St. Louis-style ribs

Yesterday I decided to attempt to make St. Louis-style ribs for the first time on the smoker. It was in the 90’s so babysitting a fire was hot stuff. I didn’t even take too many photos since it was too hot to leave my phone outside for any amount of time. Our back deck is full sun all day long. 🔥 

What exactly are St. Louis- style ribs? St. Louis-style spare ribs are the meatier ribs cut from the hog’s belly after the belly is removed. St. Louis-style ribs are flatter than baby back ribs, which makes them easier to brown. There is a lot of bone but also a higher amount of fat, making them very flavorful.

I made a spice rub for the ribs. I just threw spices into a bowl with some brown sugar and kosher salt. After I trimmed the fat and silver skin from the ribs, I patted on the rub…both sides and the edges. I let it sit at room temperature for an hour while I was outside building a fire and getting it hot. 

Patting on the spice rub.

There are so many techniques for barbecuing ribs on a ceramic smoker I decided what I was going to do and go with it. There are 3-2-1 and 2-2-1 methods for ribs—three hours meat side up, two hours wrapped in foil meat side down, and 1 hour unwrapped with bbq sauce. The 2-2-1 trims off an hour in the beginning. 

Since I’ve had issues overcooking and over-smoking meats, I played it safe. I did a 2-1 1/2-1/2, which worked. I was rolling smoke at a constant 250 degrees; I am getting better at keeping the temperature at bay.

I made a maple bbq sauce that was meh. The recipe I tried sucked, and I won’t make it again. I should have just made a bbq sauce I have in my bag of tricks, but whatever. 🤷🏻‍♀️

The shoestring fries were bomb AF!

We deep-fried some shoestring fries on our outdoor kitchen stove, and I whipped up a watermelon salad. I usually put feta cheese in my watermelon salad along with red onion, lime juice, and honey…until I opened the feta cheese and it was green. Dammit! Ugh.

I improvised and made watermelon, bleu cheese, fresh basil, and a balsamic reduction. It was good but not as good as the feta cheese one. 

The ribs came out ok. The big mistake I made was adding the brown sugar to my rub. It caramelized the rib side that was grill side down for two hours and turned that side black. 

I had to cut the ribs in half from the start since they were too big for the smoker.

When it was time to wrap the ribs in foil, I put some butter and bbq sauce on the foil, then set the ribs on the mixture; meat side down this time. I know I am learning, but fuck, this barbecue/smoking thing is hard to figure out with so many variables. Pitmasters have my utmost respect. 

When we tried the ribs, the meat side was meaty, moist, and delicious. They had a slight tooth pull then came off the bone easily, which is what I wanted. The black side was a complete and utter shitshow. 

The quality of the ribs has a lot to do with the success of pitmasters and professional barbecue joints. Supermarket meats don’t compare and are total crap. I need to up my meat game when I figure the barbecue methods out. I don’t want to waste money on expensive meats until I am sure I won’t ruin them. 

So my St. Louis ribs get a B- not bad for my first try. Just for the record, my scoring is very picky and technical…I am a tough food judge and definitely harder on myself, just like at dance. 

Heatwave…

Marty had a surprise for me last week that was coming from Amazon. His surprises always make me nervous thinking, “What in the world did he get now?” He promised me it was a fun little surprise for my “pool.” Alrighty then!

Burt, our UPS driver, dropped off a box from Amazon that Marty took outside to set up. It was a mister! One that I didn’t have to hold up to cool off. I was pleased he got it for me.

Once Marty set the mister up along with quick connect hose parts, I could easily go from mister to sprayer attachment. He knows me so well that I get frustrated when I have to fool around with stuff like that. Right after he installed it, the weather turned cool. Of course, it did, silly!

Klausie boy wanted to know, “Is it still hot out?” 😂

The last three days, we’ve been having a heatwave here in Vermont, a real one with temps in the mid-90s and down to the mid-70s at night. Oh blue and white striped mister, how I love thee! It’s absolutely perfect for keeping me cool at the pool.

