Gracious Gratitude

 

                          

 

Today marks the date that spoke for the last time with two very special people, my mom and my nephew, Josh.  I learned of their passing in the wee hours of Thanksgiving, thirty years apart.

My beloved mom and my cherished nephew, are more alive now than ever—they just resides at a different address, separated by time and space. Moments like these defy any script; they were never meant to be part of the plan. The pain of great love is found in learning to let go.

Grief, hope, and joy are intertwined, a delicate tightrope we walk in search of balance. I’ve learned this deeply, especially in the quiet hours of Thanksgiving, a time now marked by profound loss and gracious gratitude.

Thirty two years ago, I said goodbye to my beloved mother, and two years ago, to my dear nephew, Josh. Back then, I wrestled with questions that challenged my faith: How can God be good if He allows such pain? Is this my fault? Can these hardships truly be gifts?

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 reminds us that there is a season for everything under the sun, and how we navigate each season matters. I’m learning to embrace this truth, though I may not like it. Life is a broken-heart factory, yet it is also brimming with His glory. It’s only by holding both truths—the pain and the beauty—that we can let go and find joy.

The only way to grow through grief without becoming bitter is to cultivate habits that keep your heart soft. Gratitude is one of those habits. Giving thanks even in the hardest moments is how we protect our hearts and find joy again. Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday, though there were years when the feast felt more like a choice than a celebration.

Inside each of us is a hidden place where we bury our deepest tragedies. But in these darkest hours, I am learning profound truths: joy and hope can survive not because of our circumstances, but because of who God is.

• God is faithful, renewing His love and compassion every morning (Lamentations 3:23).
• God is a promise-keeper, always true to His Word (Psalm 145:13). His plans are eternally good, even if they look different from what we expect.
• God is our provider, meeting every need—emotional, physical, spiritual—because that’s who He is (Philippians 4:19).
• God is present, promising never to abandon us, even in life’s fiercest storms (Matthew 28:20).

The ultimate truth is that even amid life’s fiercest winds and waves, we can hold onto joy and hope because of who God is. This world, broken as it is, is not the end of the story.

We are born into a world marked by sin and mortality (Romans 5:12), our bodies fragile yet fearfully and wonderfully made. But the end is better than the beginning: a heavenly banquet with saints clothed in radiant robes, gathered around a table that stretches into eternity.

Before that day comes, though, there will be seasons of thorns and thistles, sweat and tears. There will also be moments of laughter, love, and grace. This chapter, no matter how dark, is not the final one. The Word, the Light, Love Himself, has already written the last line.

So, I will stay in His story, trusting that He can restore every broken heart. The next step on this tightrope of grief is always the same: walk forward with gratitude, eyes fixed on God.

And I look forward to the day when my mom and Josh can show me around his new home.

I was reminded of Sarah Edwards' poignant letter to her daughter, Esther, written after the passing of her husband, Jonathan Edwards.  It offers a profound glimpse into her faith and theology. It begins with these heartfelt words:

"My Very Dear Child,
What shall I say? A holy and good God has covered us with a dark cloud. O that we may kiss the rod, and lay our hands on our mouths! The Lord has done it. He has made me adore his goodness, that we had him so long. But my God lives; and he has my heart. O what a legacy my husband, and your father, has left us! We are all given to God, and there I am, and love to be.

Your ever affectionate mother,
Sarah Edwards.

---

The letter reflects Sarah's unwavering acknowledgment of God's holiness and goodness, even amid deep sorrow. Her words demonstrate a remarkable trust in God's sovereignty, as she accepts the "dark cloud" of her loss not with bitterness but with submission and gratitude. She does not begrudge God's will but embraces it, knowing that His purposes surpass human understanding.

"O that we may kiss the rod and lay our hands on our mouths"

This line, though unusual to modern readers, echoes several Biblical passages. It conveys a willingness to accept suffering as a form of God's discipline and mercy, inspired by verses like Psalm 119:71 ("It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes") and Job 40:4-5 ("I lay my hand on my mouth"). Sarah exemplifies a faith that trusts God's plans, even when they are shrouded in mystery.

"The Lord has done it"

Much like Job's declaration, "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord" (Job 1:21), Sarah acknowledges God's ultimate authority over life and death. She recognized that Jonathan's life was part of God's divine plan and rested in the assurance that nothing occurs outside His control.

