The first person I called for advice before writing this article was Pop — that is, my dad, Robert DiResto, 84.

After all, I learned how to cook as a child from him, standing at his elbow in a kitchen on Long Island, New York, where he still lives. I wanted to get his recommendation as to which meal would be the best choice — although I already had a notion.

After some banter about this meal or that, I began to hint at the ingredients I was considering. He immediately blurted out, “Oh yeah, you mean Sunday sauce!”

When I point out that some people call it “Sunday gravy,” he grimaced through the phone: “Ech, we didn’t call it that, but wha’do-I-know?”

Before I can dispute the point, his enthusiasm rises again, and he said, “Now let me tell you my best memory of Sunday sauce,” and he’s o

See Full Page