Sausages. Apparently, they’re not a superfood. If you are yet to read this newly emerged scholarship, do prepare for a shock. Ready? Seven out of eight sausages interviewed by the food police admitted they contained a lot of salt. (Clearly, that kransky was lying.)
Oh, one mustn’t be a cynic. It will sometimes be the work of science to confirm what we already know. It’s not as though science just gets peckish one day and says, “I know. I’ll ‘test’ out a kilo of franks.” No. Science demands only rigour and doubt. It never asks for tomato sauce. Neither do I, actually. I’d only have to put it on a snag.
In a second great jolt comes this truth: some people don’t enjoy snags. I am one of them and I have asked science how this could possibly be the case. I am very fond of salt; fat and I have been dating regularly for years now. I am partial to cheap foods, easy foods and foods that are an amusing shape. But I shouldn’t miss the common pork sausage if it were shot from our polling booths to space.
Look. Let’s talk about our plans to end all these “sausage sizzles” and replace them with something tasty and functionally Australian. I first suggest the “ banh mi bench”. It’s delicious, it’s not a sausage and it’s a place to practice protein inclusiveness. Imagine! Pork for the scoundrel. Squid for the pescatarian. Seared tofu for the utterly vegan, and our sincere apologies to the gluten intolerant. You’ll have to eat this bread-like brick until history produces that compassionate and talented baker who will deliver you from the pain of never truly knowing Vietnam’s greatest protest to the French invaders. (Oui. I’m going there, pâtissier. That nation eventually got you beat.)
Other things that do not involve mean little pork sausages, whose sassy skins retain the ghost of all the other sausages previously cooked on that filthy rental grill, may include the “falafel facility”. We’ll fine-tune the clumsy name later. But, think in this moment of a truly diplomatic snack whose star, the chickpea un-meatball, can satisfy the carnivore just as it pleases the vego.
What do you say to banh mi at Bunnings? Source: Flickr
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How do you falafel?
Noodles. Why does a nation so rich in noodles turn to the poverty of the snag? Welcome to the, um, “noodle nook”. Our FODMAP friends need have no fear of intestinal distress when there are soba noodles or rice noodles or, probably, quinoa noodles made by our noodle elite. When we come together as community, do we want a wide choice of fresh garnish to signify our difference and a noodle to pay homage to our unity? Yes. Of course we do.
What we do not want from a world of ingenuity and flavour is a snag that wilts and dies in a cottonwool bun. What we do not truly want is singed onions that no longer taste like onions but suggest only the ghost of a brutalised, long-ago chive.
Noodles. Why does a nation so rich in noodles turn to the poverty of the snag? Welcome to the, um, “noodle nook”.
We understand that there are those who believe the plain pork sausage to be a symbol of Australian democracy. We urge these persons to see that sundry minced animal parts hidden in a mystery skin is not the best expression of the open, plain-talking culture in which we seek to live. There is an argument to be made, of course, that a supermarket sausage crammed with dodgy secrets is a faithful representation of parliamentary politics. But, comrades. This new national, portable dish can help us draw plans for utopia.
We will defeat them at the fundraiser. We will end them in the Bunnings carpark. We will be brave and tell the girl scouts what’s inside those pillows from the past. And on election days, we will vote with our face holes for a more succulent tomorrow.
And, you know. We could probably do with cutting down the salt.
Helen Razer is your frugal food enthusiast, guiding you to the good eats, minus the pretension and price tag in her weekly Friday column, Cheap Tart. Don't miss her next instalment, follow her on Twitter @HelenRazer.
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