I made sausage and peppers last weekend, ahead of a trip to Sagaponack that Ben and I took to visit friends, because I knew it would feed us until we left, and the weather has gotten cool enough that a warm pile of sausage with tangy peppers and onions sounded ideal. We had access to a car and wanted a break from the city for a bit, so this past Monday we piled into the creaky Subaru Hannah asked us to babysit and made our way out east. (I ate the last hunks of sausage and sautéd potatoes cold while Ben packed the trunk—my prediction being true down to the minute.)
It was as good a week as last week could have been, filled with morning walks on the beach with our dog Edie, fresh seafood, and chilly evenings around a fire with glasses of fizzy wine. When the news started getting bad, I had texted my father, looking for a bit of comfort. He replied that he wished he could give it to me, but that the situation was looking dire. I put my phone down, closed my computer, walked out of the door and stood barefoot in the grass, the sun warming my shoulders.
We left the Hamptons early yesterday, the Subaru filled with estate sale treasures and apple pie, and drove the three hours to my parents’ place in New Jersey for my mother’s chicken parmigiana. After dinner was over, and the apple pie sat sliced in front of us, the conversation turned again, naturally, to the news. Ben turned to my father and asked him if he thought things in the world were as bad as they are now when he and my mother got married.
It’s a question we’ve been dissecting since we got engaged—one that I’ve been turning over in my head for a while. We’ve noticed our gazes shifting since April, as we start to talk about children less hypothetically and more imminently. Could things have always felt this chaotic? It’s impossible, right? How does anyone find the hope to bring another life into a world that feels like it’s spinning out of control?
But my father nodded his head. Of course things felt as out of control then as they do now, he said, because there has always been evil and ugliness and chaos in the world. And, sadly, it feels like there will always be. The hope, he told us, comes from the idea that maybe the person you create will be instrumental in some kind of change, whether it’s on a global scale or just in their own neighborhood. Things will always feel out of control. But you can’t stand paralyzed by fear or stick your head in the sand and ignore it. You need to keep that hope for the future in order to soldier on. In that moment, my father provided Ben and me with the comfort I’d been looking for all week, and I felt the smallest sigh of relief.
It’s fitting that, without meaning to, the recipes that I’ve been reaching for and sharing here have all been a version of comfort food. I’ve needed it recently, and I’ve found that it manifests in different ways. If food is how you cope, this sausage and peppers is the meal equivalent of a warm hug. It won’t solve most things outside a grumbling stomach. But as I love to say, sometimes that is enough.
I hope you’re taking care.
xx Maria
INGREDIENTS
1 lb of Italian sausages (I like a mixture of hot and sweet)
2 medium bell peppers, thinly sliced
1 large onion, thinly sliced
1 large or 2 small Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into cubes
Olive oil
Red or white vinegar (you probably won’t need more than 2 cups)
INSTRUCTIONS
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place sausages on a foil-lined banking sheet. Bake until browned, turning at least once, about 30-40 minutes.
Meanwhile, add a few glugs of olive oil to a large skillet. Add peppers, onions, and potatoes and sauté, stirring, until all ingredients are soft and slightly browned, about 20-30 minutes. If brown bits start to stick to the bottom of the pan, use a little of your vinegar to deglaze.
Remove the sausages from the oven and let sit for a few minutes. Cut them into chunks and throw them in with your pepper and potato mixture. (You can also pour in any rendered fat from the sausages that’s hanging out on your baking sheet.)
Mix until all ingredients are combined. Serve warm, either on its own or piled into a big Italian roll.
Mmmm...... Delish! Thanks for posting this!