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Peasant Skillet — August Harvest and the Cooking That Holds Us Together

August without the family: the farm work and the cooking, the long days and the heavy production. I've been in harvest mode all week — beans blanched and frozen, cucumbers pickled, the dehydrator running with cherry tomatoes, the sauce project continuing. The chest freezer in the barn is full in a way that satisfies me the way no other kind of fullness does. You fill it with things you grew and preserved and it holds what the summer was for the months that follow.

Made corn chowder this week, which is August's specific soup. The corn at its peak milk — the sugars at their maximum sweetness before they start converting to starch — with cream and bacon and the vegetables that make it what it is. Helen's recipe, same as always. I made a double batch and froze half. By December the frozen batch will taste like this week. Time travel by cooking.

Bill called from Maine. His garden has been spectacular this year, he said — more tomatoes than he knew what to do with. He made his first tomato sauce last weekend. He described the process with the focused pleasure of someone doing a thing for the first time that they've been hearing described for two years. He said: I finally understand why you talk about the food mill the way you do. I said: yes. He said: it's the sound of it. I said: and the smell. He said: and the smell.

I wrote a new blog post this week: about Bill, about the two-year correspondence, about meeting him last month at the farm. About what it means to find community through writing about food. About the fact that making a roast chicken for one does not have to be the end of something. It can be the beginning of something else entirely.

The corn chowder is Helen’s recipe and it stays hers. But this — the peasant skillet — is what I make on the nights when the kitchen counter is covered in whatever the garden gave that day and I need something fast and grounding before I go back out to the barn. It uses what’s there. It doesn’t ask for more than you’ve got. That feels right for August, when you’re already giving everything to the harvest.

Peasant Skillet

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 pound bulk Italian sausage
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 4 medium potatoes, peeled and cubed
  • 1 large onion, chopped
  • 1 medium green bell pepper, chopped
  • 1 medium red bell pepper, chopped
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 can (14-1/2 ounces) diced tomatoes, undrained
  • 1 teaspoon dried basil
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
  • 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped

Instructions

  1. Brown the sausage. In a large oven-safe skillet, cook Italian sausage over medium-high heat until no longer pink, breaking it into crumbles as it cooks. Remove and drain on paper towels. Wipe skillet clean.
  2. Cook the potatoes. Heat olive oil in the same skillet over medium heat. Add cubed potatoes and cook, stirring occasionally, for 10 to 12 minutes until they begin to turn golden and are just tender.
  3. Add the vegetables. Stir in the onion, green and red bell peppers, and garlic. Cook for 4 to 5 minutes until the vegetables soften.
  4. Combine and season. Return the sausage to the skillet. Add the diced tomatoes with their juices, basil, oregano, salt, and pepper. Stir everything together and let simmer for 5 minutes until heated through and the flavors meld.
  5. Finish with cheese. Sprinkle mozzarella over the top of the skillet. Cover and cook on low for 2 to 3 minutes until the cheese melts. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve directly from the skillet.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 19g | Fat: 24g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 780mg

Walter Bergstrom
About the cook who shared this
Walter Bergstrom
Week 333 of Walter’s 30-year story · Burlington, Vermont
Walt is a seventy-three-year-old retired high school history teacher from Burlington, Vermont — a Vietnam veteran, a widower, and a grandfather of five who cooks New England comfort food in the same kitchen where his wife Margaret made bread every Saturday for forty years. He lost Margaret to a stroke in 2021, and now he bakes her bread himself, not because he's good at it but because the smell fills the house and for an hour she's still there.

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