you combined for your joyless little lunch or how earnestly you tell yourself that meat-free soy patties are “better than the real thing.” Ha! Sure—like a punch in the face from a surly political vegan is better than getting tongue-kissed by your own sweet lover!
ANYHOW—TO MAKE my Fancy Sauce, start by chopping onions.
Actually, wait. This is my Fancy Sauce, so start by pouring yourself a glass of red wine. Any red will do. You’re gonna cook with half of it, so don’t spend too much, because it really doesn’t matter. You know Gato Negro—the red wine that used to be packaged with an actual tiny black plastic cat dangling from a string around the neck of each bottle?
I bought a bottle of Gato Negro about six months ago for old times’ sake, and I’m not gonna lie to you: To my thirty-six-year-old palate, it really sucked. I found it excruciatingly tannic, as if every sip actually robbed moisture from my mouth instead of adding to it, like cotton batting stuffed into a wound—and the worst part was, there was no plastic cat! There was just a picture of a black cat on the label!
But my point is simply this: Even Gato Negro will do. It’ll do to drink—and at about $5 a bottle (last time I checked), it won’t break your bank. It cooks up wonderfully well, and despite its undeniably astringent mouth-feel, it’ll get you loosey goosey enough to prepare my Fancy Sauce with a little verve and, dare I say it, panache . Because, and I didn’t mention this earlier, but boy is Fancy Sauce fun to make! And it’s so damn good! And it will get you laid! I’m telling you, you’ll want to have -wine. Which will mean getting at least one decent bottle. Maybe two if you’re showing off by cooking in front of your guest—a move I highly recommend. Everyone likes to feel pampered, and what’s more pampering than cooking a meal for someone? You’ll also appear competent, grownup, and together—like you’re enough of an adult to keep actual ingredients myour kitchen instead of just plastic jugs of bottom-shelf liquor, half-empty jars of rancid cocktail garnishes, and boxes of Girl Scout cookies and Honey Smacks. When I’m looking to get laid, I at least like to pretend an interest in my own nutritional welfare.
Okay, so pour that glass of red wine. Take a sip. If you’re entertaining, make sure your guest’s glass is full (and stays full).
Now, get out your cutting board—wooden or plastic, it doesn’t matter. Chop up one whole onion. While you’re at it, chop up a green pepper or two. Don’t worry about cutting perfect little cubes. If you’re OCD by nature, you really need to harness your urge toward chop overkill, because, honestly, bigger pieces of onion and pepper will cook do’wn and get soft and will ultimately make your Sauce more visually interesting. You don’t want the Fancy Sauce to look like it came from a jar. The whole point is, d doesn’t . So leave chunks.
Okay. Now it’s time to get out your sausage. If you bought loose sausage meat (the kind that looks like ground beef, often sold as “Italian sausage” or “sweet sausage”), just take it out of the fridge and unwrap it. If you bought link sausage (“breakfast” sausage, andouille, hot links, kielbasa—basically anything that’s hot dog—or cigar-shaped and in a casing), slice each link into pieces diagonally so you get little extended disc shapes. Or cut your sausage up however you like. ( I like the extended disc shapes, but then again, I drink $5 red wine, so maybe you have your own idea of what you want and that’s totally okay . . . you big snob!)
Now get out a big skillet. Cast iron is best. But whatever. Make it a big one. You want your ingredients to have plenty of room to move.
Put the skillet on your range, turn the heat up to medium-ish, and let it get hot. (A good test for skillet heat: Take a finger-ful of water and flick it at the pan. If the water hisses and hops around, congratulations! Your skillet
ANYHOW—TO MAKE my Fancy Sauce, start by chopping onions.
Actually, wait. This is my Fancy Sauce, so start by pouring yourself a glass of red wine. Any red will do. You’re gonna cook with half of it, so don’t spend too much, because it really doesn’t matter. You know Gato Negro—the red wine that used to be packaged with an actual tiny black plastic cat dangling from a string around the neck of each bottle?
I bought a bottle of Gato Negro about six months ago for old times’ sake, and I’m not gonna lie to you: To my thirty-six-year-old palate, it really sucked. I found it excruciatingly tannic, as if every sip actually robbed moisture from my mouth instead of adding to it, like cotton batting stuffed into a wound—and the worst part was, there was no plastic cat! There was just a picture of a black cat on the label!
But my point is simply this: Even Gato Negro will do. It’ll do to drink—and at about $5 a bottle (last time I checked), it won’t break your bank. It cooks up wonderfully well, and despite its undeniably astringent mouth-feel, it’ll get you loosey goosey enough to prepare my Fancy Sauce with a little verve and, dare I say it, panache . Because, and I didn’t mention this earlier, but boy is Fancy Sauce fun to make! And it’s so damn good! And it will get you laid! I’m telling you, you’ll want to have -wine. Which will mean getting at least one decent bottle. Maybe two if you’re showing off by cooking in front of your guest—a move I highly recommend. Everyone likes to feel pampered, and what’s more pampering than cooking a meal for someone? You’ll also appear competent, grownup, and together—like you’re enough of an adult to keep actual ingredients myour kitchen instead of just plastic jugs of bottom-shelf liquor, half-empty jars of rancid cocktail garnishes, and boxes of Girl Scout cookies and Honey Smacks. When I’m looking to get laid, I at least like to pretend an interest in my own nutritional welfare.
Okay, so pour that glass of red wine. Take a sip. If you’re entertaining, make sure your guest’s glass is full (and stays full).
Now, get out your cutting board—wooden or plastic, it doesn’t matter. Chop up one whole onion. While you’re at it, chop up a green pepper or two. Don’t worry about cutting perfect little cubes. If you’re OCD by nature, you really need to harness your urge toward chop overkill, because, honestly, bigger pieces of onion and pepper will cook do’wn and get soft and will ultimately make your Sauce more visually interesting. You don’t want the Fancy Sauce to look like it came from a jar. The whole point is, d doesn’t . So leave chunks.
Okay. Now it’s time to get out your sausage. If you bought loose sausage meat (the kind that looks like ground beef, often sold as “Italian sausage” or “sweet sausage”), just take it out of the fridge and unwrap it. If you bought link sausage (“breakfast” sausage, andouille, hot links, kielbasa—basically anything that’s hot dog—or cigar-shaped and in a casing), slice each link into pieces diagonally so you get little extended disc shapes. Or cut your sausage up however you like. ( I like the extended disc shapes, but then again, I drink $5 red wine, so maybe you have your own idea of what you want and that’s totally okay . . . you big snob!)
Now get out a big skillet. Cast iron is best. But whatever. Make it a big one. You want your ingredients to have plenty of room to move.
Put the skillet on your range, turn the heat up to medium-ish, and let it get hot. (A good test for skillet heat: Take a finger-ful of water and flick it at the pan. If the water hisses and hops around, congratulations! Your skillet
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