Ah!

My husband scored major brownie points with this little surprise. We have yet to play the darts he surprised me with up a couple of Sundays ago. Maybe we can try it out this weekend when my sister Jennifer and her two kids come up for a quick 4th of July visit. 🇺🇸

A hot & sweaty breakfast…

Steaming hot & spicy miso gf ramen.

This morning I woke up craving a bowl of steaming hot and spicy miso ramen soup. Not your usual Sunday morning breakfast of choice, at least in our part of the world.

When people think of soup, they think about familiar, comforting soups eaten when the weather turns colder or sick. 

Weather and temperature have nothing to do with soup eating; hell, it was already 81 degrees at 9 am when I made my small pot of ramen. 

When I was a kid, older people drank coffee during their lunch, even on the hottest day of the year. My dad and grandmother Mema always drank hot coffee and tea during the hottest part of a summer day. When I asked why they weren’t having iced tea, they told me the hot coffee cooled them off. Huh? 

This old wives tale does have some proven truth to it, under the right circumstances. Lots of studies have been done regarding the hot liquid on a hot day question. The results were mixed by 50%. It again comes down to the right circumstances. 

Eating spicy foods or drinking hot liquids on a hot day triggers a sensor as soon as you take the first bite or sip. The sensor makes you sweat. When you sweat, and it can evaporate, it cools you off afterward. 

My dad and his mother Mema were always on the heavy side, and they were both always hot. When I was a kid, I thought this was why they drank hot liquids. Then I saw skinny older people doing the same thing. The theory of a nine-year-old was wrong. 

So what are the right circumstances? The right clothing is one thing that helps with sweat evaporation. Wearing lightweight, easy to breathe clothing is key. What type of liquid also helps. 

A cup of hot tea will cool you off more than a cup of highly caffeinated coffee. Now I am wondering if my dad and Mema were drinking decaf? Did their savory lunch have any other effects along with drinking the hot coffee or tea?

This may answer my own question…hot, savory soups have a higher sodium content than a cup of tea, which replaces the sodium you sweat out while cooling you down at the same time. Mema and my dad were replacing their sodium and cooling off at the same time. They were smarter than I knew they were, I guess.

Marty still talks about his mother giving them salt pills in the summertime and then sending them out to play for the day. Interesting right?

Here is another piece of the cooling-off puzzle; as soon as hot spicy foods hit your tongue and the top part of your digestive tract, sweating begins. Think of India, Mexico, all of Asia; most of it is hot and spicy. That spicy food is cooling people down after they eat. I never thought about that before I started researching this piece.

Back to soup for breakfast, every country has its own. They eat congee in China, miso soup in Japan, menudo in Mexico, caldo de costilla in Columbia, pho in Vietnam, lablabi in Tunisia, mohinga in Burma, ezogelin cornasi in Turkey and kao tom goong in Thailand are just a few! 

Many of these soups like caldo de costilla have a super high-calorie content; the goal is to fill you up and keep you going all day. When we eat a protein-based breakfast, it will fill you up and keep you going longer than just a carby breakfast. Whenever I eat just toast or a bagel, I want to chew off my own arm. I am so hungry a couple of hours later. 

My soup this morning made me sweat my ass off while I was eating it. It was so steaming hot it fogged up my glasses, plus I added a good amount of sriracha to it. I tried both the temperature and spice level for my research. I also was wearing lightweight clothing. 

About five minutes after I finished my bowl of soup, I completely cooled off. I am sitting on the front porch writing, which felt hot and sticky before I ate the soup; now, it feels cooler. Am I imagining it? I’m not sure since there is a gorgeous breeze blowing, and the sun has shifted a bit. 

The bottom line for me this morning was that I wanted a bowl of ramen, and it tasted so good. Did I prove the old wives’ tale? I have no idea and will have to do more research on the subject. If that means eating more delicious soups for breakfast and spicy foods all summer, I’ll take one for the team! 

