Finding Fennel, Finding Home

"Oh my gad! Oh my gad!"
From ten feet away I could hear the familiar nasal tones of a native Chicagoan and it brought me back. Well, to be more exact, the nearly mulleted, high-browed, eyeshadowed Midwesterner brought my own nasal tones back for a bit, at least. Like déjà vu the accent just kicked in as if there was a plump, nearly purple Traverse City bing cherry pressed up against the back of my nasal passage. All I could do was chime in, “Oh my gad.” And yes, a smile and not a smirkcame from the woman. We in the Midwest know the art of self-deprecation. Oooeee, shure we do!
This leads me to sausage. There's sausage and then there's my grandfather's sausage. There's the delicate use of spice and then there's the bold use of fennel. I prefer fennel seeds in my sausage. Not that overwhelming abundance that can repulse. Nah, a refreshing handful to just lend some texture and earthiness to the pork. And my granfather’s sausage was amazing with a slightly loose grind, a sweet pork flavor (even in his hotter sausage) and a nutty note of fennel along with just the right salt and pepper. But every time he got applause for his sausage, he brushed it off. Even though he was from the old country, he adopted that Michigan self-deprecation.
It’s hard to find and it’s hard to forget.
As happens many times, when people die, so do their recipes.
So my dead grandfather took his sausage recipe with him. So there I am on a Saturday at an Italian deli in Windsor Terrace picking up subpar sausage minus fennel. But then I picked up some amazing, fluffy light freshly made cheese ravioli and truffle oil, still an obsession.
So my Saturday night, pre—Oh My Gad! dinner—consisted of subpar sausage, cheese ravioli and mushrooms in truffle oil.
A bit too hearty to be light on your feet and talking smack with a nasal-toned, highlighted, high-waisted nurse from Skokie, but you can’t always have what you want. But you can try to get close to it.
Next up--homemade sausage experimenting.

Comments

[Jane]

ah my old neighborhood butcher! which, i must say, was never as good as i thought it should have been. the lasagna was pretty good but their meat was always pretty disappointing.