Call me old fashioned, but in my thirty years on this planet, I've never cooked a hard-boiled egg. Well, there's not much to it. Four eggs, brought to a boil. Then you take them off the heat and keep them covered for about twelve minutes. Is this also how they make deviled eggs? I have no idea.
So you take a pound of ground pork sausage. A tube of Jimmy Dean was my sausage of choice. The recipe calls for Worcestershire sauce, but we didn't have any of that laying around. Instead, I mixed the sausage with horseradish sauce and a tablespoon of flour. I think the flour keeps it together, sort of how Ms. Garrett kept the girls together on Facts of Life. Anyway, this is what the concoction looks like after being mixed.
To say that I didn't know what I was doing would be an understatement. I had to peel the eggs? Are you kidding me? How does that work? Well, bit by bit, I peeled the four eggs as I'm sure thousands of housewives have done before me. You'll also notice the bowl with a beaten egg in it. This comes into play later. If you have keen eyes, you'll also see a bottle of Citrucel in the background. It helps firm up my poop. I've had some issues as of late. I swear by that stuff.
So when the sausage is thoroughly mixed together, you press it out flat. I cut it into fourths to accommodate my four eggs. You sort of roll the egg in the sausage and pack it all around the egg. Yes, they look like bovine testicles. Again, "delicacy". When you have the balls complete, you dip them in the beaten egg from above, and then cover them in breadcrumbs.
At this point, a good Brit would set them in a deep fat fryer for five minutes until golden brown, and then throw them in the oven for an additional ten minutes. Well, we don't have a deep fat fryer, and we have something we like to call standards. With the balls dipped and crumbed, I put them on a baking sheet and threw them in the oven for about 20 minutes. Knowing that there was no turning back, I used that time to make a few minor adjustments to my will and took the child porn out to the dumpster so as not to embarrass my family in the unfortunate event of my passing. When they were finished, they were a little difficult to cut. They weren't as sturdy as I would have hoped, but the effect was the same. I'm sure they tasted just as they should have. We made a couple waffles to go with them in an attempt at the underrated breakfast for dinner. Here's the end result:
And this is what was left after pawning some off on the Governor and our neighbors:
So, what did the wife and I learn in this endeavor? Well, they were much better than I had anticipated. I mean, really, its eggs and sausage. How could you go wrong. Definitely glad we didn't attempt to fry them. That would have been unholy. I guess I'd eat a fried one if I was dining with the Queen, or if I could have someone else go through the hassle of making them. Even the wife said she'd cook them again if we were having company over. Better yet is that I washed them down with a glass of Glenfiddich. What is with all this Scotch nonsense? You'd think I was Billy Boyd or something. What about Beecake?
So, what did the wife and I learn in this endeavor? Well, they were much better than I had anticipated. I mean, really, its eggs and sausage. How could you go wrong. Definitely glad we didn't attempt to fry them. That would have been unholy. I guess I'd eat a fried one if I was dining with the Queen, or if I could have someone else go through the hassle of making them. Even the wife said she'd cook them again if we were having company over. Better yet is that I washed them down with a glass of Glenfiddich. What is with all this Scotch nonsense? You'd think I was Billy Boyd or something. What about Beecake?
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