Easy breezy…

We were in production all week and out in the production kitchen early every day. Most nights, I didn’t get to sit down to relax until 8 or 9 pm. We even had our state health inspection on Tuesday and passed with flying colors.👍🏼

Last night we had our Friday night farmers market right here in our town of Arlington. It’s a great little market that runs between 4-7 pm. By the time we packed up from the market, unpacked, and repacked for our Saturday market in Troy, it was 9 pm when we ate our dinner. By the time I cleaned up the dishes, thank goodness my dishwasher is fixed; it was 9:40 pm. 

I started to panic and rushing around to get into bed by 10 pm since I had to get up around 4:20 am. Ugh, I hate getting up that early. Just thinking about how little sleep I will get makes me more anxious, and I can’t sleep. Most Saturdays, I’m going on only 3 hours of sleep. 

The great thing about summer is I put my hair up in a bun since we are sampling our spätzle again at the markets. I pick one of my colorful new sundresses and put on a little makeup. I love that I can wear lip gloss again since I’m not wearing a mask. Thank goodness for this easy-breezy living; summer living at its best even at 5 am.

I’ve recently reintroduced earrings into my life. I couldn’t be bothered when they got caught in the mask loops constantly. I forgot where I put a lot of them and keep finding new pairs almost every day. I forgot how much I like wearing earrings! 

I originally wrote a completely different blog post in the van this morning on our way to Troy. I reread what I wrote and thought, “Holy shit, my thoughts were all over the place.” I couldn’t tell where things ended, and other things started. 

I immediately remembered what my friend Jon Katz told me about writing…always think of the reader and ask myself why they should give a shit about what I am writing. I deleted the post from my notes on our way home. That’s what I get for trying to write at 5:30 am after a lousy night’s sleep. 

I did snap this photo at 5:30 am in my new colorful sundress and wearing lip gloss—my first lip gloss selfie in 16 months. I used to be the selfie queen, but I don’t take as many anymore. 

I hope you all have a nice Sunday tomorrow; I plan to relax, I mean really relax. I originally took a big rack of St. Louis ribs out of the freezer to barbeque. We haven’t tried smoking ribs low and slow yet; that may be more work than I want to do on my only day off. If I get a great night’s sleep, then that’s a whole different ballgame. 

My poor petunia…

I jinxed myself for boasting about my monster petunias. The thunderstorm we had the other night left one of my petunias flattened in areas, and it looks droopy. She looks half her size. The other one came out of the storm unscathed.

This petunia is fantastic, funny it was the one that took a long time to come back after the journey home back in May.

I read up, and it’s recommended to leave the petunia be and trust it will come back. I tried fluffing her up, which is exactly what the articles said not to do. Crap!

The soil was very moist, but the leaves look like they need water. I sprayed the petunia with a fine mist this morning. 

So now, besides verbally encouraging Petunia, watering her, and maybe doing a little reiki, I will let her be. Fingers crossed, she rebounds; silly as it sounds, if she doesn’t, I’ll be heartbroken. 💔 

Shish kebabs & kofta…

Photo credit Normandie Kitchen. Professionals making kofta kebabs.

I may be going out on a limb here, but when people hear the word shish kebab, they think of thin skewers with chunks of beef with peppers, onions, and other veggies. Am I right? 

I watch a lot of international cooking and traveling programs on TV. There are so many different series and shows to watch it’s staggering. I love the ones that showcase street food around the world. Some shows focus on the street food vendors and people who work at hawker stands for generations. 

Watching shows about cooking and different cultures inspires me to do research and search for recipes. Next, I decide what I’d like to try making, then hunt down the ingredients I’ll need. Sometimes I need to invest in kitchenware goods.

I made chicken shawarma a couple of months ago and wrote about it on my blog. It was delicious and tasted very close to the shawarma I had in Montreal. 

I wanted to make more Middle Eastern cuisine; this time I was going to make kofta. Kofta is a type of kebab with ground meat instead of chunks. 

