I made some beef sausage last night. I should have asked or read or followed somebody. I had beef. I had casings. I had the drive.
I wasn’t quite sure what to do with the casings. Brent passed by on his way to pick up Lucy, “Brent,” I say, “what do I do with this shit?” “You soak them,” he says, like he has made sausage. I actually don’t know. Maybe he has made sausage. Hopefully this won’t come up when we’re on The Newlywed Game ( T.V. game show ).
My first sausage:
It was a bit fatter than I was expecting. Things got a little heated and I had to stop. I was doing it wrong. Brent came back in from picking up Lucy from school. “Here’s my sausage!” I say, “I think I did it wrong.” “Stop. I know where you went wrong,” he says in an even tone. Evidently, I needed to roll the intestinal condom on the hoob-a-joob completely, then let the sausage unfold into slinky sausage magic.
I got the hang of it. A bit tough juggling the raw meat, toddler, casing, sausage spooge and glass of wine, but I managed. No toddler was used in the making of this sausage. She screamed and cheered and wondered what the heck I was doing.
We cooked it up for a taste.
It was a bit crumbly at the fat end. I might need to add an egg or something. The skinny end ( we have a nickname for this, but I’ll hold it in ) was not as crumbly.
A little Dijon and it tasted not bad. There is a lot of work ahead arriving at the perfect beef sausage, but this one was edible and almost enjoyable.
Two out of four Curtis children approved. Zélie loved it and wanted more. Though, maybe she would do anything to avoid going to bed. A sausage good enough to delay bedtime.
- Lucy: Mom, I need to give you …. Dad? what’s the friendly word for criticism?
- Brent: Feedback
- Lucy: Mom, I need to give you feedback. It needs sauce.
Otto detested it. He’s sick, so perhaps another go.
- Minty: Mom, I don’t like this sausage.
- Me: Okay, Mint Mint. Don’t eat it. No worries.
- [ sigh ] [ pause ] [ sigh ]
- Mom, what’s for dinner?
- Me: [ inner growl ]