Sunday Dinner: Grilled Italian Sausage

Sometimes the simplest meals are the best, especially if you can get about two or three strong, complementary flavors together to combine for a dish so good you wish you were eating it again two hours later. There are plenty of combinations that do this well: Pasta and garlic; poultry and tomato; liver and onion; pork and apples; beef and mushrooms.

Generally speaking, though, the word “sausage” does not leap to mind most times. This is because it’s a popular euphemism, and striding into work in the morning exclaiming things like:

  • “I had the best sausage last night!”
  • “You should have seen the sausage in my kitchen yesterday!”
  • “I enjoy eating sausage!”
  • or “Cheap jokes are often achieved using the word ’sausage’!”

…discourage even the hardiest souls.

More importantly, there’s an image in most people’s minds that sausage is represented by either the tiny, horrid, gristle-loaded tubes that come with your eggs, or else the thing at the hot dog cart that costs a dollar more and takes way longer to cook. But, when made with the proper respect and garnished properly, they can make a savory dinner.

First thing’s first, though: Sausages are pork. You can get turkey sausage and other stuff, but if you’re going for Oktoberfest, hot Italian-style or really anything traditional, you’re looking at ground-up pig. That means two things: That I am immediately marginalizing the Muslim and Jewish elements of my audience today, and that the rest of you had better make sure you cook these things properly. So, do not think that you can just take them out of the wrapper and throw them on the grill, unless you’re willing to wait for a long time or you’re keen on a pet tapeworm.

That said, “proper cooking” does not have to translate to “grilling until meat transmutes to hardened clay.” A simple, easy step can be introduced that will thoroughly cook, flavor and even plump up the sausages before you grill them: Boiling.

Yeah, I know. Boiled sausages look like a vampire’s colon, all pale and grody and jiggly. It doesn’t have to be that way, though, if you do more than simply stick them in a pot full of water. Oktoberfest sausages boil really well with beer, and even better with the old skunky beer that you’d rather not have to drink; honey garlic sausages benefit really well from whatever fresh herbs you throw in the water, particularly the strong ones like fennel.

Again, boiling anything isn’t quick, but the results are well worth it: The pork is flavored and safe, you get a little prep time for whatever garnishes you want to get together, and your kitchen ends up smelling fantastic. If for some reason you’re actually hosting people (meaning that you are way ahead of me and god damn your good fortune), you cannot underestimate the value of an aromatic kitchen — smell alone is enough for people to declare your permanent supremacy as a cook.

Overcooking is a bit of a hazard, so I turned to my Bible, The New Best Recipe, to find out the proper approach… and was stunned to find that they had no information whatsoever for me. I should have known that the Better Homes & Gardens cookbook would come through for me instead:

  1. In a deep skillet, fill 2 inches of water and bring to a boil. Add sausage and reduce heat. Cover and simmer for 10 minutes.
  2. For smaller sausage, drain water and brown the meat for 2-5 minutes, turning often.
  3. For 3/4 inch or larger, transfer to grill and brown over medium heat for 7-10 minutes or until juices run clear, turning as necessary.

Yesterday’s meal was garnished with three items: Grated parmesano reggiano, chopped Vidalia onions, and sweet yellow mustard. I picked up a couple of fresh submarine rolls on the way home, which were worlds better than the mass market sausage buns I find at the supermarket. The freshly-grated cheese added a strong flavor to match the hot sausage, while the onions and mustard added some sweetness to balance out the dairy-porky funkiness.

One important note: If you put ketchup on your sausage, you’re some kind of Communist. You can say all you like about lycopene and tomato and sweetness and whatever, it’s just that… well, you’re clearly a Soviet. Ketchup on a sausage simply isn’t done, everyone knows that, and the only people who wouldn’t are foreign agents from a nefarious alien power, clearly untrained in the finer delicacies of civilization.

So, don’t be afraid to do something simple, and do it right. Done badly, and you’ll reveal yourself as a Communist; but done properly, you end up with a tasty meal that you’ll miss when it’s over.