About a man and his sausage. . .

Te-hee.

If your mind has regressed to the gutters of an 8th-grade boy's, just join the club. . ..heh heh.

I learned this holiday that I'm not hardly as mature as I'd like to think I am. My mind reeled with Beavis and Butthead-style inappropriateness as my DH embarked on his new hobby of sausage-making.

With help from my FIL, my DH made about 50 pounds of elk sausage. Yup, that's a whole lotta sausage.

They had a lot of fun and were quite ingenious with their "portable smokehouse" design. Here is the magic box itself.

We now have a freezer partially full of jalapeno and kielbasa-flavored elk sausage, with the promise of more elk parts to transform into sausage, jerky, snack sticks, ground meat, etc.

He looks pretty happy with himself, right? Not half as happy as he would have been if he had actually placed our annual UT/A&M football game bet. . . (his team won).

But how does it taste, you might ask? It's pretty darn delicious and much leaner than sausage you buy from the store. Elk is a pretty yummy animal.

I thought I'd be more grossed out by all the casing, etc. but I wasn't. I feel like more of an informed consumer now seeing how big hunks of animal turns into ground meat and links. And, of course, we are now the Numero Uno Neighborhood Hillbillies for butchering and processing an animal in our garage--door open, of course. Fortunately no neighborhood kids got to learn where meat comes from. (I'm sure that would make us really popular. . .)