Breakfast Sausage Patties

Two years since Marcus died. This year the anniversary falls on a Tuesday—March third is a Tuesday in 2020—which means I will be at Bernice's Table on the second anniversary of the day that changed everything. I have been thinking about this since December, about what it means to be feeding hungry people on the night that two years ago the world ended, about the rightness of it, about how the table that is named for one person who taught me to feed is where I will be on the night I remember another person who taught me what the feeding is for. Bernice taught me the how. Marcus taught me the why. They are both in the table. On March third I will be at the table. That is exactly right.

January in the cooking class: thirteen students, we have stabilized at thirteen and I think that's the number this kitchen holds for a Saturday class, the number that can move around the prep stations without collision, the number that can each have a turn at the stove, the right number. This week we made biscuits—again, because biscuits teach everything—but with a different lesson than the first time. The first time I taught don't overwork the dough. This time I taught: you will know when it's right because it will feel right. Not by clock, not by measurement—by feel. Your hands will know. Trust your hands. They are smarter than you give them credit for. They have been trained by every hand that trained you. Your grandmother's hands are in your hands. Trust them.

Bernice's Table had forty-seven people Tuesday. Forty-seven. Three people from fifty. I can feel the fifty approaching the way you can feel a season approaching—not here yet but coming, undeniable, pulling toward itself with a force that will not be refused.

The lesson I keep returning to—in the Saturday class, at Bernice’s Table, in the two years since Marcus—is that your hands carry more than you think they do. These breakfast sausage patties are the recipe I give students after the biscuit lesson, because forming a patty is the same instruction: no timer will tell you when it’s right, the pressure of your palms will. I make a batch on the mornings I need to feel useful before the day asks anything of me, and on March third I will make them before I go to the table, because it is right to arrive having already fed yourself from your own two hands.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 22 minutes | Servings: 8 patties

Ingredients

1 lb ground pork (80/20)
1 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp dried sage
1/2 tsp dried thyme
1/4 tsp smoked paprika
1/4 tsp garlic powder
1/8 tsp crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
1 tsp maple syrup (optional, for a touch of sweetness)
1 tsp neutral oil, for the pan

Instructions

Mix the seasoning. Combine salt, pepper, sage, thyme, paprika, garlic powder, and red pepper flakes in a small bowl.
Season the pork. Place ground pork in a large bowl. Sprinkle the seasoning blend over the meat and drizzle with maple syrup if using. Mix gently with your hands just until combined—do not overwork it.
Form the patties. Divide the mixture into 8 equal portions. Press each portion between your palms into a round patty about 3/4 inch thick. Your hands will tell you when the edges are smooth and the thickness feels even. Trust them.
Cook. Heat oil in a cast iron or heavy skillet over medium heat. Add patties in a single layer, working in batches if needed. Cook 5—6 minutes per side until deeply browned and cooked through (internal temperature 160°F).
Rest and serve. Transfer to a plate and let rest 2 minutes before serving alongside biscuits, eggs, or whatever the morning calls for.

Nutrition (per serving)

Breakfast Sausage Patties — What Your Hands Already Know