wanna get technical.

Can I make it ahead of time?
Oh, definitely. In fact, I think it tastes better the next day. Just reheat gently and you’re good to go.

Is it freezer-friendly?
Yep! Just let it cool and scoop it into a zip-top bag or whatever container you’ve got. Pull it out when you need emergency pizza (which, let’s face it, is more often than you’d think).

Do I need to cook it at all? Can’t I just mix ingredients cold?
Alright, I’ve done the “no-cook” version when I’m feeling lazy. It’s… fine. But simmering makes it taste richer, I think. Plus, the house smells nice, and who doesn’t want that?

How much sauce does this make?
About enough for two standard pizzas or one really saucy one. Or, if you snack on it with bread while cooking like me, maybe a bit less.

So there you go—my not-so-secret, slightly chaotic pizza sauce. If you make it, let me know how it goes. Or don’t. I’ll be over here eating mine straight from the pan.