illdothedisheslater

(Due to diligent procrastination on my part, I have been writing this post for three weeks.  Despite being house-bound for three straight days in ten inches of snow, I managed to type not a single paragraph.  I gave myself an ultimatum yesterday – no cooking until I finish this.  AND I bought ten pounds of chicken from the good butcher shop, so the clock is ticking.)

I wrote once about being able to read a recipe and just knowing that it’s not going to work out – it may be poorly written, the instructions may be unclear, or the ratio of ingredients just doesn’t sound right.  But this damn soup – I mean…  It breaks all the rules.  As a lazy garbage person, I’m very interested in one-pot meals, dump dinners, etc., but so far most of those recipes are just okay at best.  So when I badgered a kind lady at a baby shower for this recipe, I couldn’t quite believe it but I thought I’d give it a try.

My BFF and I used to intentionally try on terrible clothes to make each other laugh. Particularly, we both look ridiculous in strapless things – something about shoulders I guess.  I’m built like a football player.   A big one.  There was one notable occasion, in the junior’s department at Macy’s (yes, I’m too old for the junior’s department, thank you).  I was trying on a dress – if memory serves, it was a purple sequined tank dress with a lion on the front – the most hilarious thing I could find.  I put it on, we laughed, then she went back to her dressing room.  I pulled it off over my head and, yep, it got stuck.  Inside out.  Like really, really stuck.  It wouldn’t go up or down.  I had to call for help – BFF had to crawl under the door to rescue me and pull the dress over my head, while my arms flailed around uselessly, undies on prominent display.  Also, I’m at least six inches taller than BFF, so I had to get down on my knees to accomplish this.   The sequins scraped the hell out of my arms, back, and neck.

So I thought this recipe would be the culinary equivalent of the purple sequined lion dress.

(Recipe slightly adapted from Best of the Best of the Midwest Cookbook.  There was a whole rigmarole about where the recipe came from.  The kind baby shower hostess couldn’t remember the name of the book, and after 57 e-mails asking for tips and answers, I decided not to bother her anymore.  I found this book online, and it’s the same recipe.  My book credits it to The Kettle Cookbook.)

1 lb. Hot Italian Sausage
1 Small Yellow Onion, diced
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 zucchini, diced
½ cups carrots, diced
1 green pepper, diced (omitted from my dish, because green peppers ruin everything)
1 28-oz can whole tomatoes, squooshed
3 cans of chicken broth
1 cup white wine (recipe calls for cooking wine, but – gross.)
1 cup orzo (uncooked).
1 teaspoon basil
½ teaspoon oregano
Salt
Black pepper
Parmesan cheese (I actually like the not-great stuff for this, as it melts better).

Nothing about this makes sense!   You brown the sausage in a large pot – sure.  Normal first step.  (Pictures will show two pots.  I made a double batch, and used Turkey Sausage in one for my sainted brother, who will not eat delicious pork or beef.  Turkey Sausage is an abomination in the eyes of God and man (this lady anyway), and will not be tolerated generally.  I do like to be a good hostess though.  If you want to use this odd, cardboard-tasting nonsense it’s up to you, but the results will not be the same.) (Turkey Sausage is on the left, looking fairly disgusting.)

Then you just… Add the vegetables, onion, and garlic – all at the same time! Saute gently for a few minutes.

Then you just… Add everything else (except the pasta and cheese.)

Then you just… Bring it to a boil, add the orzo, turn down the heat, and let it simmer for 20 minutes (or more) until the pasta is cooked.  Sprinkle with cheese.

Then it’s just… Done.  And it’s amazing.  The sausage flavors everything, the vegetables are firm and fresh, the orzo gives it body.  The broth is thick with tomatoes and gentle heat from the sausage.  Little clumps of melty cheese swim in every bite.  The more you cook it, the better it gets.  It freezes well (sans cheese, of course).  It doubles easily.  Getting too thick?  Just add more broth – it won’t water down the flavor somehow.  I don’t understand it at all.

That’s it.  I mean…  It’s just not right.  In no other recipe would you boil cooked meat with onions and pasta.  This makes zero sense, but I’m not going to argue with results.  I took some over to my mother, who demanded the recipe and has made it something like nine times in the past two months.

This might be some sort of witchcraft, but with all the boil, there’s relatively little toil, and it’s really no trouble at all.