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Sunday Gravy — The Dish That Makes Every Carter Show Up to the Table

Found a three-bedroom apartment in our neighborhood. Same complex, different building. The rent is two hundred more per month, which hurts but is survivable with overtime. I talked to the property manager and she said we can move June 1, which gives us a month to pack and transfer and arrange the furniture and figure out how to fit a crib, a toddler bed, two adults, and an unreasonable amount of baby equipment into a space that is larger than what we have but still not large enough for what we are becoming. Brianna was relieved about the apartment. Not just about the space — about not having to move into Gloria's basement. She said, "I love my mama but I cannot live with her," which is the most self-aware thing Brianna has said in months and which I agreed with so enthusiastically that she laughed. Agreement is a form of intimacy. We should try it more often. Aiden is talking in full sentences now. Short sentences, but sentences: "I want juice." "Where is Dada?" "No, Mama, I do it." The last one is his favorite — he wants to do everything himself, from putting on his shoes (wrong feet, always) to climbing into his car seat (takes four minutes, could be done in ten seconds with help, but independence is non-negotiable). He is two and already has the Carter stubbornness, which will serve him well in life and drive me insane in the meantime. I played pickup basketball Wednesday and had my best game in months. Sixteen points, seven assists, the kind of fluid, unthinking performance that happens when your body remembers what it was made for and your mind gets out of the way. For forty minutes, I was not a factory worker or a husband or a father-to-be-again. I was a basketball player. Just a basketball player. The knee held. The jumper fell. The court was mine. And then it was over, and I drove home, and I was all those other things again, and the forty minutes on the court became a memory that I would carry into the next week like a warm stone in my pocket. Sunday dinner was liver and onions, which Mama makes because Dad loves it and which the rest of us tolerate because we love Dad. Liver is an acquired taste that I have not acquired in twenty-seven years and may never acquire. But Mama's version — calf liver soaked in milk to remove the bitterness, dredged in seasoned flour, pan-fried in butter with caramelized onions and a brown gravy — is as good as liver can be, which is to say it is edible if you do not think about what you are eating. Dad ate three pieces. I ate one and filled up on mashed potatoes and cornbread, which is the strategy of every Carter child when liver is on the menu.

Mama’s liver and onions will never be my dish—twenty-seven years in and I’ve accepted that—but what I did take from those Sunday dinners is the ritual itself: something slow-cooked, something that fills the whole apartment, something that tells everyone who walks through the door that the week is done and we’re here now. With a move coming on June 1 and a new baby on the way and Aiden already staking out his independence one wrong-footed shoe at a time, I wanted a Sunday recipe I could own, something I could put on the stove while the kids ran around and the smell alone would be enough. This Sunday Gravy is it—three hours of low-and-slow that makes the whole place feel like home, whatever size home that happens to be.

Sunday Gravy

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 3 hours | Total Time: 3 hours 25 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 3 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1 lb sweet Italian sausage links
  • 1 lb hot Italian sausage links
  • 1 1/2 lbs bone-in pork ribs (country-style or baby back)
  • 1 large yellow onion, finely diced
  • 6 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1/2 cup dry red wine
  • 2 cans (28 oz each) crushed San Marzano tomatoes
  • 1 can (6 oz) tomato paste
  • 1 teaspoon dried oregano
  • 1 teaspoon dried basil (or 6 fresh basil leaves, torn)
  • 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 lb rigatoni or spaghetti, for serving
  • Freshly grated Pecorino Romano, for serving

Instructions

  1. Brown the meats. Heat olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Working in batches, brown the sausage links and pork ribs on all sides, about 3–4 minutes per side. Transfer browned meat to a plate and set aside. Do not crowd the pot—good browning builds the flavor base.
  2. Soften the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium. Add the diced onion to the same pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 6 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more, until fragrant.
  3. Build the base. Add the tomato paste and stir it into the onions. Cook for 2 minutes, letting it caramelize slightly against the bottom of the pot. Pour in the red wine and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom. Let it simmer until the wine reduces by half, about 3 minutes.
  4. Add the tomatoes and season. Pour in both cans of crushed tomatoes. Add oregano, basil, red pepper flakes, sugar, salt, and black pepper. Stir to combine.
  5. Return the meat and simmer low. Nestle the browned sausages and pork ribs back into the sauce. Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to the lowest setting. Cover partially with a lid, leaving a small gap for steam to escape. Simmer for 2 1/2 to 3 hours, stirring every 30 minutes, until the pork is falling off the bone and the sauce has deepened in color and flavor.
  6. Pull the meat. Remove the pork ribs and sausage links. Pull the pork off the bones and shred or slice it into the sauce. Slice the sausages into rounds and stir everything back in. Discard any bones. Taste the sauce and adjust salt as needed.
  7. Cook the pasta and serve. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Drain, reserving 1/2 cup of pasta water. Toss pasta with a ladleful of gravy, adding a splash of pasta water to loosen if needed. Serve topped generously with more gravy, a piece of sausage, and shredded pork. Finish with grated Pecorino Romano.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 620 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 28g | Carbs: 55g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 890mg

DeShawn Carter
About the cook who shared this
DeShawn Carter
Week 57 of DeShawn’s 30-year story · Detroit, Michigan
DeShawn is a thirty-six-year-old single dad, auto plant worker, and a man who didn't learn to cook until his wife left and his five-year-old asked, "Daddy, can you cook something?" He called his mama, who came over with two bags of groceries and spent six months teaching him the basics. Now he's the dad at the cookout who brings the ribs, the guy at the plant whose leftover gumbo starts fights, and living proof that it's never too late to learn.

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