(My rant about Americans and lunch drinking is coming one of these days. For now, I'll just say that wine with lunch is one of the great pleasures of life, and if you don't appreciate it, you depress me. And that your Frappucinos and sodas are going to kill you a lot faster anyway.)
The onions were genius. They actually started yesterday as a precursor to French onion soup. But they smelled so fabulous as they were caramelizing, I couldn't bear to add anything to them. So instead I smeared heaps of onion confit onto slices of bread with dinner, and couldn't wait to use the remainder today.
Quick digression: if you want to make your own onion deliciousness, I made it by melting 3T butter in a large dutch oven, then adding two pounds of onions, sliced 1/4" thick or so. Specificity in slicing doesn't really matter, just the time and heat level. Lots of time, very little heat. Stir every 15 minutes, less towards the beginning, more towards the end. For 2-4 hours. Or you can even stop sooner, if you like the way things smell and it's reduced to a spreadable consistency.
Anyway. I woke up thinking about these onions. They're that delicious. I vaguely thought, in my half-awake daze, that they might be amazing with pasta. Then this afternoon, I was picking up my newly-sharpened knives from the local butcher (this is not nearly as virtuous as it sounds: this is the first time, ever, I've had them sharpened), and couldn't resist grabbing some andouille sausage, too.
Like the lazy food blogger that I am, I actually tossed the sausage into the boiling water while the pasta cooked, then pan-fried it in a little butter to get a little browning. I then tossed in the cooked pasta, a little pasta water, and the leftover onion confit, and mixed everything for a few minutes. It was the perfect meal for an overcast, ridiculously foggy day.
Oh, and the persimmons? So fabulous. They'll get their own post someday soon, too.
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