The taxi zipped up through Spello, and my eyes darted around, eager to drink in the landmarks that had taken on the hue of a fever dream. I peered past the shoulders of tourists—so many tourists! All Italians apparently in search of a change of pandemic scenery—hoping to get a glimpse of Paola in her shop or Letizia serving caffè. No dice.

The driver deposited us and our year’s worth of luggage at our door in Spello as the bells announced noon. Our state at this point could best be described as a chaotic mix of fatigued and exhilarated, and—not surprisingly after our spare meals on Alitalia)—hungry.

Luckily Corrado Tordoni (an excellent person to contact about making one’s trip to the area easier, he was so easy to connect with as well as friendly and helpful) had filled out house with food. He’d asked for a shopping list before our trip, and even sent a pdf of the grocery store circular which helped us remember critical items. Like gelato. Too tired to formulate a meal, we sat down to a simple and perfect pranzo of cheeses featuring pecorino, two kinds of salami, prosciutto, and cold bubbly water. We peeled away the salami rind with flourish as we drank in the view, the meal, and our shared delirium. I can’t believe we’re here.

While napping, dinner ideas turned in my mind. I woke up eager to begin dinner preparations, to cook in this kitchen that will be the seat of my home for the next year. What would be the right meal?

I’m silly that way…I don’t just want the tasty meal, I want the right meal. Before we moved from Charlottesville, I obsessed over what would be the right final dinner in our home before we turned over the keys. I didn’t want to make Italian food, since we’ll be getting that and better so soon. Then again, Nicolas isn’t coming with us to Italy, and that feels sad and a little wrong.

So I landed on chicken marsala. It’s not really Italian, but it’s not American either, and so it fits our odd family straddle this year. Plus, it’s one of Nicolas’s favorites and as the last opportunity I had to cook for my boy for the foreseeable future, I wanted to shower him with maternal love through the medium of food.

But now we’ve arrived in Spello when for so long I thought we’d never make it…what shall I prepare to commemorate this day? Rooting through the well stocked refrigerator and cabinets I hit on the perfect idea—sausage sugo.

If you have a passing understanding of Umbrian foodways or my adoration of said customs, you know that in Umbria, pork is king. And I believe that pork fat is responsible for the unctuous nature of pasta sauce (read more about this in my post on how to make an extraordinary ragú).

It fell into place.

Even in an unfamiliar kitchen, my hands remembered how to turn on the gas next to the stove, how to press and turn the knob to ignite the flame and keep to steady. How to salt the pasta water with a handful of course salt. Soon the scent of browning sausage and deepening sauce dragged everyone by the nose to gather in the kitchen.

“it smells so gooooooooooooood!” It sounded like a lament, but I knew it for what it was… an eagerness without name. Coupled with an almost manic joy at being mask-free.

I shook the pasta in the box like a musical instrument. Corrado had stocked the cabinets with pastas short and long, and I contented myself for some time taking each one out of the cupboard and running my hands over the box like a cherished pet. For the first time in what felt like forever, I had time. Time to linger, no need to hurry onto the next obligation. This feeling, almost as much as the scent of browning sausage and the sound of the doves outside the window made me shiver in realization—we’re here.

Once cooked, I tossed the drained mezze maniche into the waiting sauce and then heaped it into bowls. We practically ran to the terrazza and settled in. Ready to fill ourselves with the familiar tastes of Umbria.

Ingredients:

• Olive oil to cover the bottom of your saucepan

• 1 small onion, chopped

• oregano, salt, red pepper flakes

• 3-5 pork sausage links with plenty of fat (number depends on their size and how strong you want it flavored), opened and casings discarded

• canned tomatoes (I used 3 small cans—2 whole and 1 pureed—but you can use one 28-ounce cans of high quality whole tomatoes, like Cento)

• pasta cooked according to package directions. I recommend short, ridged pasta like penne or rigatoni. I love mezze maniche if you can find it.

• grated pecorino Romano or parmesan (about a cup, or more if you like lots for topping)

Process:

1. Heat olive oil over medium high heat, add chopped onion and sauté until soft. Meanwhile, set a big pot of water to boil (it should have enough salt to taste like seawater).

2. Sprinkle in oregano and red pepper flakes into the cooking onion. The sausages may have enough salt and pepper to flavor the dish, so don’t add those at this point.

3. Add sausage and crumble the meat as it cooks. Once browned, you can add an optional splash of red wine to deglaze the pan and get all the good browned bits into the sauce. Wait for it to cook down before proceeding to the next step.

4. Add the canned tomatoes. Simmer, stirring often until the sauce is flavorful enough to weaken your knees, about twenty minutes. Adjust seasonings if necessary.

5. Once pasta is cooked, drain and toss into the waiting sauce. Toss a handful of the grated cheese into the pasta and stir until the pasta is well-coated with sauce.

6. Serve with extra cheese on top or on the side

Buon Appetito!

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