Pasta with Sausage and a Creamy Butternut Squash and Sage Sauce

For a while now, I had been wanting to make a fall-ish pasta dish, and this is what I came up with. Because the sauce is a bechamel with some squash puree mixed in, the squash flavor is on the light side, but the sauce is also lighter on fat and calories than it would be if it was made of squash and heavy cream. I'm not claiming that this dish is low-fat, though--there's a good bit of butter, and of course there's the fat from the sausage. But fat is flavor, right? Plus, you get all of the nutrients from the squash, like fiber and beta carotene, so this might be a good way to get some veggies into vegetable-phobic kids.

Sage can overpower a dish, and it can therefore be a little bit intimidating to cook with. But in this case, with the sage added at the beginning of the cooking process, it's present without fighting too much with the other ingredients. 

Fried sage leaves would make a lovely garnish, and they're apparently delicious, so I've included Thomas Keller's instructions for making them. You may notice, though, that I have fresh sage leaves as a garnish on my poorly-plated dish. That's because I was too lazy to use a thermometer for frying, and for some reason, I expected the oil to bubble. 

When it started to smoke profusely and smell like burning plastic, I figured something wasn't quite right, so I turned off the heat. As for why I then threw in some sage leaves anyway, I have no good explanation. But it was pretty amusing how they instantly went 'Poof!' (they really did make that sound) and turned black. I made this a couple days ago now, and the kitchen still smells bad. Otherwise, the dish was a success. 

Pasta with Sausage and a Creamy Butternut Squash and Sage Sauce

Serves 4-6

• 2 medium-sized butternut squash
• Canola oil
• Kosher salt
• 1 recipe fresh pasta dough (below), or 1 pound dried fettuccine
• 5tablespoons butter
• 1 cup finely diced shallots
• 8 sage leaves, finely diced
• 1/4 cup flour
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
• 1 3/4 cup whole milk
• 1/2 cup chicken stock
• 3 tablespoons Sherry or Marsala
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• One link hot Italian sausage per person
• Optional: Fried sage leaves (below)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Cut the butternut squash in half and remove the seeds. Place on a foil-lined baking sheet and smear a little bit of oil over the halves, which should be cut-side up. Sprinkle liberally with Kosher salt. Roast in the center of the oven until the squash is very tender and a little bit browned, about an hour.

While the squash roasts, prepare the pasta dough as instructed below. When the squash is ready, remove it from the oven and allow it to cool.

In the meantime, cook the shallots and sage in 3 tablespoons butter until the shallots are tender, about 7 minutes. Add the flour and cook 3 minutes. Add the nutmeg and pour in the milk and chicken stock. Over medium heat, continue to stir until the sauce is thickened and coats the back of a spoon. This takes a while, as you must be patient in order to not curdle or burn the sauce. Taste for seasoning along the way-this sauce requires a good bit of salt.

When the sauce is thickened, stir in the Sherry. Scoop the flesh out of the squash skins, and puree in a blender of food processor until very smooth. Stir the puree into the milk sauce (bechamel). Add freshly ground black pepper, taste for seasoning, and add more salt and pepper as necessary.

In a large skillet, melt a tablespoon butter over medium-high heat and add the sausage. Sear for a minute, and place a lid over the skillet. Turn the heat down to medium. Occasionally shift the sausages in the pan. After about about 4 minutes, flip the sausage, put the lid back on the pan and cook for about 4 minutes. Remove the lid and cook for another 3 minutes. Add another tablespoon butter, and continue to cook until the sausage is cooked through. They could be done at this point, or they could need a few more minutes.

While the sausage cooks, roll out the pasta and set a large pot of salted water on to boil. To roll out the pasta, divide it into 4 pieces. Make each piece into a flattish shape. Take one to start with, and cover the other so that they don't dry out.

With your plain roller set to the largest setting (lowest number), pass the dough through once. Fold like a book (one flat piece in the back, and two pieces folded over on the sides so that they almost meet in the middle) and pass through again. Fold like a book and repeat 2 more times. After the last time, send the pasta through as is. Send it through as a flat piece 2 more times.

Then, put the roller on the next smallest setting and pass the dough through. Continue to do this on smaller and smaller settings until the pasta is the right thickness (about a 6 on Kitchenaid stand mixers, depending on how flat you'd like the pasta). Lay the dough out on a flat surface and cover with a towel so that it does not dry out, and repeat with the remaining lumps of dough.

