I wouldn't dream of serving your family fresh-made marinara sauce. Sure I start fresh, but like a fine wine, my marinara is aged to bloom into its robust perfection. Tomatoes love sunshine. That's why I only use those happy tomatoes from the lush San Joaquin valley in Northern California. I then blend a full pound of herbs and spices into my rich and tangy pizza sauce. When you use that much it doesn't even begin to blossom until 12 hours later. At this point my marinara is very good. And I am breathlessly eager to enjoy some. But I wait. After a full 36 hours the flavor of the sauce explodes as each leaf and root and seed of every one of those herbs has relinquished its full essence. Because I want your eyes to roll up with delight at the first mouthwatering taste, I wait the full 36 hours to serve you the richest and most flavorful pizza sauce you've ever experienced. I suppose it would be cheaper to just use sugar and tomato paste like so many of the others. But you and I would both know the difference.