You would be forgiven for thinking that all sausages are alike. Round. As in roughly cylindrical. Ok, there are individual variations on the theme – the skinny pink chipolata; the thicker, and disturbingly flecked, Cumberland sausage; the massively-dimensioned and curvilinear heft of the boerewors. These differences do not detract from the unifying form. Not for nothing is the term “sausage-shaped” in common use and widely understood.
So, like I say, you would be forgiven for thinking that all sausages are alike. But you would be wrong.
In Scotland the sausages are flat and square.
When I first came across this, um, delicacy, I was told it was “lawn sausage”. What a peculiar name, I thought. I supposed it referred to, er, the squareness and flatness of grass-covered gardens. The word is actually “Lorne”, as in Lorne sausages. But assumptions that they hail from Lorne are, apparently, incorrect.
The cooking instructions advised “blotting” the sausage with a piece of kitchen towel to remove excess fat before serving. With a 20% fat content that requires most of a roll of kitchen towel to mop up and doesn’t leave much actually to eat. It didn’t go down well with the assembled masses (apart from Maizy) but the black pudding was a hit, rather to my surprise.
The title refers to Hutton’s Unconformity, past which we walked all unknowingly. Here is our palatial accommodation guarded by our faithful hound:
More pictures (mainly of the boys, invisible to those not “friend”s on flickr) here.