Another Use for Salsiccia

There's a distant, elderly section of my family by the surname Zechinsky. One of these was my longtime sitter's mother, a lady I used to call Grandma Zechinsky. Grandma Zechinsky was a hard-boiled lady. I recall her stern demonstration to me of what looked like a ping-pong paddle with large holes drilled through it. Motivated probably by my propensity to steal M&Ms from the tiny glass vessel in her sewing room, she demonstrated how the holes allowed the paddle to quickly move through the air, advising this would result in a much more devastating blow if a spanking were ever needed.

Grandma Zechinsky was no stale woman.

Despite this improved punishing implement, she couldn't move too quickly, so I didn't much have to worry about the power of her swing.

Her house usually smelled, I thought, like a German cottage. I was, of course, young enough to think the diets of everyone living in Germany consisted of boiled sausages, sauerkraut and stinky beer. Thankfully, her house didn't smell of beer; if there had been beer around, its scent was overhelmed by sausages.

Around this time I was introduced to a spicy italian sausage called sazitza -- brought to you by the same Italian-Americans who eat mooza-dell, gaba-gool and rigot pie -- and this, incidentally, was a popular ingredient in Grandma Zechinsky's kitchen. This spicy sausage, I learned, was part of the vibrant house-smell with which I was so familiar. Consequently, on many unhealthy occasions, I asked for this when visiting Grandma Zechinsky. She indulged me. Every time. Peppery pieces of sazitza soaked in a thick, sweet tomato sauce elevated my palatte. Now that I'd discovered the stuff grown-ups were hiding from me, my childhood would no longer be filled with bland hot dogs.

I ate the stuff there often enough that I came to ask for it in other places long after my visits to her house ended.

"Mom, may we have zechinskis with our spaghetti tonight?"

"Are there any zechinskis at the deli?"

Oops. Nobody knew what I was talking about; I certainly didn't want to eat my family members.

When I was old enough to correct myself and request sazitzas, still nobody knew what I was talking about, and only in high school did I begin paying attention to the meat packaging at the grocer that read salsiccia, which sounded remarkably similar to the object of my years-long search. Eventually, I tried salsiccia.

Like a wartime bride seeing her husband home from battle, my tongue ignited. My mouth lit up like a pinball machine. At last, I was home.

I don't expect you to cultivate the same affair with sausage as I, but I'll not hesitate to offer the following suggestion, which is a ubiquitous recipe that usually calls for sweet sausage. Bathing the spicy meat in the sweet tomato cream sauce might easily make this substantial dish become a favorite comfort food for any of its first-timers. I apologize for not including a photo with this recipe, but be prepared for a sight: the sauce, you might guess from reading it, will be pink.

Penne With Sausage and Tomatoes

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon butter
1tablespoon olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
3 garlic cloves, minced
1lb salsiccia, casings removed
2/3 cup chardonnay
1 14.5oz can diced, peeled tomatoes with juice
1 cup heavy whipping cream
6 tablespoons parsley
1/2 cup freshly grated parmesean
I box penne pasta

Method:

1. In large saucepan, heat oil and melt butter over medium high heat. Add onion and cook until it begins to caramelize. Add garlic, cook two minutes, stirring frequently.

2. Add sausage. Break apart into chunks with spoon and cook thoroughly. When sausage is cooked through, drain half of liquid from pan. Add wine, return to boil, then reduce heat to medium and simmer for 10 minutes.

3. In another large pot, empty penne into generously salted boiling water, cook until tender.

4. Add tomatoes to sauce mixture, return to boil then reduce heat to medium and simmer 10 minutes. Add cream. Simmer until liquid thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon, then reduce heat to low. Spoon sauce over penne and top with grated parmesean cheese.