"He has made me adore his goodness, that we had him so long"

In this phrase, Sarah models gratitude in the face of loss. Rather than dwelling on her grief, she expresses thankfulness for the years she had with her husband. Her heart posture reflects the spirit of 1 Thessalonians 5:18: "Give thanks in all circumstances." This attitude is a striking reminder of the importance of focusing on God's blessings, even amid trials.

"But my God lives, and he has my heart"

 God had Sarah’s heart. Her full submission to God as her heavenly father circumvented any major crisis of faith. The depth of this statement demonstrates her devotion despite what it cost on a personal level. God had proved his faithfulness throughout her life. She knew his character. She trusted his promises. No matter what God brought into her life, Sarah could rest assured of God’s sovereign love for her. “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). This verse does not imply that we will be without trials but reminds us of God’s faithfulness and intentionality toward us in those trials. We can trust our God.

"O what a legacy my husband, and your father, has left us! We are all given to God, and there I am, and love to be"

Here, Sarah reflects on Jonathan's enduring impact. She rejoices not only in his work and ministry but in the spiritual inheritance he left their family. Yet, above all, she delights in her relationship with God. Her words testify to her deep love for Christ, valuing Him above all earthly blessings. 

 Sarah Edwards' letter is a remarkable example of faith in the midst of suffering. It reveals her profound trust in God's sovereignty and her steadfast commitment to glorifying Him, even in the darkest moments. As she nurtured a deep love for God, she also passed on this legacy of faith to her children, reminding us to cherish God's goodness and trust His purposes. Her words inspire me to draw nearer to God, finding hope and strength in His unwavering love. Oh, to have the faith of Sarah Edwards.  The cloud was dark, almost black. But He is good and He is holy. That is the kind of faith I long for, gracious gratitude.

The Wisdom That Comes From Rising Above the Clouds

 

"The sky is always blue, sometimes you just have to rise above the clouds to see it.” 

                                                                                                                      - M. High

 

 

 

 

                                                                                Photo- IStock Getty Images

 

 

I will never forget my first flight above the clouds in the late 1980’s. I was on my way to New York City to study at Parsons School of Design.  There was a mass of dark clouds and turbulence as we were ascending out of Detroit, but once the plane was at 10,000 ft the sky was blue and sunny. It was here that I had a moment of stark clarity and experienced unbridled truth. It rocked my world.

 

I realized that no matter how thick the cloud layer, and how stormy it may be, there was still a blue sky beyond it. Growing up in the Midwest near the Great Lakes, cloudy, gloomy days are a part of life. (you might have around 60ish non-cloudy days). Between the arctic air masses out of Canada, the tropical air masses from the gulf and the lake effect, it was frequently cloudy. I had no clue that the sun was always there, until we broke through the clouds.

Life is all about perspective. In reality, it is a sunny day every day, you just have to rise about the clouds to see it.

I am really sensing the heightened emotional despair in people in the community. Even though the average of daily new cases is going down, it seems like the emotional, mental and behavioral effects are on the rise.  We are just seeing the tip of the iceberg.  The secondary effects of the pandemic due to fear, illness, grief, job loss, social isolation and uncertainty are just starting to manifest themselves in the population at large.  Collectively, for the past two years, we’ve spent so much of our time and energy living life beneath the clouds.

 

I know personally, the last two years have certainly stretched my faith and exposed where I trusted more in the structure of our society than in God. Each new headline or breaking news bulletin is like a lightning bolt on the horizon — a storm of change, a cloud of despair.

It is really a spiritual battle. When the clouds of the enemy overshadow us, and obscure the view from time to time, we mustn't doubt that Jesus still watches over us. God is in control. By the eye of faith we must penetrate through the gloom and see Christ, who always watches over His children.

Instead of despairing, we patiently trust that He will work all things out for good, in His time, even though we may not be able to see His providences right now.

As we do this, the Bible promises. "But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint." - Isaiah 40.31

 

 

Here are some jewels of truth, verses that remind us that our Creator God is still in control.

 

When the earth totters, and all its inhabitants, it is I who keep steady its pillars. Psalm 75:3

 

If ever there were a theme verse for the past two years, this would be it. A pandemic, worldwide restrictions and closures, stock market ups and downs, scarcity, inflation, job losses, tensions and rioting. But through all of this, God keeps the earth spinning on its axis.