The direct translation of shish kebab is “shish,” which means sword, and “kebab,” which means meat. So meat cooked on a sword. How cool! 

As long as there has been fire, people have poked holes in their food with whatever they had and cooked it over an open fire. It’s the most primal way to cook. 

I’ve made regular shish kebabs plenty of times; in fact, I did just a few Saturdays ago. The concept of kofta, forming ground meat on a sword or a one-inch wide skewer, intrigued me. I needed to make them. 

We found the one-inch sword-style kebab skewers on Amazon. I read up on what to do, the next thing I had to decide on was what kind of kofta I was going to make. 

Almost every country and culture have its own versions of kebabs and koftas. I had to pick from Turkish, Persian, Moroccan, Lebanese, Indian, Pakistan. The list goes on and on. 

Next, I had to chose what kind of meat I wanted to use. Ground beef, lamb, chicken, or pork. I picked beef. The herbs and spices used in the different recipes from country to country were similar yet very different. I finally picked a recipe and went with it. 

I knew from my research that the meat should be mixed and chilled for several hours. The meat will adhere to the sword skewer easier if everything, including your hands, is cold. 

The white specs are gluten free panko breadcrumbs, not fat.

I followed the recipe, and we fired up the grill. Marty helped me since it seemed to be a two-person ordeal, especially when we were making kofta.

We didn’t initially lay the skewers on the grill grate because I wasn’t sure if they would stick. However, we found out quickly that the meat almost fell off the skewers with no safety net over the hot coals. Shit!

We put the grill grate on the grill, and it worked like a charm. The aroma was so exotic and smelled delicious. Noah was here for Father’s Day dinner, watching everything take place. 

Between you and me, I think he was unsure of what to expect and was dreading dinner. We decided if it sucked, I would make chicken. 

We kept rotating the kofta to get an even cook on the meat. We didn’t want to have them raw in the center or overcooked and dry. So we went with our gut when to pull them off. 

Earlier in the day, I made a Middle Eastern potato salad which was very lemony. I also made whole roasted Moroccan carrots. I found hundreds of recipes for kofta dipping sauces but made a tahini yogurt one.

Noah didn’t know what to make of the food. I put some meat on his plate and threw caution to the wind. Marty and I tasted the kofta and said, “Wow! What a flavor punch in the mouth.” The kofta was still juicy and really delicious. The sauce I made complimented the meat beautifully. 

The Moroccan carrots were also a home run. I will make this style of carrots from now on. I can already imagine all the different herbs and spices I could use to complement different proteins. Finally, the potato salad was meh. It was ok, but I’d make something different next time, like jeweled rice or gluten-free couscous.

I watched Noah take a nibble. Then a bite. Then he took some sauce and another bite. This was my picky eater as a kid, so this made my heart very happy to see him eat the meal. After we were done eating, Noah said the meal was flavors he never experienced before and liked it. He was happy he got to try something new. Yes! 😃

We had leftover kofta that Sam had the next day before his overnight shift at the hospital, and he liked it too. 

Today I heated the leftover kofta, then thinly sliced it like gyro meat. Then, I made a wrap (gluten-free) with the meat, tahini sauce, thinly sliced baby cucumbers, and lettuce. It was even better than the original meal. 

Marty said after lunch that this was not food you eat at home; it was restaurant or food truck food. That, my friends, is exactly what I was going for! ✔️

The next time I make kofta, I will chill the meat mixture and put the skewers in the freezer for a few minutes to get them super cold. After that, they will go in the fridge until the fire is scorching, and we will use the grill grate right away. 

We live in a food desert here in Southern Vermont with very few choices of ethnic cuisine. I love trying all different kinds of ethnic foods. Like everything else, if we want to try something, I make it—end of story. 

Grilling season is upon us. I don’t really expect anyone to go online and order sword skewers like I did to make kofta. But…you can make kofta patties like a burger and get the same flavor and idea.

