Watch CapOne of the nifty things about this place is the sheer amount of talent abounding for the making of sausage. It is worth noting that the local instance of high-end food chain hasn't quite gotten it right yet, while the doldrum, monopolistic grocery concern can crank out a petty good sausage. There's no excuse for settling for that, though: the thing to do is find a local deli and walk down to the end where the little hand lettered sign sits, proclaiming sausage. If you're lucky, the sausage will be identified by the name of the person who put it together. It will glisten in the deli case.
I had some kale. I had some sausage; I fried it gently pierced in the bottom of a pot. Out came the sausage, a little water to release the fond, then onions. More time, more flame, more fond, more water. Then, a bit more water and chopped kale, eager to turn dark green from the wet heat. The sausage got sliced and sat merry on the kale. Good things filled the house.
While all of that was going on, a pot of polenta burbled gently on the next burner over. When all was ready, the polenta went into a bowl, topped with sausage and onion and kale. I put a hat of grated cheese on that, and grabbed a big spoon. There is no weather that can compete with this.
There was a bunch of of the sausage and kale left over from that; tonight I folded it into a quick pot of lentils. It is cold out there tonight, and the winter wraps fingers on the wavy panes. Between supper and this cup of tea, it knows it is not wanted here.
All content under copyright by the author. Dancing is permitted. The strange deltic glyphs in the sand under tidal flow are a pleasure to watch in their deepening. Offer not valid in Kansas. We put it down and then we lost it. It all happens in the corner of the eye. Commentary accepted at pen@goob.com, although the traps are agressive and the pointy bits simply drip with dark liquour. We have a dog, but we do not own it. Thank you.