 

The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. And those who know your name put their trust in you, for you, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek you. Psalm 9:9-10

 

A stronghold. Somewhere to run for safety when the world is shifting around us. Our God is our stronghold and will never leave us.

 

The Lord upholds all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down.  Psalm 145:14

 

He knows what we need. He knows when we are falling, and when we feel like we’re falling. He will hold us up through whatever loss or lack we face.

 

This I know, that God is for me.  Psalm 56:9c

 

David wrote this psalm when he found himself in the Philistine camp while running for his life from Saul. He was surrounded by enemies. As David reminded himself to trust God, he staked his hope on this: No matter what danger threatened, God was for David. We can face anything with God on our side.

 

Blessed be the Lord, who daily bears us up; God is our salvation.  Psalm 68:19

 

It is so freeing to know that God doesn’t limit how often He will help us. He doesn’t just carry us through our problem once, or even just once a week. David — like each of us — trusted that God would hold him up every. single. day.

 

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.  John 16:33

 

Jesus doesn’t say we won’t have problems. But He does promise that He has already overcome any problems we will face.

 

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love.  John 15:9

 

This one blows my mind. We say that God is love and that He loves us, and both are true. But can we ever really understand that Jesus loves us as the Father loves Him? We will probably never grasp the intricacies of the Trinity and the theology of this verse, but one thing is clear: Jesus really, really loves us. More than we can truly understand, and infinitely more than we could ever love Him back.

 

Even when the clouds are there, you are still always protected and never without love and light guiding you.  Beautiful days are coming. This is the wisdom that comes from rising above the clouds.

You Can Bring Alot More Than Food to the Dinner Table

 

                            The Dinner Table                         Henri Matisse, 1897

 

I've have always loved to see how a painter's style has evolved.  Sometimes it's a sudden change, sometimes it's a more gradual change.  The same thing goes for cooks. The creative process is always fun for me, whether in food, art, music, writing, or ideas for businesses.  I'm heavily influenced by my environment and adventures and whenever possible, I take those experiences and place them in my creations. 

It's been over 11 years since I stepped bewildered onto Tennessee soil.  A world full of humid summers, kudzu and country music, a quaint land of mysteries and oddities, especially when it came to how folks nourish themselves.  My first stop on my culinary journey in the south was at Puckett's Grocery and Restaurant in Franklin, TN. We were exhausted and stumbled in for dinner after a whirlwind day of moving in and unpacking.  Little did I know that this was the beginning of a magical journey.  (It's still my favorite restaurant.) (The first phase of culture shock- the honeymoon phase)

After living most of my life "up north," "out east" or in the southwest, I wasn't used to food that was hearty, creamy, carby or dreamy.  My taste buds, especially after 11 years in Arizona were accustomed to exuberant, lively, spicy and forceful. 

I felt a bit like an abandoned cook surrounded by inaccessible treasured family recipes, "authentic preparation," and incomplete directions.  At first, I tried recreating the recipes, and became very frustrated because they defied me.  I tried fusion, it was interesting, but I still was not hitting the mark.  What I always loved the most about cooking is that it's a puzzle to be solved.

I must say, there was a certain thrill at the idea of a major shift in the rules of my kitchen game.  

I visited numerous grocery stores that knew nothing of cilantro, tomatillos, Italian Sausage or truffle oil. 

I walked befuddled, up and down the tiny aisles of mom and pop gas stations in small towns that are worth more than their weight in charm, where they stocked pickled eggs, gizzards, pickled sausages, chitlins, chow chow, boiled peanuts, fried green hand pies and nabs. (I also discovered absolutely mouthwatering fried poultry, "that gas station chicken", so good y'all. Take one bite and you will understand the hype!)

I frequented farmers markets and farm stands with unfamiliar displays of things like okra, collard and mustard greens, butter beans, pokeweed, black eyed peas, ramps and pluots.  

I dined at people's homes where the summer menu featured whole hog barbeque, collard greens, coca cola cake and divinity, and where I learned that macaroni and cheese is a vegetable.

I celebrated holidays with menus that included sausage balls, potato candy, hoppin john,  corn bread stuffing, brandy milk punch, corn pudding, and chess pie. 

I foraged the countryside for watercress, dandelion greens, hickory nuts, wild onions, Jerusalem artichokes, black walnuts, mulberrys, blackberries and the elusive pawpaws.

