Italian Sausage Cacciatore

The week the protests came to Baton Rouge. The city was already familiar with this pain — Alton Sterling had been killed here in 2016, and the city had gone through its version of this reckoning before. But this felt different in scale and scope: the whole country moving at once, city after city, something that had been held at a particular pressure for too long finally reaching the point where the container couldn't hold it.

I went to a march on Wednesday with Destiny and Tanya and Marcus, all of us masked, carrying signs. The streets were full in a way I had never seen Baton Rouge streets full. People of every age and background, the sun hot overhead, the chanting rhythmic and continuous. I am not someone who cries easily in public. I cried twice. The first time at a grandmother in a fold-up chair on the sidewalk holding a sign that said "not again." The second time when the chanting swelled around us and I felt the particular physics of a crowd that is speaking with one voice — the way the sound moves through you, not just at you.

Daddy had told us to be safe. Mama had told us to be safe. We were safe. We were present. I think those things are both possible.

I came home and cooked in the evening, because I needed to do something with my hands after hours of grief in motion. I made a simple pot of white beans and sausage — clean, clear, sustaining. I thought about the history I had been reading: the people who came before, who had also stood in streets and asked for what should have been undeniable. The food on the stove while I thought about this was the food they had also made. The kitchen connects to everything. I have always known this. Some weeks it is more present than others.

I didn’t set out to make cacciatore — I set out to use my hands, to move through the kitchen the way I had moved through the streets that afternoon, with purpose and with feeling. The sausage was already in the refrigerator, and the tomatoes and peppers and garlic came together the way they always do when you’re not overthinking it, when the point is not the food exactly but the act of making it. This is the recipe I ended up with: Italian Sausage Cacciatore, rough and satisfying and deeply itself, the kind of thing that has been feeding people through hard days for longer than any of us have been alive.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 5

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs Italian sausage (sweet or hot), sliced into 1-inch rounds
1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
1 large green bell pepper, sliced
1 large red bell pepper, sliced
1 medium yellow onion, sliced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth
1/4 cup dry red wine (optional)
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp dried basil
1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
1 tbsp olive oil
Salt and black pepper to taste
Fresh parsley, chopped, for serving
Crusty bread or cooked pasta, for serving

Instructions

Brown the sausage. Heat olive oil in a large heavy skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the sausage slices and cook, turning occasionally, until browned on both sides, about 6–8 minutes. Transfer to a plate and set aside. Do not drain all the fat — leave about 1 tbsp in the pan.
Sauté the vegetables. Reduce heat to medium. Add the onion and bell peppers to the pan and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 6 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more, until fragrant.
Deglaze and build the sauce. Pour in the red wine (if using) and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Let it reduce for 1 minute. Add the crushed tomatoes and chicken broth, then stir in the oregano, basil, and red pepper flakes. Season with salt and black pepper.
Simmer together. Return the browned sausage to the pan, nestling the pieces into the sauce. Bring to a gentle simmer, then reduce heat to low, cover partially, and cook for 25–30 minutes, until the sauce has thickened and the sausage is cooked through.
Finish and serve. Taste and adjust seasoning. Scatter fresh parsley over the top. Serve with crusty bread for dipping or spoon over pasta.

Nutrition (per serving)

Italian Sausage Cacciatore — The Kitchen Connects to Everything