When all of the pasta is laid out flat, switch to the fettuccine-cutting roller, and pass the pieces of dough through, one at a time. If your pieces are very long, cut them into more manageable lengths. Again, spread out the dough and cover with a towel so that it does not dry out. 

al dente (it will continue to cook in the hot sauce). Drain, reserving about a cup of the cooking water.

Add the sauce to the skillet (you may not need all of it) and, if necessary, reheat until hot, stirring to incorporate the fat that was left in the skillet. Add the pasta and toss to coat with the sauce. If the sauce is very thick and you would like to thin it out, add some of the reserved cooking water.

Divide the pasta among the plates. If you like, slice the sausage into pieces that are a little more than 1/4-inch thick, ans divide the slices among the plates. Or, place a whole sausage on each plate. Garnish with the fried sage leaves, if using.

Fresh Pasta

• 400 grams all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon Kosher salt
• 4 large eggs

Mound the flour onto a large cutting board or other work surface, and make a well in the middle. Sprinkle the salt over the flour, then add the eggs to the well.

Using your fingers or a fork, break the egg yolks, mix the eggs together a bit, and keep swirling while you gradually incorporate the flour into the eggs. Use your other hand to keep the outer wall intact as you swirl on the inside. This takes some practice, so don't worry if your well breaks--just mix it all together.

Knead the dough for 10 minutes. Seriously--10 minutes. Use primarily the palms of your hands, and occasionally fold the dough in half and continue kneading. When the dough is very soft and silky, almost cloud-like, wrap it in plastic and let it sit at room temperature for 30 minutes. Proceed with rolling as instructed above.

Fried Sage Leaves

• Canola oil, for deep-frying
• About 16 smallish sage leaves

In a small pot, heat oil for deep frying to 275 degrees. Fry the small sage leaves briefly, just until they are crisp (their color should not change), and dry on paper towels. 

Green Pasta with a Goat Cheese and Scallion Filling in an Olive Butter Sauce, Hot Italian Sausage, Broccoli Rabe, and Lemon Bars

If you can call an event of two years standing a tradition, then you could say that my family has a Valentine's Day tradition; namely, we make a nice dinner and hang out. Not a big deal, but a fun change from the usual depressing restaurant scramble.

It started last year when, for the first time in forever, Nick and I both had off on Valentine's Day, and we didn't know what to do with ourselves. We didn't especially want to make a nice dinner and stay at home because we do that all the time, and we were certainly not going to go to a restaurant.

Why do I say that? Because we both worked in restaurants long enough to know that if you go out on Valentine's Day, you'll be fighting your way through hordes of amateurs in order to be given sub-par food from the too-busy kitchen by a server who just wants to get you the heck out of that table because you're just a lousy two-top, and there are a million more behind you.

I don't mean to sound all anti-Valentine's Day, and I'm not going to whine about how it's a Hallmark holiday invented exclusively for commercial ends. I think it's a cute idea, but it seems rather silly when you've been together for over a decade.

On the other hand, maybe that's when you most need days like Valentine's Day, but I frequently find that days like Valentine's Day and New Years inherently come with so much pressure to make a special day out of them that it oftentimes backfires and you're left broke, grouchy, and disappointed.

Thus, the family V. Day was born. We figured that we wouldn't be sitting home doing the ordinary thing, we would be with people we love (which is, after all, the point), it's bound to be fun, and there's no pressure.

Here are some pictures from last year:

Super fun.

So this year, I wanted a meal that was special without being expensive, rich without being overly fancy, and highly portable.

This is what I came up with:

Hot Italian sausage, broccoli rabe sauteed with garlic, green pasta with a goat cheese scallion filling tossed in an olive butter, and gateau a l'orange chat.

Kidding. She's not dessert, she just likes to sleep in the bowl, and we disturbed her. I don't know why she likes to sleep in that bowl, but she does. Call the Health Department!

Did you know that female orange tabbys are very rare?

So I started prep the night before and I started by making the dough for the real dessert--Lemon Bars from Ad Hoc. I know that lemon doesn't exactly scream Valentine's Day, but Whole Foods once again had Meyer lemons for a great price, so I had some sitting in a fridge. And while this isn't an anti-Valentine's Day sort of night, but I figured there was no need to go with the usual chocolate dessert. I once again wanted some bright, sunny lemony-ness in the snow-covered depths of winter.