I ate at restaurants where fried green tomatoes, pimento cheese blt's, corn fritters, hoe cakes, hush puppies, shrimp and grits, possum and shoefly pie were on the menu. 

This Yankee girl was lost on unfamiliar ground and all shook up! (the second phase of culture shock- frustration)

In the past 11 years, I've embraced the gamut of southern gastronomy. But it was only once I discovered the whys and wherefores of southern cooking with the cultures and the stories of the people that discovered or created them, the culinary groundwork, the food seems peculiar and unapproachable. People matter.  Their stories matter. When there is no cultural tradition to key into, the food on a plate seems isolated and lifeless, kind of like what happens when you don't use a colored ground when creating an oil painting, or creating your business on something other than your passion.

What I  have learned is that you can bring a lot more than food to the dinner table. (the third phase of culture shock- adjustment)

 I've never been good at math, but a little history + a little affection + pure culinary magic!!

These southern cooks are individualists who care about food, spirits, music, art, religion and family and the good life.  The holy and the secular meet head-on at the Southern dinner table.  These special people are endowed with an insight that helps them see a profound joy in living and eating and loving. 

Dinner will be served promptly at 6:00 PM and Aunt Lola is bringing her special dish of Cheesy Grit Fritters with Hot Pepper Jelly. The Cheerwine Bourbon Slushes are coming via Uncle Lawson, and Mama Marabelle is baking her Chocolate Chess Pie with Cornbread Crumble. Now sit down and relax. Everything will be just fine.  (the fourth phase of culture shock-acceptance)

Yes, everything will be just fine. 

A Taste of New England

New England summers have always had a special place in my heart.  It is a magical land, a great destination regardless where you live.  Crab shacks dot the landscape across New England, Cape Cod and the islands.  Ahhh.... behold, the clam shack, purveyors of Cape Cod-style fast food beloved by tourists and locals alike. ... I can see it now, me at the window ordering one of my favorite summer treats, a impossibly fresh shrimp roll.......Back to reality.

Being landlocked in Middle Tennessee, hours from the shore, the closest place I could find fresh shrimp was Whole Foods.  This is my version, my “unofficial” shrimp rolls.  They will do in a pinch when my heart is yearning for Martha’s Vineyard. 


Shrimp Rolls

2 lbs. medium shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 cup Duke’s mayonnaise. (My southern twist)
Zest of 1 lemon
Juice of ½ lemon
1/2 cup diced celery
1/2 cup diced cucumber
1/4 cup diced chives
1/8 tsp Zatarains liquid crab and shrimp boil. (**this is the secret ingredient!)
1/4 tsp Old Bay Seasoning
1 tablespoon dried dill
Salt and pepper to taste
Pepperidge Farm top-sliced hot dog buns
Room temperature butter

(Buy Pepperidge Farm top-slit hot dog buns. One of the irresistible qualities of a shrimp roll is the distinctive buns with the cut bread sides.  But I’ve never found them in any grocery store around here. If you get the top-slit hot dog buns and pull them apart, it automatically creates those cut bread sides, which you butter and fry until golden brown. Trust me, it makes the sandwich.)

Heat a medium skillet over medium high heat. Add about a tablespoon of butter and, when melted, saute the shrimp until both sides just turn pink, about 4 minutes. Remove the shrimp to a bowl and refrigerate until chilled. Wipe out the skillet.

Cut the shrimp into bite-sized pieces and add the mayonnaise, lemon zest. Lemon juice, celery, cucumber, chives, liquid crab boil, old bay and dill. Mix thoroughly and add salt and pepper to taste.

Pull apart the hot dog buns to reveal the bread sides. Butter each side of each bun and saute in the pan over medium high heat until both sides are brown, about 2 minutes.

Fill the buns with the shrimp salad and serve.

Did you catch the scent of salt air and the sound of distant surf????

Cooking Up a Story

I love stories.  Without stories, life would be insignificant.  Storytelling is part of our humanity, after all, we are all part of the greatest story, His-story. 

Being of Scotch-Irish descent, my family on both sides were wonderful storytellers.  Especially on my father's side.  They were raucous raconteurs, most of the time, the storyteller was in their story.  Everyone in the family created stories orally, but also in visual art, music, poetry and writing.  Their stories helped form who I am, they taught me to recognize and appreciate the uniqueness in everyone.  They sparked emotions, created meanings and most of all, memories. I think that's why everyone loves stories. Everyone has a story to tell.

