The wurst joke in blogland

This week I have been consulted by the man who advises The Bank of England. 

I was shopping in the supermarket when he called.  I told him I was busy right then, but I would call him back. I needed to focus completely on his problem and I was being distracted by the bewildering choice of sausages on offer.  You might think that a sausage is a sausage, but if you read Cro's latest post on the subject, you would know that it is not as simple as that. Very few things are.

Linda McCartney was one of the first to realise that sausages are the easiest type of article to stuff with anything suitably flavourless and kid yourself they are made of meat, although I just cannot understand why so many vegetarians want their meals to mimic animal products. It is all down to the seasoning. Salt, pepper and whatever herbs are used to make a typical regional sausage. Texture is more difficult than flavour.

Most cooks believe - as I do - that a good sausage must contain just the right ratio of fat to meat. Low fat sausages are no use to anyone (except Frenchmen) unless the meat is ground to a paste before stuffing, as they do with kebabs. The skins are less important. I would not go as far as the Germans though, who produce a sausage made entirely of fat. Their blood sausages are not for the faint hearted either. 

Then there is the question of what you want to do with your sausage (quiet, you boys at the back).

I find that cheap but well-produced sausages are far better for casseroles than the large, expensive sort used by posh hotels for designer breakfasts. I have a guilty secret, and that is that I sometimes crave Heinz pork sausages in baked beans. They are so far from a real sausage as to be not even in the same category, unlike Linda McCartney's.

I chose a middle of the range type of banger and went into the car park to return the call of the man who advises The Bank of England. He needs a new stone front doorstep for his house in London.