Back to the dough--this dough was quite unlike anything I've ever made before; it was sort of half cake and half tart. It started with creaming sugar and butter together in the stand mixer.

Which, by the way, I was actually able to do. You see, I had the bright idea to buy a stand mixer on eBay because I'm too broke to pay the retail price. I not only managed to buy two stand mixers and thereby establish a self-imposed ban on eBay buying, I bought one without the paddle attachment because I thought that the dough hook and whisk would be just fine.

Not so. It turns out that the paddle attachment is way more useful than the dough hook. Remember how I bent the whisk this past Christmas? Well, when it came time to get my birthday present, Nick thoughtfully went to get me a new whisk. This, however, turned out to be a complicated endeavor, so he ended up with the paddle attachment. Little did he know that it was exactly what I needed, and I had been putting off buying one.

Not that you care, though.

So I creamed together the butter and sugar, added some vanilla and a bit of flour, and that was that.

The dough was wrapped up and put in the fridge for later assembly. Now it was time to make the lemon curd. This process involved mixing together eggs, sugar and lemon juice, then adding butter.

I've mentioned before that I like really tart lemon desserts, so I was perturbed by the lack of lemon zest. I know, I know--I've also said that I like to make recipes the way they're written the first time, and I've said that Thomas Keller is The Man, and I'll do whatever he tells me to do.

So I went looking for the microplane zester, but it was nowhere to be found. And I mean nowhere. I looked for that little bugger for a long time, but it was to no avail. I think that Thomas Keller is such a mad genius that he knew I was going to attempt just such a move, so he snuck into my house and stole my zester.

So I tried using the tiny little holes on the side of the box grater, and this is what happened:

The zest just got all stuck in those little holes. What are they for, anyway?

So no zest went in the curd. Mr. Keller, if I promise not to mess up any more of your recipes, can I have my zester back? I like it a lot. Thank you.

When the curd was finished, its top was covered with plastic wrap, and it, too, was set aside to await later assembly. Or at least most of it was. It was so delicious that I just could not help taking the occasional spoonful or three, partially because it was so deliciously tart. I'm sorry, Master Keller; I'll never doubt you again!!

I should also mention that when I woke up that afternoon, yes afternoon, I mixed together some flour, water, salt and yeast for Jim Lahey's ciabatta bread and let it sit there because that's all you have to do. On Valentine's day, the first thing I did was dump out the dough and push it around in order to get its second rise started.

In the meantime, I made the green pasta dough by blanching some spinach (I read the directions properly this time), and mixed the chopped leaves with the eggs.

This all went into a flour well, and the egginess was spun around until it was combined with the flouriness.


The resulting dough was then kneaded for 10 minutes. There are times when 10 minutes go by in the blink of an eye, but not so much when you're pushing some dough around. It really does take 10 minutes for the dough to achieve the proper texture, though, so no slacking here.

When I finally finished and the dough was resting, I made the pasta filling by mixing together the goat cheese and scallions, olive oil, Parmesan, eggs, salt, pepper, and a pinch of nutmeg. Oh great. I need the microplane zester for the nutmeg.

Can I please have it back, T.K.? The box grater sufficed for this task, though.

At some point the bread was baked, and it was then time to roll out the tart dough. Eeesh. It was super-dry and crumbly when I first made it, but I had been hoping that the rest in the fridge would alleviate this problem.

Not so much. I did manage, though, to roll it out into an almost-rectangular shape. It was then flipped over into a half sheet pan, and the bits that broke were kind of smooshed back over to the edges. Like I've said before, that's the good thing about tart-like desserts--when you mess up the dough, it's not noticeable in the final product.

The tart shell was baked until golden, cooled, the lemon curd was poured in, and the whole thing went into the freezer. Thomas Keller states that freezing the dessert provides the curd with a lovely texture, "Somewhat firm but amazingly creamy." I wouldn't really know because my last-minute butt had this in the freezer a little too late, but more on that later.

Now it was time to roll out the pasta dough.

Every time I make pasta, there is some point at which I become fearfully convinced that this time, it's just not going to work. Sometimes it's when I'm swirling the eggs into the flour. Sometimes it's when I'm kneading the dough, but this time it was when I was rolling it out.

Actually, when I make pasta there are times when I think that none of those steps are going to work, but the necessary alchemy does somehow transpire.

