Sweet, sweet Italy

I (heart) summer.

I had a craving last week when deciding what to throw on the grill for Labor Day: a sandwich with sweet Italian sausage, tomato sauce, and mozzarella. I set about achieving this dream Sunday afternoon, preparing a simple marinara sauce with sliced garlic sauteed in olive oil, peeled tomatoes, and basil. I let it cook down for a while, then put it in a blender, then added salt and pepper. I left in the seeds, which get blended to a pulp anyway. No tomato paste, no onion: I wanted the acid of the tomato to contrast with the sausage.

On Monday, following a less-than-stellar performance in the Franklin Classic 10k (I'll spare you the sob story, but DH ran much better), I lazed about until early evening, when I just couldn't stand it any more. The husband manned the grill. I was lucky enough to find these at Publix:

Precooked, yes, but damn delicious.

Actually, they were the only sweet Italian sausage on offer that did not contain chicken.

The bread was from the freezer: more of that Silke's stuff from Mitchell Deli. This is the sandwich-making bread against all others should be measured. Split it, slather some hot marinara on both sides, add a few generous slices of fresh mozzarella, and add the meat. Oh, golly, that's good. Served with grilled asparagus and an Oregon Pinot (Portland, here we come!).

Stupid digital camera and your washed-out colors. Perhaps I have dropped you too much?

In spite of my power-T-shaped peanut butter cookies, the Vols opened up their season in depressing fashion. Nevertheless, I'll still be showing off T-shaped fare in the future.