Lincolnshire Style Sausages

 

On a trip to the East Midlands of England a few years ago I fell in love. No, Phil has nothing to worry about. The new object of my affection was a plate of sausages and mash, more specifically sausages and mash when it is made with Lincolnshire sausage. The sage and pork all browned and juicy with the creamiest potatoes, those lovely caramelized onions in gravy sometimes with wine or ale. There really is nothing else like it in the world. A fact I became painfully aware of upon returning home to the New York and ordering a plate at my local pub only to be served something on par with a dirty water dog. That was when the longing began. I searched high and low for something similar, but always came away disappointed and dejected.

Last year on our way to Italy we were scheduled for a long layover at Heathrow. Most would look upon an extended layover in a negative light, I however chose to look at it as an opportunity. You see, our layover was long enough for us to nip out for a plate of sausages and mash, hopefully one made with the illustrious Lincolnshire sausages. I honestly think I was more excited for that plate than I was about getting to Italy and thought about my grand plan for weeks ahead of time. There was one thing I hadn’t counted on; an overcrowded runway in a disorganized airport leading to our flight being delayed. Our layover turned into a quick stop that served only to increase my Lincolnshire longing.

After moving back to Seattle I found several specialty sausage makers all claiming to have “English style” sausages. While many of them were delicious,  none came close to the delights I had experienced in England. It’s been nearly four years and I had had enough. It was time I took matters into my own hands and make my own. So I went out in search of the meat grinder and sausage stuffer attachment to my Kitchen Aide, something easier said than done. I visited more kitchen shops than I can recall, most people cutting me off before I could finish my query. Finally I headed to Williams Sonoma without much hope only to be pleasantly surprised.

The next task was to find natural sausage casing, which according to the Lincolnshire Sausage Association is the only acceptable material for stuffing a sausage. That was a task more difficult than the Kitchen Aide attachments. I called all of my local sausage makers thinking someone would be able to help me, but either they were unwilling to help or used collagen casings. After almost giving up, I was referred to Fero’s Meats in Pike Place Market, which just so happens to be my butcher. Mr Fero was not around when I visited, but the man in glasses was a font of knowledge. He gave me tips, the names of a good sausage making book and website and made sure I knew to store the casings in salted water when I returned home.

I ground, mixed, stuffed and twisted, occasionally watched a clump of sausage meat go flying across my kitchen. All that was left was for Phil to come home and sample my sausages with mashed potatoes, red wine and caramelized onion gravy and peas. In the end it was a smashing success.

Now I want to be clear, the sausages I am made are not Lincolnshire sausages, but Lincolnshire style sausages. I am only attempting to emulate greatness and as I am not in or from Lincolnshire I cannot claim their name. If I did, I believe the Lincolnshire Sausage Association would have a thing or two to say about it, not to mention I think the EU has rules about that sort of thing. I have also not gotten too fancy with the spices and just followed the guidelines set down by the    Lincolnshire Sausage Association. Additional spices are acceptable, but I thought this first time out I wouldn’t mess with success.

After this foray into the world of sausage, I am in even more awe of the butcher’s craft than I ever was. I hope many of you are inspired to make your own sausages and to visit your local butchers shop*. While butchers seem to be experiencing a revival here in the U.S., I understand in the UK they are in danger of dying out and with them the wonderful Lincolnshire sausage. Please support your local butcher.

Since this is a special post for me, I have asked my dear friend Leslie to share with us her ex-pat perspective on adjusting to food and life in the East Midlands. She and her husband are actually responsible for my introduction Lincolnshire sausage at the Victoria Inn in Beeston . I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did.

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Sausage

Stanley Kubrick and I have another thing in common:  We are (were?) both Americans transplanted to the land of the Cumberland, Suffolk, and my favorite, the Lincoln sausage– just to name a few.  When I first arrived on these distant shores nearly five years ago the very sight of these British staples had me running for the hills.  Why are they so big and what are those specky bits?  I admit that at times I can be, like a petulant child, somewhat slow to try new things.  I was brought up in a house where the only sausage was a Jimmy Dean, while in my twenties eventually graduating to a spicy Polish sausage on a stadium roll, with grilled onions and cream cheese, while stumbling out of the clubs of Seattle’s Pioneer Square.  The age-old cliches surrounding the inedibility of British cuisine, compounded by my dad’s retelling of his experience growing up with an English mother and her food, and my grandpa, more than sixty years on, still lamenting the warm beer served to him while he was a GI in London, did nothing to assuage my fears.  To make things worse, my English husband’s diet, before I civilized him, consisted of as many things as he could think of to put on toast as possible, from the admittedly tasty cheese, to the still baffling spaghetti. 

