After the failure of my first marriage, I didn't think I ever wanted to be in love again. It was just me and my son and, honestly, I liked it that way. But, like every other man, I didn't want to spend the rest of my life alone, either.

Then I met Karen. And the world changed for the better.

Still, the thought of entering the dating game again, after twenty-something years, was frightening. Karen made it easy. She liked the same things I liked. She didn't care if I spent a whole lot of money. And for her, a great evening involved a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a walk in the woods.

For the past six years I've cooked for Karen. In fact, now that we're married, I do almost all the cooking. Of course, she has her favorites, including this recipe.

We discovered Bianca Verde (which means, literally, green and white) at a little Italian restaurant in Oklahoma City. Tommy's was small, had live jazz on Friday nights, and a seriously good chef. The first time we went, it was an accident. After that, we came back as regulars. And Karen always ordered Bianca Verde.

Consequently, it didn't take long before she said, "Hey, you should try cooking this at home." No problem. Three years later, I figured the recipe out.

But solving that particular culinary riddle took a scandalous meeting with a chef-turned-waiter at a rival Oklahoma City restaurant, a stolen recipe scribbled down on an order form, a pledge of secrecy, and some covert activity that, even today, I'm not allowed to talk about.

It was worth it.

Once I discovered the secret — and don't let anyone kid you, the secret to a good Italian Alfredo sauce is the same as the secret to good country gravy — Karen was in heaven.

Now, for the record: Know that I don't begin to call myself an Italian chef. In fact, I'm not a chef, I'm a newspaper reporter. But my wife, kids, friends, and family will tell you I'm a damm good cook. Still, you'd think a guy who claims to know his way around the kitchen wouldn't need three years to decode a recipe. No matter, Bianca Verde is worth the effort.

Ingredients:

• 1 to 2 pounds of Italian sausage (I recommend Lavera's Italian Sausage from Krebs, Oklahoma)
• 2 packages of frozen, (or deli style) spinach tortellini
• 10 ounces (1 can) of sliced, black olives
• 10 ounces of chopped, sun-dried tomatoes
• 1 cup of diced prosciutto
• 2 1/2 cups of heavy cream
• 3 tablespoons of unsalted butter
• About 6 ounces of Parmesan cheese
• Good, extra virgin olive oil
• Six cups of water
• Salt
• White pepper
  

Directions:

1. Trim the casing off the sausage and slice the sausage into small medallions, about 1/2-inch thick.
2. Drizzle a small amount of olive oil into your favorite deep (make sure it's deep, you'll need the space) skillet; cook the sausage on medium heat.
3. While the sausage is cooking, bring six cups of water to a boil. Once you have a rolling boil, add the tortellini and cook to the package directions - usually about 6 to 8 minutes.
4. At the same time, continue cooking sausage until it's light brown.
5. After the sausage has cooked about 4 minutes, add the sliced olives and cook until tender, 1 to 2 minutes more.
6. Slowly add the diced prosciutto and cook another 2 minutes until prosciutto and sausage are about the same color.
7. Remove skillet from heat.
8. Carefully drain off most (but not all) of the grease - but leave sausage, olives, and prosciutto in the pan.
9. Return pan to heat, add cream, butter, and cheese.
10. Cook at medium heat for 2 to 3 minutes, stirring, then reduce heat to low until Alfredo sauce is properly thickened. (To test, dip a metal spoon into your sauce. If the sauce coats the back of the spoon, you're in business).
11. Once the Alfredo sauce has thickened, remove it from heat and set aside.
12. Remove pasta from heat and drain; but leave pasta in the pot.
13. Pour Alfredo sauce, sausage, olives, prosciutto mixture over tortellini.
14. Toss in sun-dried tomatoes and season to taste with white pepper and salt.