If your family is courageous when it comes to food, or if you are sick of eating the same old shit, try it. As a side note, I wanted to include that every time I wanted to type “shish,” my autocorrect changed it to shitshow! LOL!

Below is the recipe I used:

https://www.billyparisi.com/middle-eastern-kofta-kebab-recipe/

Nailing another food memory!

Brushetta topped pizza crust.

We haven’t rented a house for a week down the Jersey Shore for 19 years. We used to rent a home on Long Beach Island, NJ, right in Surf City every July. My parents went in 50% for the rental cost, making it affordable for us since I was a stay-at-home mom. We would all stay at the house and, because my father was still alive, we all got along. They didn’t like the beach, and we did, so we parted our separate ways during the day. At night, we would have cocktails and dinner together. Then we would sit outside for hours after the boys went to bed.

We didn’t rent a place in 2000 since my dad passed away in April and I was pregnant with Sam; I was due in August. We did scrounge money together to rent the house again the following year. I was working for a caterer part-time and put a little money aside every week all year. Our spending money came from our income tax return.

We had a great time at LBI that summer, even though all of our hearts had a hole in them without my father. He did let his presence be known that he was with us anyway. He was so much fun in life, and the signs we got from him made us all laugh.

We never ate out the years we rented the house, the kids were young, and we really didn’t want to spend a ton of money on going out. It would have been aggravating anyway since everywhere was jammed with families; the wait to get into most places was ridiculous. It was more enjoyable eating on one of the house’s decks; the kids could play after they ate and not have to sit still so and we could enjoy our food. Our kids were never allowed to get up from the table in a restaurant or bother a bunch of other diners.

We brought groceries from home mostly for the kids, and we shopped each day at the corner store, butcher shop, bakery (we weren’t gluten-free then), seafood market, and pizza places. I loved to cook back then, and the kitchen was fully equipped, along with a nice grill. 

One morning when Marty and I walked to the bakery searching for the pretzel rolls we loved, we saw they had a bruschetta topped pizza crust. It was different than regular pizza. It was pizza dough baked in Sicilian style and was topped with olive oil, bruschetta topping, and pecorino Romano cheese. It was to be eaten at room temp. It was so good! I think we got it twice that week. I didn’t think I wouldn’t be able to find it anywhere again. It was so juicy and flavorful. 

That was the last year we could afford the house we rented for years. We were priced out by all the New Yorkers that flooded LBI, and the rent tripled in price. We were saving to buy a house and didn’t want to spend that much money; it was the end of going down the shore. Hotels near the beach were even further out of our price range. ☹️

Before we had to go gluten-free, I would look on the menu of every pizzeria to try to find that bruschetta pizza, but I never saw anything like we had from the bakery. I never bothered trying to duplicate the bruschetta pie since gluten-free pizza crust sucks. It took us 9 years to finally master a good pizza dough, so I decided to try tonight. 

I made a batch of pizza dough and rolled out one of the dough balls; I put it immediately on a sheet pan. I let it rise, covered with a towel. Meanwhile, I made the bruschetta topping and garlic herb oil to put on the dough while it baked.

After I made the bruschetta topping, I let it sit for a bit, then tasted it. Boom! It tasted just like the topping I remembered. I was halfway there. When the dough was ready to bake, I poured the garlic, herb, olive oil on the dough, sprinkled a little Parmesan on it, and threw it in the oven. 

When the pizza crust was done, I immediately topped it with the bruschetta topping and grated some pecorino Romano cheese on top. I let it sit for a few minutes so everything could come together. 

I cut it into squares just like the bakery did. Marty tasted it first and said, “You’re gonna love it.” I did love it. We both agreed that it tasted just like the one from the LBI bakery. Marty said he could see us having this a lot, especially when tomatoes are in season.

It was a perfect meal to have on the first day of summer. This bruschetta-topped pizza crust will always remind me of that summer at LBI. We really miss going down the shore for a week and the little house that was just a couple of short blocks from the beach.

