Walking to the Narrows on a Gray Day: Includes Recipe for Pasta with Sausage, Sage, and Browned Butter

img_4483Yesterday, my dog, Liam, and I took a walk to the Narrows Pond, about a quarter of a mile from our home. The day was gray, and it was sprinkling so lightly that I could hardly feel the drops on my raincoat. In fact, a rather nice day for a walk.

The Narrows Pond comprises the Upper and Lower Narrows, and the word pond does not do justice to these large, sparkling bodies of water. In my mind, ponds are small and what you find behind an old farm house. The Upper and Lower Narrows are more like lakes, and the Lower Narrows is quite deep—over 100 feet in some areas. My understanding is that what makes the Narrows a pond is the number of inlets—one—that flows into it. As with so many other things in life, when it comes to lakes and ponds, size doesn’t matter.

As Liam and I approached the Narrows, two crows sat at the top of a tree, and they called in warning as we walked past them. A string of ducks quacked and flew in their surging way, going from the Lower Narrows to the Upper Narrows. Way out on the water, so far out that I couldn’t see its distinctive profile, came the tremolo of a loon. “Where are you?” it seemed to ask. “Right here, right here,” I answered.

After the walk it was tea time on the couch, with the dog on one side of me and Sherlock, the orange cat, on my lap. Along with the tea—Earl Grey—I had an apple and a few pretzels. For a book, Gladys Taber’s Still Cove Journal.

By the time Clif came home from work—at 6 p.m.—it was dark, and the shades were drawn.  “What would you like for supper?” I asked. “Pasta with sausage, sage, and browned butter? Or, creamed tuna with dill and garlic over baked potatoes?”

Clif hesitated. “They both sound good.”

“What we don’t have tonight, we will have tomorrow.”

“Pasta and sausage, then.”

I suspected that would be his choice. Clif loves pasta, and he loves sausage, even if it is made with turkey rather than pork, as was the case last night. I had four big sausages—as opposed to the breakfast links—as well as plenty of sage growing in a pot outside.

This dish is so easy that it hardly needs a formal recipe, but for clarity’s sake, I’ll provide one anyway. The sage and browned butter over pasta is the base, and many, many things could be added or substituted: Shrimp, chicken, broccoli, mushrooms, and peppers, to name a few. This dish is so good that it qualifies as a company dish. It would go together easily while guests are finishing their wine and appetizers. Then, I guess, you would have to call it dinner rather than supper.

But midweek on a dark, wet night, the pasta with sage, browned butter, and sausage qualifies as supper.


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