Sausage Party

Chef had a Hostess wedding cake. I’m not lying. Why would I lie about that? Which part of my brain would I utilize in making that story up out of thin air? It’s not like I’ve had a lot of Hostess cakes in my life. You could count the number of Hostess items I’ve had in my LIFETIME on one hand. I think my mom thought they were the devil’s business, and in retrospect, she was right. I can think of less fattening ways to embalm myself. But the IDEA of a snack cake is just awesome. And the Twinkie character looks like an effing banana, and if anyone wants to tell me otherwise they can stuff it. I guarantee that you could show a picture of that “Twinkie” in a cowboy hat to any foreigner in the world who had never heard of Hostess, and he or she would say “banana!” Actually, first they’d probably say “Leave, white devil.” But I’m fairly confident their next few sentences would include the word “banana.”

The point is that Chef had a Hostess wedding cake. It was basically a wedding cake shape that was covered in Hohos and Dingdongs and Twinkies, and whatever other cute little euphemisms one would find in homosexual male porn, since that appears to be their main source of naming ideas. Not that there’s anything wrong with gay porn. I have a feeling I’d like it more than the regular kind, which I’ve always thought was a little bit tasteless because if I want to watch unattractive people doing it, I’ll just keep a close eye on the extracurricular activities of most senate republicans (motto: it’s okay because it’s YOUR DOG).

So I’m making Twinkies from scratch right now. I’ll post pictures tomorrow. They’re going to be tasty. And they’re made out of a series of “ingredients” rather than an intricate matrix of preservatives and styrofoam products. Good for them.

In other news of things that I could buy in the store but instead elect to make from scratch like a primitive hunter-gatherer with access to ancient Wikipedia, I made sausages yesterday. From scratch. I even ground my own meat, and rinsed my own…casings. This was less distasteful than I thought it would be, and was more like making a condom water balloon than anything anatomy-like. Don’t judge me, you know you’ve made condom water balloons. Liar.

The sausage stuffing motion is really more what one would call a “stroke.” I’m not trying to be dirty or anything, just to point out to you that perhaps 8th grade boys would excel at sausage-mongering. I’m not super sure what I put in my sausage, but I know it had something to do with paprika, cayenne, pork, pork fat, sage, chives, garlic, and onion granules. And salt. And pepper, obviously.

Sausage-making equipment has to be really cold when you grind the meat and stuff the sausages themselves. Like, if you could have the Queen of Narnia touching the pieces to keep them frozen, that’d be super. An ideal sausage-making team would be the Queen of Narnia and an eighth grade boy. Except he’d likely get distracted from the sausages by attempting to have sex with the Queen (her being vaguely female and all). If it’s not cold enough, all the meat kind of coagulates into a pinkish paste, and then you have to say the F-word a whole bunch of times and throw it away and start over. At least, that’s what I did and it worked out well.

Also, when the meat mixture is being stuffed into the casings, pushing the meat-plunger (hahahahahaha!) too fast makes air bubbles (when will this hilarity end?). If you get an air bubble, it’s best to yell at Chris for pushing the plunger too hard. Again, there may be other methods, but this method worked quite well for me. If you do not have a Chris to yell at, you may yell at the 8th grader. The Queen would be a poor choice for receiving your criticism, on account of her ability to turn people to stone.

Eventually, we turned out some solidly delicious sausages. We tossed both rigatoni and penne in a simple marinara, shaved some parmesan over the top, tumbled some sliced sausages over the party, and then fried a piece of homemade sourdough in the sausage drippings. Mmmmmmm. Sausagey deliciousness.

Try not to think bad things about me for using two different kinds of pasta for the starch. You and I both know perfectly well that two people eat exactly two-thirds of a box of pasta. Meaning that at any given time I have 14 boxes that are one-third full of pasta. This isn’t enough to do anything but sit in the pantry and openly mock me. But then if I throw it away, I feel all guilty for the starving children in Milan who can barely afford their Gucci handbags, let alone dried pasta. So occasionally we have mixed-race pasta, and I’m okay with that. I’d suggest you become more forward thinking.

14 thoughts on “Sausage Party”

  1. I forgot to put on my reply to your comment that I did end up buying a whole basket of Farm to Work food (because I thought you’d be up here). Basically I was going to give you some random vegetables since you say you can’t ever find the farm fresh variety.

    So yes, I will still give them to you when I see you on Saturday. You’ll probably end up with quite a bit of Collard Greens, some beets, radishes, cilantro, and half of a small cabbage. maybe an onion or two as well.

    You, too, can make your very own borscht.

  2. I’ve been interested in making sausage, myself. I have a meat grinder, I just don’t have a tube attachment thingy that would allow me to put the meat into the casing. My grinder is a cast iron, hand-cranked monster, so I’m not sure the motorized accessories would work for me. Did you use real casings or artificial?

  3. I want that sausage in my mouth. Serious. I need to get that meat grindey and pushey attachment for my Kitchenaid.

    By the way, I do the mixed race pasta all the time, and I feel no shame about it.

  4. I’m excited for my farm basket. And thanks so much for the offer, Kristen. Turns out Willie’s doggie daycare doesn’t have room, so we’re going to just sleep down here and drive up in the morning. Plus then I won’t be tempted to wine and dine myself…

    Oh, and the casings were natural.

  5. Totally understand about the no wine and dine but if you change your mind and don’t feel like driving an hour plus BEFORE you have to start running for 26.2 miles at at o’dark thirty, we’ve got rooms and a yard and the three of you are always welcome.

  6. Woot! Way to go on the sausage making. Isn’t it seriously fun and a little bit raunchy all at the same time?! Particularly when you ease the wet casing-condom onto the stuffer attachment with that little wrist-flick that you totally picked up somewhere else, or when you’re ‘guiding’ the sausage out ever so gently, with the 4oz of pressure if you know what I mean. Awesome.

    We’re working our way through the pork and beef sausages that we made, and now I totally want to get on the hot-wing-chicken sausages, which I know you’ve eaten before. What were they like? I’m guessing that they didn’t have chunks of blue in there, knowing about your aversion….

    Also: I am seriously excited about seeing your homemade twinkies. Like, ridiculously so. I canna wait.

  7. Those are some good looking sausages!

    I’ve got all the equipment, but alas, like Claudia, I have yet to make sausage.

    So my casings sit in the fridge – mocking me. :-)

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