Smoked Sausage Dinner

All Saints' Day. The cemetery in the morning, crisp and bright, the sky doing the thing it does in November when everything above goes very blue against the white tombs. The Robinson family gathered at nine — MawMaw with her basket, Daddy's cousins from Prairieville, Uncle Darnell and Aunt Vera, and my cousin Kezia who is now fifteen and pays attention to things in the way I once began to pay attention to things and it is beautiful to witness.

We cleaned Grandpa Elijah's tomb with brushes and gentle water, renewed the flowers, stood in the particular quiet of the cemetery where you are allowed to talk and allowed to be silent and both things are understood. MawMaw stood at his tomb for a long time. She didn't say anything and none of us said anything and the silence was full rather than empty. Kezia stood next to me and whispered, "Do you know all the names on the other tombs?" and I said yes and I told them to her one by one and she repeated them the way I once repeated them to MawMaw's instruction. That is how something survives — it passes through the voices of the people who choose to carry it.

MawMaw opened the basket afterward and we sat on the cemetery bench and ate her crackers with fig preserves and the muscadine grapes, the cluster of them sweet and slightly tart, the skin thick enough to need biting. The fig preserves she'd put up herself in August when her fig tree fruited. They tasted like summer stored in glass, which is exactly what they are. Eating them in November in a cemetery with my family and the November light overhead — there is no recipe for that. There is only the being present to it.

We drove home and Mama had gumbo waiting, as she always has gumbo waiting on All Saints' Day, and we ate together and the table was loud and alive and Grandpa Elijah was everywhere in it.

Mama’s gumbo is its own sacred thing — I won’t pretend I can put it here — but what I can offer is the spirit of it: smoked sausage, something warm in a pot, the kind of meal that says you are home now and you are fed. This smoked sausage dinner has become my own weeknight version of that All Saints’ Day table, the one where Grandpa Elijah was everywhere even in his absence, present in every bowl we passed and every story we told. When the cemetery morning is over and the November light has done its work on you, this is the kind of supper that brings everyone back to the present tense.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb smoked sausage (andouille or kielbasa), sliced into 1/2-inch rounds
1 lb baby potatoes, halved
2 cups frozen green beans
1 medium onion, sliced
1 bell pepper, sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
1/4 cup chicken broth

Instructions

Parboil the potatoes. Place halved baby potatoes in a pot of salted water and bring to a boil. Cook 8–10 minutes until just fork-tender but not falling apart. Drain and set aside.
Brown the sausage. Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large skillet or cast-iron pan over medium-high heat. Add sausage slices in a single layer and cook 3–4 minutes per side until nicely browned. Remove from pan and set aside.
Sauté the vegetables. Add the remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the same pan. Add onion and bell pepper and cook over medium heat for 4–5 minutes until softened. Add the minced garlic and cook 1 minute more.
Season and combine. Add the parboiled potatoes to the pan and sprinkle everything with smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, and black pepper. Stir to coat evenly.
Add green beans and broth. Stir in the frozen green beans and pour in the chicken broth. Return the browned sausage to the pan. Stir everything together.
Simmer and finish. Cover and cook on medium-low heat for 8–10 minutes, until green beans are tender and the broth has mostly absorbed, stirring once halfway through. Taste and adjust seasoning before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Smoked Sausage Dinner — The Warmth Waiting at Home After the Cemetery