The pasta was cut into "squares" and filled. I say "squares" because it turns out that I lacked the ability to cut the dough into uniform shapes that even remotely resembled squares, and my ravioli were therefore of wildly different sizes and shapes. Whatever. They'll overcook in the same time.

That's right, I overcooked the pasta. It's the penguins' fault.

I was just about ready to pull the pasta out of the boiling water when this penguin picture fell Splat! right in. I suppose they missed their usual watery environment. When I yelled, "F*&$!" my Dad probably thought that I had wrought massive destruction in his kitchen. Not quite massive, but I am sorry about the picture.

By the time I had fished out the penguins and run in a couple circles, the pasta was overcooked, and it didn't help that it was then tossed in a warm olive butter sauce. Oh, well. It was still delicious enough for Hunter to state that he could eat it every night of the week. That's quite a review from the guy who claims not to like pasta.

"That's not pasta," he says. Okay.

I liked it, but goat cheese is one of those things that's difficult to eat after you've been smelling it for hours. More problematic for me was the fact that it got a bit grainy when cooked. It's probably my fault somehow, though, and it still tasted quite delicious.

The sausage were excellent, and the broccoli rabe was awesome. Broccoli rabe is another one of those supposedly simple things that I just can't ever seem to cook properly. I've tried big-pot blanching and steaming followed by sauteing, and I've ended up with water-logged florets, even after thorough draining. I've tried just straight-up sauteing both the whole spears and the spears in pieces, and I end up with textural issues both ways. This time, however, I was inspired by a recipe that instructs you to peel the stalks. I think it was from a Mario Batali recipe, although it's a very Frenchy thing to do.

I don't know if it was the peeling that did it, or if the trick was to understeam them, but the broccoli were perfect. Yay, me.

After dinner, it was time to assemble the lemon bars. Thomas Keller instructs you to loosen the edges by running a knife around the edges of the sheet pan, and to lift the whole thing out and transfer it to a platter. Yeah, right, I said. This whole thing is totally not coming out in one p...ummm...it totally did.

Okay! I'm sorry I doubted you! Again!

You're then supposed to cut the whole thing into squares, which you are to reassemble. I did this part, but I didn't cut off the crust edges like he told me to. Sorry! I really like crust and couldn't bear to part with it. I don't care if it's not pretty. I probably shouldn't have admitted to that, though, because I'm totally not getting that zester back now.

I had previously made meringue, which I had brought with me in a plastic container. The recipe states that ideally, the meringue is to be made right before serving the bars. I know that, but it just wasn't going to happen.

You know what else wasn't going to happen? Piping the meringue onto the reassembled bars in pretty little spirals.

I might have done that if I had been at home, but it was so not happening at someone else's house. What I did instead was make quenelles, and placed one or two on each of the bars. Good enough.

It was then time to brown them. T.K. says that you can skip this step it you must, but I decided not to be a slacker for once, so I broke out the torch. There's no need, by the way, to get a fancy $30 torch from some place like Williams-Sonoma. A $10 torch from the hardware store works just as well.

Okay, almost as well. My particular torch cannot be turned horizontally, or it extinguishes itself. No problem--just hold the food at an angle.

This is what Hunter thinks of the torch:

I had mentioned before that the lemon bars never had a chance to freeze all the way. Therefore, they sort of started oozing almost right away, and I didn't get a chance to experience what Keller describes as a "great" texture.

That's okay, though, because they were still delicious, and satisfyingly lemony in a way that kept me eating more and more of them. That's why I got Nick to take them to work the next morning--I didn't trust myself to be around them long enough to take them to work that night.

Nick's coworkers loved them, and one person even knew that they were made with Meyer lemons rather than regular lemons. These bars are another example of how contrasting textures create a dish that is just impossible to stop eating. In this case, the crisp shell filled with the oozy lemon curd and the fluffy meringue made a compulsively edible team.

I have to say, though, that I might prefer plain old lemon meringue pie, because the bars, while delicious, were just a bit too sweet for me. They weren't a pointless saccharine, though, as they were also rather rich, which helped support the sweetness.

Overall, I would have to say that this dinner was much better than a restaurant dinner would have been, and it was pressure-free. Who cares if what you cook for your family isn't perfect? They'll love you anyway, right?

