My daughter press ganged me and the Grandson to make a batch of Passata.
Numerous Tomatoes had to be cored and blanched for this process. It felt like a tonne.
I got my grandson to stoop below the counter, too make it appear there was an ‘Everest’ of tomatoes waiting to be prepared.
This was all a ploy, to to make the daughter realise that we both deserved a special treat of Lasagne washed down with a decent Shiraz for me and a Raspberry “Fire Engine” for John.