My Grandma Young told stories through her cooking.  Everything she made had a story, or became part of a story.  That is where I learned to associate stories with food.

Storytelling seems to be inherent in the south.  It permeates every experience.  When we found out we were moving to the south, I conjured up images of front porch rockers, sweet tea and stories.  When we arrived in the south from the desert southwest, I felt I was home.  The south is a place with soul, a place with stories.  It took me a while to understand that you can never really "Be southern," if you weren't born here. 

I was excited for our first potluck. I had never been to a southern BBQ before. It was a week after we moved here.  I couldn't wait to make my friend, Nancy Erickkson's homemade salsa (the nectar of the gods!) and guacamole.  To me, having grown up in the north, and spending a number of years in Arizona,  a BBQ is a chicken part on the grill brushed with Kraft Honey Barbecue sauce.  I thought chips, salsa and guacamole were perfectly acceptable. I didn't have a clue of the southern BBQ tradition, except what I had seen in Gone With the Wind when they had a BBQ at Twelve Oaks.  I realized pretty quickly that, "I wasn't in Kansas anymore."  I heard someone say about the guacamole,  "What's that green stuff?"  Someone whispered back, "I think the dips gone bad." 

I found out pretty quickly that here in Franklin, no one in the grocery store knew what cilantro or tomatillos were.  You couldn't find a wrap until you reached Atlanta.  I didn't have the luxury of small, family-owned Asian/Hispanic/Italian/Eastern European/MidEastern markets, those wonderful places that hold so many treasures, flavors and ingredients, a cook's delight.  (A lot has changed in 8 years, Nashville is quickly becoming a global melting pot on the level of the Columbian Exchange, with a fusion of ideas and choices.) But 8 years ago, I decided that "When in Rome do as the Romans do." This Southwestern Yankee girl was going to learn to cook southern.  I've been working for the past 8 years trying to perfect traditional southern dishes, but something was woefully wrong.  I couldn't put my finger on it.  I just couldn't seem to master the cuisine because it was an acquired taste.  I poured over southern Junior League cookbooks, church cookbooks, Southern Living recipes, and worked tirelessly trying to recreate recipes for foods that we've tried in traditional southern fare restaurants.  It wasn't happening. I wasn't having any fun. 

I finally realized that I had gotten bogged down in artificial notions of authenticity.  The recipes were not my traditions. They were not my story.  They were part of my story, but not the whole thing.  Just like in visual art, drama, film, music, dance, poetry, etc, food has narrative powers.  It's a non-verbal narrative through taste sensations.  Adding ingredients from different traditions makes it familiar and can tell the story of the place, or the person.  Once I realized this, the shackles were released!

Finally, I am free!  I have been reveling in the narrative powers of food, telling my story in recipes.  (New England/MidAtlantic/Midwest/Chicago/Southwest/American South/Scotch/Irish/German/English/French/Eastern European/China/Philippines/Spain.  Using my cook's brain, I can instinctively tell if something is going to taste good or not.  

From now on, I'm going to create recipes that reacquaint people with their traditions and expose them to new traditions.  After all, witness the influence that Catherine de Medici's had on France when she moved from Florence to France to marry Henry the II in 1533.  She brought her chef's with her.  It changed the culinary world forever!

This weekend, we hosted friends from Scottsdale I was able to try out my new cuisine on them.  (They lived!)  I did a fusion Southwestern/Southern BBQ.  This was the menu:

Brazilian cheese bread bites stuffed with pimento cheese with jalapenos, roasted red peppers and garlic

Pork shoulder brined in molasses, pickling salt, apple cider vinegar, brown sugar, spices, kosher salt and injected with Dos Equis, prickly pear juice, apple juice, sugar, kosher salt and worcestershire sauce and rubbed with sugar and tons of spices, slow cooked for 9 hours.

Heirloom tomato salad with fresh peaches, goat cheese and pecans with basil, balsamic garlic vinaigrette
                                                 

Coleslaw with lime, cilantro, chipolte dressing
                                        

Macaroni and cheese with green chilies, roasted red pepper, Monterey Jack cheese and bacon

4-bean southwestern baked beans

Banana pudding/cream cheese/coconut creme trifle

Carrot cupcakes with caramel drizzle, topped with dried mango, papaya, pineapple, coconut, pecans
                                         

Strawberry infused lemonade with matcha and stevia greens

Food with stories. Food from the south where days are slow and meals are  made from scratch. Food that shapes our memories. That's what I want to make.