I have lots of photos of the little beach house and LBI….I just have to find them.

Responding…

This morning I made a quick coffee cake and ham, egg, and cheese cups for Sunday breakfast. Nothing fancy for Father’s Day, just things Marty likes, namely coffee cake. The egg cups were for me. 

While I was making the coffee cake, I could hear Marty’s phone making notifications sounds. That sound is Facebook messenger…he was wheeling and dealing again on Facebook Marketplace. 

He came into the kitchen right after I put the cake into the oven and announced he made a purchase. No shit, did I call it or what?

I think I asked, “Oh God, what is it? How much did it cost?” That’s my standard question when he buys something. 

“It’s an activity for us.” “Oh no, I don’t like activities and games,” I told him. I hate playing anything with him because we are so competitive. He plays to win, and he’s a sore winner if that makes sense to anyone. 

“What is it?” I couldn’t even imagine what was going to come out of his mouth. “An electronic dartboard from Germany. Never used. It keeps score, and the whole thing is in German.” 

Whew, that wasn’t so bad. It was only $20 bucks. He reminded me that I like to play darts; ok, at a bar while drinking, I never played at home for fun before. 

After we ate breakfast, we quickly got dressed and headed to Dorset, VT, to pick up the dartboard. 

Afterward, we stopped at the Dorset Farmers Market and walked around playing tourists. We got to talk to a few vendors we know and checked out the market. 

On our way home, a rescue tone went out. When Marty heard it, he turned on his lights and sirens and stepped on the gas. When I say lights and sirens, I mean it; his huge truck has a lot of them. 

The crew needed an advanced EMT for the call and it appeared no one else was available.

I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. As we started coming up on cars in front of us, they didn’t pull over right away. It took some cars quite a while before they pulled over. One car actually passed a car that did pull over and sped up….until Marty hit every horn and light on his truck.

What was really scary was when the cars pulled over partially, and we had to go around the car with oncoming traffic headed straight towards us. It made me gasp every time.

That’s how it was the whole way from Manchester to Lake Shaftsbury. I kept my eyes covered, broke out in a sweat, and was a nervous wreck by the time we got to the park. Marty arrived at the scene just 2 minutes behind the crew. 

I drove Marty’s truck home since he was in the ambulance with his patient heading down to the hospital. I came inside and laid down on the couch to literally chill out.

I knew before this ride I would never be a candidate to run on a rescue squad since I can’t even look at an eyelash in someone’s eye. Now I know I’d have agita responding to every call. 

Sam was awake (he works overnights and sleeps during the day) when I got back. I told him about my first rescue squad ride. He said it happens all the time. People don’t move over. People don’t care. I was stunned that it happens all the time. To him, it was the norm, and he’s responded to hundreds of rescue calls. 

If the same people who didn’t pull over right away had a friend or loved one that was hurt, sick, or dying, they would want the ambulance to get there as soon as possible….right? Ugh. 

This bothers me that my son and husband, their rescue partners, and everyone else in EMS risk their own lives to save others, and people can’t pull the fuck over? 

When Marty got home from the call, he and Sam had a big laugh at what a nervous wreck I was. So now I will be nervous whenever they respond to a call…because this is what they experience every time they go on a call. Yikes!

Thank you to all the EMS firefighters and rescue folks out there; stay safe. People need to pay more attention while driving and pull over as quickly and safely as possible. 🙏🏼

Klaus contemplates…

We have doggy doors on both our front and back doors. When we put them in Klaus was an active young dog. Him and Otto would charge through the doors at bullet speed. 

These days Klaus isn’t an active young pup anymore. He is such a sweet and loving boy but has gotten more stubborn and picky as he gets older…and lazy.

After we got home from our farmers market, Marty was sitting on the front porch; Klaus sat there looking out the doggy door, deciding if it was worth the squeeze through the door. 

Lazy boy…Klausie boy.