Goat Cheese and Scallion Ravioli with Black Olive Butter

(From Molto Italiano)

Makes 6 servings

• 1 1/4 pounds green pasta dough
• 2 cups fresh soft goat cheese (about 1 pound)
• 1/4 cup freshly grated Pecorino Romano
• 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 large egg, lightly beaten
• 6 scallions, thinly sliced
• Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
• Slat and freshly ground black pepper
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 2 tablespoons olive paste
• 1/4 cup freshly grated Pecorino Romano

Divide the pasta dough into 4 pieces. Roll each piece through the thinnest setting on a pasta machine and lay the sheets on a lightly floured surface. Cut each sheet into 12 three-inch squares. Cover with a towel.


To make the filling, combine the goat cheese, Pecorino, olive oil, egg, scallions, nutmeg, and salt and pepper to taste in a large bowl and mix until well blended.


To assemble the ravioli, place 1 scant tablespoon filling in the center of each pasta square. Fold the two opposite corners together to form a triangular pillow, gently pressing out any air pockets, then press the edges together to seal; if the pasta is a little dry, moisten the edges with a little water to help them adhere. Transfer to a lightly floured work surface.


Bring 6 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot, and add 2 tablespoons salt.


Meanwhile, to make the sauce, combine the butter and olive oil paste in a 12-inch sauté pan and heat over medium heat, stirring, until the butter is just starting to bubble. Remove from the heat.


Gently drop the ravioli into the boiling water, reduce the heat to a low boil, stir to separate the ravioli, and cook until the pasta is tender, 3 to 4 minutes. Remove from the water with a slotted spoon or a skimmer, draining well, and place in the pan with the sauce. Simmer for 1 minute over low heat. 


Transfer the ravioli to a warmed serving platter, sprinkle with the Pecorino, and serve immediately.

Lentil and Sausage Casserole, Glazed Brussels Sprouts and Shallots

I was looking for something simple to make for dinner, as I had just worked the previous 5 days in a row. Poor me, right? Well, in my defense, it was 5 days of working from 7 p.m. to 7:30 a.m, and the previous night found me covered head to toe in amniotic fluid. This tends to leave me a bit spacey and tired by the time I have a night off. As I drank my coffee and ate my peanut butter toast, I flipped through some of the potentially simple cookbooks, and texted Nick for his opinion.

Not surprisingly, Nick wanted sausage, and he told me so in a smart-ass way that should probably not be repeated in text. That boy could live off of sausage and pizza. In fact, when I work a lot, he does.

So sausage and lentil casserole it is, courtesy of My French Kitchen. After I thought about it, I realized that this, too, could be considered a braise. Well, braising is a lovely cooking method in the winter time. And the best part of this dish may have been the fact that there was almost nothing that I had to buy for it. We have sausage in the freezer due to Nick's habit, we had onions, we had carrots, we had a can of tomatoes, I thought that we had fresh thyme (more on that later), and there was a perfect little bag of lentils that had been staring me in the face every time I opened the pantry door. At least twice a week I would think, "I should really find a way to use those lentils. And those dried apricots. And the dried peppers. Maybe the sesame seeds, too..."

You see, I had it in my head for a while that at some point the world would be under siege by a swarm of zombies, and the people who could sequester themselves in their house for a long period of time would be the survivors. Like in 28 Days Later.

(Scary)
In fact, we were discussing this scenario over Christmas Eve dinner, and we decided that depending on the type of zombie in question, my apartment may be ideally situated. You see, it's about 50 feet off the ground with a stairwell leading to the fire escapes, and at the bottom is a heavy door that can be locked from the inside. If we could block off the glass doors at the front entrance, we'd be okay if the zombies are the slow stupid old-school kind.

(Not really scary)
If they're like the 28 Days Later zombies, we'd probably also be survivors, especially because you only have to make it for 28 days (hence the hoarding). Then we decided, however, that if they were zombies like the ones in I Am Legend, we'd probably be in trouble.

(Very scary)
At this point, my brother Garrett said almost to himself, "Yeah, that's more like real zombies." You really had to be there, but this will go down in history as one of the best lines ever. It's right up there with a friend saying, "I've been training for this my whole life" 8 hours into tailgating at NASCAR. Yes, NASCAR.

Anyway...I've pretty much gotten over my zombie/hoarding issues, so it was quite nice to use up some of the overabundance of food that I've stored up. You're supposed to use pre-cooked sausages for this recipe, but we generally (unless we're talking chorizo) prefer uncooked ones. Perhaps if we had access to high-quality Frenchy pre-cooked sausages like the Toulouse sausages that were called for, we would change our minds, but the ones we've previously gotten tend to taste a bit flat and metallic.

