I don’t often make savory dishes, but, as many people who know me in real life know, I love sausage. So when I got a hold of two large sausages, I recalled a recipe I had seen on TV for sausage rolls, and I decided to make it.
But sausage, encased in puff pastry? That just seems so… British.
To spit or to swallow? That is the question.
Ann mulled it over, weighing her two options. She’d better decide quickly, since what was in her mouth was now starting to drip down her throat. The juice, full of life and vibrancy, was swished around her mouth and now needed a final destination. It sat in her mouth, awaiting her verdict. Would it be shot out of her mouth, or gulped down her throat?
Spitting would be somewhat safer. She could experience the taste of it in her mouth, without having it actually go down her throat. The best of both worlds: the taste, without the guilt of swallowing.
On the other hand, would the oral experience be complete without swallowing? She could swish it around her mouth until the end of time, but it still wouldn’t be the same without feeling it going actually down her throat, the liquid coating her throat as it goes down into the far reaches of her stomach.
The time had come to make a decision. She went with her first impulse: spit. She leaned over the spittoon and spit out the merlot she had been swishing around in her mouth. Now she didn’t have to be drunk.
After they had finished their wine tasting, Ann took John by the arm and walked out of the winery. It was an overcast day in March, chilly but not unbearably so. She couldn’t wait to get back to their warm apartment, where she could cuddle with him on the couch next to the fire.
As they drove back towards London, Ann’s thoughts drifted to her man, sitting next to her, driving the sedan. They had met at the grocery store where she worked. She was an inventory manager, and he just happened to be at the store to pick up some sausage for his company potluck. Chatting about sausage somehow led to chatting about everything else in their lives, and soon they were madly in love, spending almost every free moment they had together.
Now they lived together in a posh two-bedroom apartment, jetting off to fine dining and wineries whenever the desire struck them. His job as an investment manager paid them well, enabling them to indulge their gastronomic impulses. Their trip to the winery was just such an impulse, Ann having a sudden oenophilic urge that morning.
The afternoon was wonderful, but now Ann turned her thoughts to dinner. What would she make? She couldn’t remember what she had in the fridge, but she did remember she had bought a pack of puff pastry the other day and stashed it in the freezer, thinking that she could use it in some delightful, buttery concoction. She loved the way the pastry puffed up when she baked it, wrapping anything in a warm, pillowy crust she didn’t even have to roll.
Upon reaching her fridge, she opened it, the light inside flickering on to reveal a pack of sausages from the market. She had bought them yesterday, reminded of their first encounter together. They were glistening on the refrigerator shelf, tubes of juicy goodness beckoning to her like fingers from an outstretched hand. She knew she had to have this sausage in her mouth.
But the wine and the sight of the sausage had brought out her primal urges. She and John hadn’t made love in three days, and that desire needed to be satisfied. Luckily, John, being a man, was thinking exactly the same thing, as they whisked themselves off to the bedroom, their tongues twisted together like serpents coiling around a staff.
John threw Ann onto the bed, a lion hauling his prey into his den. They stripped their clothes off faster than an excited child could unwrap a present at Christmas, and their naked bodies provided just enough warmth that they didn’t feel cold even in their unheated apartment. Hands were groping below the waist, fluids starting to trickle out slowly.
Things were getting hot, and Ann thrust John’s penis straight into her mouth. She could feel it throbbing between her lips, which were curled around her teeth, as any lady knew to do when fellating a man. She loved the salty taste of cock in her mouth. She could feel his pulse through his member, as his moans began to grow louder and louder.
Soon, John was thrusting his hips lightly against Ann’s mouth. He could feel his juices welling up from within. Ann, with his fat manhood in her mouth, was in a strange state of bliss. Her warm, soft mouth enveloping his large, rigid penis created a sensation that she could nowhere else experience. She cupped his scrotum lightly, tugging on it just enough that he could feel it without being hurt by it. She could hear his pleasure growing audibly, and she grew ever more joyous from the bliss she was giving him. The knowledge itself of his gratification was enough to fill her heart.
Ann could sense he was getting close. His moans were growing louder, his thrusts more urgent. She took her tongue and circled the head of his penis, covering every inch of it with her saliva. His penis soon surged, as he let out a primal moan right before he released a giant flood of semen into her mouth. He pulsated inside of her mouth as he unloaded spurt after spurt of his juices into her. He withdrew his penis from her mouth, as he collapsed on the bed in a heap of contentment.
Now here she was, her mouth full of semen. She was faced with the same dilemma she had earlier: spit, or swallow? She didn’t particularly like the taste of semen. But she didn’t want to just spit it out, as if she were rejecting a part of him. She had spit out the wine earlier, so shouldn’t she logically swallow now? She hadn’t swallowed yet today. And so down her throat went John’s semen. That familiar smell of bleach that always came with swallowing. Thankfully, he had been drinking wine and eating fruit, so the taste was also pleasantly sweet. Not like when he insists on eating asparagus.
Their sexual play over, Ann got up to go to the bathroom. She washed out her mouth and splashed water on her face before strolling into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Her eyes were transfixed on the sausage in the fridge. Even though she had just had her man’s sausage in her mouth, she still had an insatiable desire for that sausage in the fridge. She knew that she must use that sausage somehow in tonight’s dinner.
Ann got the puff pastry out of the freezer and set it on the counter to defrost a bit. She unwrapped the sausage and cut it into bite-size pieces. She then rolled up each piece of sausage in a sheet of puff pastry, sealing it with some egg wash. She laid the sausage rolls on a baking sheet, brushing each one with more egg wash on the outside, and put them into the hot oven. Twenty minutes later, they were done. The smell of butter permeated the apartment, and she could not resist picking up one of the hot sausage rolls and popping it in her mouth. The saltiness of the sausage with the rich, buttery puff pastry was divine.
It was a great day. Everything she had put into her mouth today was amazing.
It’s such a simple idea, putting sausage into puff pastry. And yet it’s so delicious. The amounts for this recipe are very approximate, because really it’s just putting sausages into puff pastry.
Sausage Rolls
about 1 pound of puff pastry
about 1 pound of sausage
one egg, beaten
- Preheat oven to 400F.
- Cut up the sausage into bite-size pieces.
- Cut the puff pastry into triangles, large enough to encase the sausage pieces.
- Roll the sausage up in the puff pastry triangles, and seal the end of the pastry with egg wash.
- Brush the outside of each roll with egg wash.
- Bake the sausage rolls for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the pastry is golden brown.
The big sausage I got. I cut these into 16 pieces total.
The sheets of puff pastry, which I cut into triangles.
Here are the sausage rolls, brushed with egg wash on the outside.
After 20 minutes in the oven, they’re done.
The egg wash makes the surface nice and glossy.
I love the combination of the buttery puff pastry with the salty, savory sausage. Then again, I could really eat sausage with anything. But buttery pastry makes it even better.