Oh, how I longed for the familiar in those early days. All of that being said, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that British food has made leaps and bounds since the time of my grandmother, and while I still struggle to find a decent cheeseburger, long gone are the days when the British believed pasta grew on trees (thanks to a BBC prank in the 50s).  The UK is now home to world renowned chefs and their restaurants, and even if you’re not going to spring for the tasting menu at Heston Blumenthal’s Fat Duck, it is still likely you’ll be able to sate yourself with quality fare at your favorite local pub.

Erin asked me if I would describe how I eventually came to love the sausage; I’ve racked my brain, and I don’t think my evolution came with an epiphany moment, but rather just a gradual erosion of my initial fears and apprehensions stemming from a severe case of homesickness.  As of now,  I still refuse to spell color with a ‘u,’ my daughter when she is old enough to talk, will call me mom, not “mum,” and I still strongly object to the skin being left on my order of fish and chips, but, as time has gone by, I have definitely found myself softening to my new surroundings, and these days, not only am I calling pants “trousers,” but one of my favorite treats is plate of sausage and mash and a pint of bitter.  Whether I’ve prepared it myself or I’m eating it tucked away in a corner of an old, atmospheric pub, it is a combination that is hard to beat, particularly for comfort value on an characteristically cold, gray British day.  I’ve experimented with a few different recipes recently, seeing if I could somehow improve upon perfection, but as I should have already known, uncomplicated is always best.  In my humble opinion, nothing can top simply roasting your sausages, piling them on a plate of creamy mashed potatoes and finishing it all with a rich, roasted onion or red wine gravy.

In the near future, the day will come when I will once again swap Old Blighty for the Emerald City, and I’ve decided the things I will miss the most will undoubtedly be the beer, the traditional pubs with their heavy drapery and ale soaked carpets, the cheese, and of course, the venerable sausage.  Fortunately, we’ll have copious amounts of espresso and Erin’s recipe for the divine and herby Lincoln sausage to lift my husband and me from any sort of melancholy that might result.

Lincolnshire Style Sausage

1 lb Pork Belly, cubed

3 lbs Lean-ish Pork Shoulder, cubed

1 1/2 cup Breadcrumbs

1 Large Onion, diced, slowly browned and cooled

2 TBS Sage Leaves, chopped finely

2 tsp Freshly Ground Pepper

2 tsp Sel de Mer or Kosher Salt

Natural casing, be sure to tell you butcher how much you plan to make, he or she will give you the proper amount.

Grind the pork into a large bowl according to the manufacturers instructions, using the coarsest setting. Add the other ingredients and combine using your hands. Stuff your sausages using a sausage stuffer, twisting the casing every so often to form individual sausages. Cook, refrigerate or freeze.

Makes about 20-40 sausages depending on their size.

Notes: When beginning your first sausage in the link, do not tie off the end of your casing until the first sausage has been formed and the opposite end twisted. Pinch it between two fingers, this will allow you to let out any air bubbles that form, I found the first one in the link is always a bit more prone to air bubbles. Make sure you leave enough casing free so you will be able to tie it off.

Be careful not to allow the casing to slide off the horn too quickly, this will lead to air bubbles, misshapen sausages and only partial fills. I held it on the horn and only released a little at a time. It takes a little coordination to do, but if you need help, recruit an assistant, to push the sausage through the stuffer while you control the link. My assistant was in Virginia Beach, so I had to get pretty fancy.

*Many are intimidated by butcher shops and assume they must be more expensive. In most cases this is entirely untrue. I have found that prices range from comparable to less expensive than grocery stores and with better quality. For novice and experienced cooks alike your butcher is your best resource for sage advice. I never visit my butcher without discussing my dinner plans, they always have an opinion on the matter.