this little piggie
growing up in a traditional italian household meant that the dinner table was always loaded with homemade sausages, capicollos, proscuittos, and practically any other meat you can imagine. when i was fourteen, instead of going out with friends, my weekends were begrudgingly spent making sausages with my dad and any other family members/friends he roped in. (there were precious few who could turn down offers of homemade wine…)
so, when charcuterie became popular i was taken aback… cause, really, what’s so cool about cured meats?
seeing as the fad took over the toronto foodie scene awhile ago, and hasn’t budged a bit since, a LOT.
i guess knowing how to make sausages is, like, cool now?
does this mean my dad is also cool now? the angst-ridden fourteen year old girl inside of me is in a state of shock.
thought i’d give you a tour of the meat factory that is my dad’s garage. i spent last saturday here, elbow deep in pork and deer meat… i left with a supply of sausages that will see me through this harsh canadian winter.
vegetarian friends, i apologize for the meatiness of the following. (i was a vegetarian for a year in high school. didn’t go over well with the fam. there was many a plot i thwarted by siblings and cousins who tried to sneak meat into my food. after finding a slice of pepperoni hiding between the cheese and crust of my pizza for the fifth time, i realized i could never leave my dinners alone again.)
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