That's pretty much sums up S.P.'s second experimental sausage installment, featuring a scandalously unique drunken turkey-fig sausage. After a brief argument with some some goat cheese over port wine, this particular Turkey was seen frolicking with some figs before hiding behind a bush of chives. The police round-up is seen below, minus the alleged offender. (The Turkey has some excellent lawyers, and S.P. has a small budget...)
|Ms. Fig, Mr. G. Cheese, and the Brothers Chive, moments before the whole affair took place|
After the initial incident, the other characters commiserated at a bar together. As it happened, Ms. Fig ended up in bed with Mr. Port Wine (his game always picks up at the end of the night). Some grainy surveillance footage is pictured below.
RAUNCHY MATERIAL AHEAD!
SENSITIVE VIEWERS MAY WISH TO SKIP THE NEXT PICTURE
|Upon hearing of her daughter's illicit affair with Mr. P. Wine, Mrs. Fig was heard to exclaim, "I can't believe my baby girl would do this! And after all that money spent on flowering... going and getting he'self mixed up with Port! They was fig flesh and seeds eeeverywhere... Just look at da bubbles!"|
|Mr. P. Wine's mother arrived too late to stop the sticky outcome. As she cast her gaze over the sordid scene she couldn't stop wondering how she would ever explain this at the next Wine Club meeting.|
- 4 lbs.-8 oz. Turkey Thighs
Fruits & Vegetables
- 1lb.-2oz. Fresh Black Figs (24)
- (Reduced with 5 Tbsp. Tawny Port)
- 8 oz. Goat Cheese
- 1 oz. Fresh Chives
- 1.3 Tbsp. Coarse Salt
- 1.5 tsp. Cayenne
- 1/2 tsp. Rubbed Savory
|After One Grind: |
All I can say is, note the fig and hunk of goat cheese
|Between the Grinds|
fine texture :: blended colors
In deference to a particular group of my friends, I should note that the alternate name for this sausage is "Bougie Turkey Sausage." And I shall explain:
On a recent sunny outing to the park, three of us staged an expedition from that chilled delicatessen of delectables: Trader Joe's. After a fevered hunt for the finest in picnic goodies, we met back behind the freeze-dried fruit. My friend, let's call him Ebeneezer, examined the contents of my basket:
Smoked Salmon Pate
Ebeneezer reached for the figs with quizzical distaste. Turning them over in his hand, he said, "I don't eat any of this stuff," and tossed them back.
I, in turn, examined the contents of his basket:
1 pre-made Sietan-"Cheese"-"steak" wrap
I looked at him and said, "Neezie, you sure you're going to a picnic?"
Anyway, the point is that later on, in the park, after swallowing the third dried fig dipped in goat cheese and licking his lips, Ebeneezer grunted contentedly, "mmm. Bougie!"
And perhaps it is. I certainly got the idea for a fig-goat-cheese sausage combo after eating figs with goat cheese, and I suppose it is a bourgeois thing to do. But screw that, the bourgeoisie can't own that. You know what else is bourgeois? Sex. I don't see any of the Ebeneezers out there espousing vows of chastity.