There's Tailgating, And Then There's Tailgating

 
                                                                                    

     This is tailgating in the north. This is the world I was born into. Think raw meat on a grill, a Corona with lime, a T-shirt and jeans, trunk open, the local radio station broadcasting the game. 

     In the north, what you see is what you get.  People pretty much say what they mean, do what they say and assume the shortest distance between two parts is a straight line.  Their mantra is, "Why do I insist on doing it the hard way when the easy way will do?"   

                                                                            And then.......

     This is tailgating in the south. I had no idea it existed! Think chandeliers, Greek columns and banquet-worthy spreads of food, blazers, bow ties, sun dresses, pearls, mile high heels, and live music. Who can resist a divine potluck, cocktail hour and a fashion show all rolled into one? 

The south, like anything worth knowing is complicated.  It's a land of stark contradiction. It's nothing if not a place of infinite mystery.         

    I'm definitely a northerner by birth, but I got to the south as fast as I could!          

 This Sauce is Genius!

I began my love affair with ethnic cuisines in Chicago, in the neighborhoods, those places that reduced the awesome experience of urban life to human scale. "The city of big shoulders", native Chicago poet Carl Sandberg called his hometown.  Chicago is a town big enough for everyone, and is home to many of the nationalities of the world, which has led to a lot of diversity, both cultural and culinary.  Every type of food you can think of you'll find in Chicago's kitchens. Taylor street in Chicago is where I realized that the Italian food that has come to our general American culture is at once delectable and embarrassing.  The delectable part comes from first class Italian kitchens, in Little Italy like The Rosebud and the embarrassing part comes from the host of chain Italian-American restaurants (who I won't name) that serve things that most Italians have never seen like chicken parmesean, stuffed shells and deep fried ravioli, not to mention dipping bread in olive oil and balsamic vinegar. 

Little Italy in Chicago is bordered on the north by the Eisenhower Expressway, on the East by the Kennedy Expressway, on the South by Roosevelt Rd and on the West by Polk Street. The Rosebud on Taylor is a charming restaurant with old world Italian spirit. It's my all-time favorite restaurant in Chicago. 

I've been working for years trying to perfect their pasta sauce. I think I may have finally nailed it! Everyone should have a hearty pasta sauce like this in their repertoire.  I love to serve it to food-loving friends with an earthy red wine. While it is perfectly delicious with the traditional sprinkling of freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, you might try topping it with a dollop of fresh ricotta and a grinding of fresh black pepper. Balance and harmony at it's best. 

The Rosebud's Pasta Sauce (Gwenn's version)

1/3 cup Olive Oil  (I love Colavita extra virgin)
7 cloves garlic, crushed
1 large yellow onion, finely chopped
10 cups cored and chopped very ripe fresh Roma tomatoes
1-28oz can whole plum tomatoes with juice (I love Contadina brand)
1/2 lb fresh mushrooms, chopped
1/4 cup fresg Italian flat leaf parsley (chopped)
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 cup chicken stock
1 tsp dried margoram
1 tsp fresh rosemary
1 tbsp fresh basil  (chopped)
1 tbsp fresh oregano (chopped)
6 tbsp salted butter
1 oz. dried porcini mushrooms
1 jar roasted red peppers packed in olive oil (or can make your own fresh)
1/2 cup sliced black olives
1/2 cup sliced large green olives (stuffed with garlic)
6 mild Italian Sausages, cooked and sliced about 1/2" thick
1 small can tomato paste (I love Contadina brand)
1 tsp sugar
Salt and pepper to taste

Freshly grated Parmagiano-Reggiano Cheese ( I love Kirkland brand-it's made from sheep's milk) or a dollop of Ricotta and freshly ground black pepper


Soak porcini mushroom in 1 cup of hot water for 45 minutes, drain and chop
Heat an 8-10 qt heavy bottom pot
Add oil, garlic, mushrooms, and onion.  Saute until the onion is clear
Add remaining ingredients except butter, salt and pepper
Bring to a simmer and cook uncovered for 4 hours stirring often.  Stir in butter, salt and pepper.
Serve over a bull bodied pasta like Rigatoni or Penne.
Serve with graded Parmagiano-Reggiano cheese or a dollop of Ricotta and freshly ground black pepper.

Mangia bene, vivi felice!