There’s a stretch of water between the Bombie and the ramp in Gordon’s Bay that always felt a little different — darker, deeper, slightly more mysterious.

the sauce

I first met Bart, better known as Nonno Bart, on a work shoot. Between stories of 3am Napoli wake-ups, homemade wine, limoncello and espresso, it became clear he was the right man for the job.

A few years and one very unnecessary joke later, the Crusties found themselves at Bart’s place with crates of Roma tomatoes, empty jars, and minimal useful skills. Under Bart’s watchful eye, the sauce was boiled, squeezed, bottled and preserved. Eighty jars later, Marinara Trench Sauce was born.