I wish I had a photo of when he is outside and sticks just his head through the doggy door. He’s taking a peek at what’s going on inside while he’s lying on the back porch. All I can think of when his head pops through the door is, “Does this door make me look fat?” As if he’s trying on a pair of tight jeans. 

He still loves playing ball and going for walks, but when it comes to anything else, he takes his sweet ass time deciding what he’s going to do. Klaus is a bulldog through and through. The one thing that he does do very quickly is shed; a lot. 😆

Sausage & Peppers

I’ve written about food smell memories before, but the one that screams summer down the Jersey shore is sausage and peppers. 

Whenever I smell sausage and peppers, I think of the boardwalk in Seaside, NJ. The delicious smell of sausage, peppers, and onions mixed with Coppertone suntan lotion takes me back. 

I spent many summers down Seaside and walking the boardwalk. My friends and I would go to Seaside, smoke, drink, go to the beach, and walk the boards. It was always good times…fun, sun, and boardwalk food. 

Being gluten-free puts the kobash on eating sausage and peppers on a good Italian roll soaked with grease. Very sad and a major bummer. Like everything else, I make due re-creating delicious food memories. 

I am not sure why people call it “sausage and peppers” when onions are always in the picture. Hell, I do it too. I guess, like all other Jersey & NY lingo, it cuts down on the wordage. 

Cutting down on wordage? Let me give you a few examples. “Ddjaeetyet?” No, “Djew?” Did you eat yet? No, did you? I shit you not, it’s a real thing, and I still say it. 

We all know “Forgetabouit” or “Dontworrybouit.” Forget about it. Don’t worry about it. “Howyadoin?” It can be how are you doing or how are YOU doing? Think of Joey on Friends. 

“Howyadoin?” Is not a question, it is a greeting. No one really gives two shits how you are doing. It’s like saying “S’up” or hi. 

Back to sausage and peppers…in the cold weather, I make mine in the oven. I make mine on the outdoor flat top grill just like the boys do on the boardwalk in the summertime. 

The key to my sausage and peppers is that I marinate my peppers and onions with garlic, olive oil, kosher salt, and pepper. The salt in the marinate starts releasing the juices from the vegetables, softening them a bit before the cook. 

I usually parboiled my sausage. I know some of my Italian friends are shaking their heads, saying, “ Whatdafaq?” I parboil it when I slice the sausage into pieces before putting them in with the vegetables to marinate. This is a hurry-up method, but it works for me.

Parboiling does remove some of the flavor and fat. Sometimes I fry it first, and other times I throw the sausage in the marinate raw. Doing it on the flattop goes fast, and I don’t want to dick around worrying if the sausage would be cooked through. 

Since I can’t have my sausage and peppers on dope ass rolls anymore, I add yellow potato cubes. The same people are shaking their heads and think it’s sacrilege to add potatoes. But I happen to like them, so I put them in. “Oh yeah? Your sista’s ass!” Another favorite of mine.

People can fight about what you put or not put on your sausage and peppers. The purists will say nothing. Others will say yellow or spicy mustard. Some people add marinara sauce. I say no to that one…big time. I like yellow mustard. It’s the needed acid that cuts through all the grease. 

I only learned about how acid balances out a dish a couple of years ago when I watched on Netflix the show called Salt. Fat, Acid. Heat. It changed my life..seriously. Now condiments make sense and actually serve a purpose. 

Last night I made sausage and peppers with garlic cheese bread. The guys could make sub “samiches” if they wanted to; I just ate mine on the side. 

Will I make it to the Jersey shore this year? I’m not sure. Can I eat the sausage and peppers of my food memories? No….damn gluten. Can I make something that is a great runner-up? You bet your ass I can. If there’s a will, there’s a way. 

If there’s a will, there’s a way…look at this flower seedling that has reseeded itself from a planter that hung above it last summer; up on a 6-foot high deck without any dirt or care. I’ve been watching it grow every day. I have to remember to tell everyone to not touch it, I want to see what happens. 🤓