So we seared the sausages in a bit of oil, then sauteed the miropoix in the resulting juices. Speaking of miropoix, the recipe really only called for onions and celery, but I love me some carrots with lentils. Tomato paste was then added, which I also did not have to buy. You know how recipes always call for just a tablespoon of tomato paste? Well, I freeze the remainder of the can in little tablespoon-sized portions. You don't even have to defrost it when you need it-just throw it in your soup or stew, and voila.

We added some garlic, and a can of diced tomatoes. I know it's going to sound like I'm changing a lot of stuff, but the recipe called for fresh tomatoes, which I just cannot buy in January. Plus, I think that canned tomatoes are frequently better in soups and stews as they are more flavorful. Some red wine went in there, a bay leaf went in there, and some pathetic fresh thyme went in there.

You see, I had recently bought one of those little pots of fresh thyme because we use a lot of thyme, and I was hoping that because it's alive, none would go to waste. Well, I've had a little plant killing problem lately, so while I knew that the thyme wasn't a happy little specimen, I didn't really realize just how crappy it was.

(Exhibit A. Note the dead bits. The rest looked okay, but was dried out.)

(Exhibit B)

(Exhibit C)

(Exhibit D)

So we added some dried thyme. I know, I know--I'm just messing this recipe all up. The sausages were then added to the Dutch oven, and the whole thing went into the oven for half an hour.

In the meantime, I started the Brussels sprouts and shallots. Last year I managed to convince Nick that Brussels sprouts are delicious, and we have since hit upon a fabulous cooking method. We caramelize some sliced shallots in butter and oil, add the sliced-up sprouts, saute them for a while, then add some white wine and water. They simmer until the liquid has evaporated, and the sprouts then take on a nice pan-sear.

Nick was very skeptical about the method proposed in Parisian Home Cooking, but it didn't sound too different from the one we usually employ, so I figured it couldn't turn out too badly. What you do is cut an X in the root end of the sprouts. The tricky part is that you have to find a pan that will fit the sprouts and shallots in a single layer, and you put the sprouts, butter, salt and sugar in it initially, and add water 3/4 of the way up the sprouts. You boil the water for a few minutes, add the shallots (which also have an X at the root end but are otherwise left whole), and boil the water away. The shallots and sprouts then get brown and toasty.

Well, it was similar to our usual recipe, but we weren't crazy about the texture of the sprouts or the shallots. The recipe promises that the Brussels won't get soggy, so their mushiness was probably a result of my suckiness. And some of the shallots were half raw. Actually, that's probably my fault, too. You can say, "I told you so," Nick.

So whether the less than stellar results were my fault or not, we decided that we prefer our normal method. We also decided that we will likely not have Brussels sprouts again in the near future. As I said, Nick had decided that he likes them now, and he had recently asked that we have them as the default winter vegetable. But I have a tendency to cook and eat the same thing again and again and again, to the point where Nick is begging me not to make it anymore. In fact, I did that with Brussels sprouts last winter.

So Nick clarified that when he tells me that he's craving something, he can eat it once and be satisfied. This is the second time in as many weeks that we've had Brussels sprouts, so fine. We won't have them again anytime soon.

Okay, so I went to take the braise out after the half hour was up. I had managed to get the sprouts finished at exactly the same time, but that was just too bad. You see, half an hour is not long enough to cook lentils. I knew that, so why did I believe the recipe?
So the lentils got some oregano because I thought it was needed, and back into the oven they went. At this point, Nick had retired to the couch to watch the playoff game. I understood the importance of said playoff game, so he was gladly dismissed. But that meant that he started whining, "Is it dinner time yet?" Fine. You get some crunchy lentils, buddy.

Seriously, though, the sausage was tasty and the lentils could kindly be described as al dente. I had gotten a baguette in case Nick didn't like the lentils, and it got eaten, despite that fact that it was a totally sucky baguette.
The verdict? The sprouts will not be made again with this method, and the lentil and sausage dish will maybe make a reappearance, but with a modified cooking time. We have a lot of lentils left, and because they are rather tasty, I'm going to add a diced potato, some more carrots and some water, and turn it into a nice soup. How frugal of me in these tough economic times.

*Please pardon the lack of pictures in this post. I accidentally shot most of the pictures in RAW format, and I can't for the life of me figure out how to work with them now. I'm about to start tearing out my hair, so picture adding will be attempted later.