sybaritesauvage   Uncorking a Mind Twisted by Wine, Food, Love & Remembrance

Excepting Vegans, Vegetarians and those of that ilk, does anyone not like sausage?  If you are a true meat lover, keep your filet mignon (which does not have much flavor anyway) and lamb chops.  Sausage is the apotheosis of meat.  OK I’m being slightly hyperbolic, but only slightly.

Newsflash– She-who-needs-no-introduction, the Illustrious and Luminous, Ms. R, claims not to like sausage.  That’s right, no chorizo, kielbasa, andouille, bratwurst, chipolata, linguica, breakfast patty, bangers or knackwurst.  Doesn’t touch the stuff– “Hell to the No!”– as she would say.

I will make allowances for anyone’s dislike of the Scotsman’s Delight, haggis, a boiled sheep’s stomach stuffed with pluck (heart, liver, windpipe and lungs).  Now “pluck” sounds a helluva lot better than its components.  It sounds like food with attitude– and indeed, it takes some pluck to eat haggis, once you know what is contained therein.

I have two personally historic associations with this stuff.  The first was an invitation to a Robert Burns Dinner back in 2001– also known as Robbie Burns Day.  It is tradition to serve haggis with a little drizzle of single malt scotch and copious amounts of single malt in our glasses, all accompanied by the words of Scotland’s farmer-poet.  This is the first and last time I ate haggis. Once I had it, I realized that my ancestral line contains neither a scintilla nor a peppercorn’s worth of a Scot’s blood.  Perhaps I had bad haggis– but is there such a thing as good haggis?  I’m OK with the poetry and the single malt, though.  Especially (surprise!) the latter.

The second association, involves the ex-wife (looky there, some more personal information), who during some intramural Scottish Games in her college days, won a “Haggis Hurl” competition, involving a hammer throw/shot put of a frozen haggis– a story she was fond of recounting.  She was even awarded a silver cup for her hurling triumph.  It is perhaps inevitable that you might ask, “What kind of girl wins a haggis hurl?”  But you might also restrain yourself. 

Back to Ms. R and the salchichas.

Ms. R does not like sausage?  “Haaa!”, says I. 

A message to the Luminous One: What of the pepperoni that you love on your pizza, my Dear?  And then there is that rice that your relations make with those canned nasty bits of amalgamated mystery meat known as Vienna “sausage”.  I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure even the Viennese don’t eat that.  And let’s not forget that you love a good hot dog (no comments from the Peanut Gallery).  And  what of sopressata?  Dried, spicy, fatty goodness.  Are you sure you do not like sausage? 

Putting those examples aside, the most ironic, the most inscrutable is your love of morcilla.  For those not in the know, this is the Puerto Rican Version of blood sausage. 

Now when I was a young Sybarite-Hipster-In-Training (or little SHIT for short), I loved morcilla.  Black goodness with a peppery quality that was heaven-sent.  But then the skies parted, a golden beam of light shone through and I was schooled in the production of this delicacy.  Frankly, it freaked me out.  Some things are best kept out of the public eye– or at least out of the view of young children.  Among these I count Santeria rituals involving animal sacrifice, quirky sexual fetishes, open heart surgery, any episodes of the Criminal Minds TV show involving serial killers, and the production of morcilla.

Having witnessed morcilla making once, I must share my fascination with the process, the preparation of the pig’s blood, the cleansing of the intestines, and the stuffing of the casings.  The most memorable part of it was the smell of pig offal that hung languorously in the hot summer air.  I was traumatized that one of my favorite things to eat was really just the nasty bits and blood of a recently slaughtered hog. 

These days if I have this, it brings me back to that hot Summer day.  And speaking of Summer– today’s NGW.  On a hot, muggy day preparing morcilla, a well-chilled bottle of this Alsatian will provide some welcome relief.  It will provide relief even if all you are doing is reading this post.

Hugel & Fils Classic Pinot Gris 2007 ($15).  Odd little label, but what’s in the bottle?  Never judge a book by its cover.  A softer style of wine with well rounded flavors and floral aromas.  Leaning toward some tropical flavors.   Rated **

And perhaps, just maybe as you drain this nice little wine, and are thinking about that second bottle, nether morcilla nor haggis will be out-of-bounds and the words of Robbie Burns’ Address to a Haggis may begin to resonate in a different way:

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.

Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He’ll mak it whissle;
An’ legs an’ arms, an’ hands will sned,
Like taps o’ trissle.

Ye Pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o’ fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer
Gie her a haggis!

The little guy in the photo at the top of this page doesn’t have a guilty bone in his body.  Neither should you.  No-Guilt Wednesday (NGW) is not about compromising on quality.  It’s all about drinking good wine that does not break the bank ($15 or less), eating good food and of course, it’s about sharing with the ones you love.