The Sacred Art of Sausage

Hullo there ma wee blog.

Good Morning, what an absolute stoater of a day! Clear blue skies and the gentlest of breezes barely stirring the leaves of the apple trees at the back of the house. A complete change from the rainy, grey and windy day that was yesterday.

The lovely G has been chauffeured to the local station and departed in a work wise direction. I made and packed her lunchtime sandwich and a yogurt before we left slightly late which made the journey with its challenges of slow moving lorries and the harvesting farm machinery a mild 10 minute challenge, enough to make sure I was fully awake and not on auto pilot as I can be sometimes. The return journey was more leisurely and gave me time to appreciate what a great morning it is.

The cats have been fed and stroked and have now abandoned me for the garden, Jess harnessed to the anchor of the closest apple tree { see previous posts }. I walked her out barefoot, the cold and slightly damp grass - I wouldn't dignify it by calling it a lawn, which is more an English expression any way - was beautifully soft underfoot thanks to the mosses, to such an extent that it felt like THE most luxurious foot massage and caused me to pad smilingly and almost purring, around the rest of the garden for several contented minutes before coming back to my usual place at the kitchen table and the first dense, delicious coffee of the day.

And so now, my day ahead organised - I have to be at Edinburgh airport later to pick up our Dutch friends - and understood, I am patiently waiting for the pair of plump sausages, links, bangers, snags or snorkers - call them whatever you like - which are sitting murmuring, not quite a sizzle anyway , at me from the other side of the kitchen where they have been cooking for the best part of 40 minutes.

Now you might think that 40 minutes to cook a couple of sausages is a long time, but trust me, I know what I am doing here. The perfect sausage takes some time to do properly and, as they should be a - fairly - rare treat { this mornings guilty pleasure} that its got to be worth getting them as near perfect as possible.

Vegetarian readers should perhaps look away now as they say , or at least skip the next couple of paragraphs which may be unpleasantly graphic for you......

Firstly they are pork, not that beef is out of the question but pork is just a bit better I think. Secondly they are the right size, neither large enough to make you feel bloated and like you really shouldn't have eaten that first thing, or so small that cooking them is going to leave them dry, dusty and disappointing in the mouth or having gone to all that effort that you are still hungry. Decision time therefore - is it two or is it four?

Next, they are the right pork sausage, with a high meat content and not a miserly amount of poor quality meat padded out with rusk and God knows what else, and they are bright, glistening and packed tightly in their skins, not flopping sadly at the bottom of a pack. There is enough fat content to ensure that carefully slow cooked they are going to come from the pan moist and unctuous, tender and toothsome and with the critically important sticky chewable crust from prolonged contact with hot metal. They have been carefully lifted into a pan prepared with the absolute minimum of oil, not butter for this as the long cooking will cause it to burn and become bitter, but a nice neutral oil. Lets say sunflower as its whats to hand here in the kitchen. Again I ignore the olive oil as that too is too flavoured and I don't want anything to detract from the taste of the main event.

I don't think you should ever prick a sausage either. Leave it alone for goodness sake. In time the skin will split naturally or at the very least any excess juices will find their own way out and the fat will run free into the pan leaving the finished article hot and succulent, neither soggy or dry but with just the right amount of resistance when you bite in.

Finally take them from the pan and leave somewhere hot for just a moment or two while you get the rest of your breakfast together. This morning its just a scots morning roll, light and pale and dusted with flour. Oh, and a cup of tea. Serve them after a cooling moment - tongue juggling a mouth full blistering hot sausage is no fun and doesn't do the flavour any justice.

I intend to eat mine slowly and reflectively at the patio table in the garden.

While I have been speaking to you they have finished cooking. So, got to go as I don't want them to be past it after all that effort and the garden is calling with the promise of another foot massage...

see you later...........

Listening to Queen, 'Its a kind of magic' Seems appropriate!