Sausage and Peppers Done The Ubereater Way

There comes a time in every man's life when he's faced with a decision - that being whether or not venture into the world of conjuring up his very own version of the over-attempted, oft-butchered Sausage and Peppers Sandwich. I'm not talking about the lunch buffet crap you see in Midtown, where rubbery thumb-sized turds, almost fully submerged in a pool of oil, struggle valiantly for surface exposure beneath a canopy of cooked-to-shit onions and peppers that disintegrate to the touch. That's garbage in a pan.

I'm talking about real Sausage and Peppers - done the right way - done the Ubereater way.

In terms of format, I wholeheartedly believe that sausage and peppers belongs on a roll, as a sandwich with a condiment or two, or many. Throughout the years, I've noticed that a good portion of the general public seems to like its Sausage and Peppers as is, sans roll - au naturale if you will. Why? This makes no sense to me. Why does the majority of people I've encountered in culinary circles, fail miserably in seeing the beauty in a perfectly constructed sausage sandwich? There are no truer colors than those of that which a person eats, and people that don't eat sausage sandwiches chill me to the bone, much like people who put ketchup on a hamburger. These are Nancy Pelosi's and the Janet Napolitano's of the culinary world - and they should be avoided at all costs.

It then goes without saying that carefully crafted sausage and peppers should be enjoyed fully jammed into a hollowed-out roll and doused in a series of a crucial condiments (which I'll get to later).

My personal grievances aside, my innate love for Sausage and Peppers usually comes to a head in the dead of summer, when I head south to the Seaside Heights boards (on multiple occasions) to demolish as many of Midway Steak's beautifully crafted version as possible.

As is usually the case, after a long, hot, sweaty summer spent sucking down sausage sandwiches hunched over a garbage can at the Shore, I reluctantly relinquish my infatuation with these babies for another year, thus adjourning another successful summer session by anti-climatically downing 4 or 5 from my favorite stand Lucy's, at the San Gennaro feast in late September.

All that said, this year, I got the itch early, and on the first semi-summer-like day in April, I decided to have my first sausage sandwich of the season.

And now...I'm in love again....

Contrary to how it sounds, I grew up eating my parents' sausage sandwiches almost as often as we got them at the Shore. I was lucky enough to have great parents insofar as they were able to teach me (among other things) the ropes in terms of what a sausage sandwich could, and should really be.

For this I am truly grateful.

I wanted to share my inaugural sausage sandwich for the 2009 season with you below - and talk about what is necessary to make one the right way - the Ubereater way.

First of all, if anyone ever says, "I love sausage, peppers and onions", stop talking to them, turn around, and swiftly walk in the other direction. Why? Because someone unaware that although always included, the "onions" are never overtly mentioned in referring this sandwich undoubtedly hasn't a clue as to what constitutes excellence and what does not. These are most certainly the same people that refer to a plain pie as "cheese pizza".

"We'll have one cheese pizza please." Tell me that doesn't make your blood boil.

That said, the first step is to procure the best quality sausage you can get your hands on. If you're not going to do this, then forget it. All sausage is not the same, and if your sausage and peppers outing starts with a trip to A&P, then why are you even bothering?

Though in the past I've gone with always reliable Faicco's on Bleecker, I've grown quite fond of Pino's on Sullivan St, just south of Houston. At $5.50/lb, this hole-in-the-wall butcher, one of the few remaining gems of the Village neighborhood of yesteryear, serves some of the most affordable high-quality sausage in the city in a much less commercial environment than nearby Faicco's.

Now that the pork side of this equation has been solved, move forward by letting it come to room temperature on the counter. I never, ever put fridge-cold sausage directly on the heat. It doesn't cook properly, and its intestine casing won't crisp properly. Don't do it.

With your sausage coming to room temp, you can turn your focus to the peppers and onions, which should be roughly chopped to 1/4-1/2 inch-wide pieces. I always make it a point to use green bell peppers and white onions, and nothing else. Not Vidalia, not Yellow, not Spanish - just simple white onions. I find they caramelize better, aren't too sweet, and take rather kindly to the floods of the vinegar in which they will ultimately find themselves. I realize many people like to use red bell peppers as well, but I can't help but they have a tendency to bring too much sweetness to the party here and that's not what I'm looking for.

After sweating the peppers and onions out for a good 10-12 minutes on low heat, it is imperative that you begin the "vinegaring" process. Sausage and Peppers does not, and cannot, exist without the liberal use of vinegar. Once semi-soft, I'll braise the concoction in red wine vinegar for another 10 minutes or so, until most of the liquid is absorbed, the onions are opaque, and the peppers are beginning to give up their firmness. After some vigorous mixing, and the obligatory use of salt and pepper, you can take the veggies off the heat and refocus your efforts on that beautiful sausage.

First and foremost, DO NOT butterfly the sausage links and put them face down on the heat. This is the culinary equivalent of wearing socks with TEVA sandals. This behavior is only tolerable just prior to serving, but certainly NOT in the beginning. This will only ensure that your sausage comes off the grill burnt, charred-tasting, and absolutely juiceless.

That said, I like to cook the links to about medium rare, since they will cook from the residual heat after being plated. I know most people will probably disagree with me here in the name of outdated social expectations that rally around the 1950's folklore of trichinosis, and other pork-centric illness crazes of the mid 20th century, but I do believe, that sausage, and all pork for that matter, should be cooked at most until pink in the middle. Too many Americans grew up eating mom's Shake N' Bake pork chops, that tasted as supple and moist as shoe leather. This pains me to no end.

Anyway, once cooked to my liking, I'll dismount the piping hot links into a nice Italian soft roll, with the "meat" of the bread torn out. I am a huge proponent of hollowing out the roll, first because it increases the stuff-capacity of the bread two-fold, and secondly, because without doing this, the soft flesh of the bread will get soggy too quickly.

I will proceed to build my sandwich by starting first with the two pieces of hot sausage, then draping a heavy-handed dose of my vinegar-braised peppers and onions. At this point, I will splash this thing of beauty with more red wine vinegar and hit it with a little bit of black pepper before the ultimate pies de resistance: Tabasco.

The sausage sandwich is not complete without a health dose of my favorite condiment in all of tarnation. (second picture below).



So there it is, Sausage and Peppers Ubereater-style - the right way.

Oh, and don't EVER, EVER put red gravy on your sausage sandwich. EVER. You'll thank me for it.

-The Ubereater