Sausage Party


Usually I’m above competing with my siblings for Dad’s affection. Mainly because he loves us all in different ways, and also because I tricked him into admitting I’m his favorite when he was drunk.

Today is different.

Not only am I going all-out because it’s his birthday, but my article about being a nude model for a night is about to drop. I sincerely fear dying by his hand.

Time for nuclear measures: A bouquet made entirely of sausages!

Despite sounding like a colloquialism for a gaggle of rent boys, a sausage bouquet is an awesome gift. When it comes to Pleasing Your Man*, salty deli meats outdo all of Cosmo’s prostit-tricks. Even the ones that involve salty deli meats.

*WARNING: Give to boyfriends at your own risk. One glimpse of this protein-packed dynamo will have even the most untamable of stallions trying to wife your ass.

The best sausages in Vancouver are found on Granville Island at Dussa’s Ham & Cheese. Unfortunately, Granville Island can seem like a haunted orphanage combined with an Indiana Jones sequence… especially when you’ve been out all night drinking the night before.

Dragging my wretched carcass through the crowds, I consider scrapping the whole idea, then cowardly and expensively cabbing home. Wild Turkey-infused sweat is seeping from my matted hair that still smells like FreshSlice and strangers. I am fairly sure there is at least one amateur cellphone video being filmed of me. I look THAT haggard. Seconds before I just lay down on the floor of the market and let the crowd trample me, I remember why I’m doing this for: my dad.

Though sometimes I curse him for being hard to please, and for giving me my huge mannish shoulders, he is a wicked guy.

I push my hangover up to the sausage counter like a shopping cart full of pop cans. I can’t quit now. Spicy chorizo, Ukrainian Farmer’s sausage and the showpiece: Landjaegers. So many sausages. Wanting to share my scheme, (and assure the guy who works there that I don’t have a tapeworm) I pull out my crude napkin sketch of the sausage bouquet.

“Wow. You’re the best daughter ever!” says the sausage man.

I beam and hold back tears. Tears that reek of whiskey.

Back at my apartment, I spread my treasures on the counter and get to work. The next hour or so is spent arranging meats in flower-inspired ways on kebab skewers, and then sticking each one in a vase lined with boccacinis.

(Fun foodie fact: “Boccacini” means “little mouthfuls” in Italian!)

Next: mad dash to the bus stop with my masterpiece. It is breathtaking. A shifty-looking dog follows me for two blocks. Fortunately I get a seat, but the movements of the bus still make the wieners bob up and down like they’re at a German ElektroPop club.

People on board have lots of questions. The most common of them being “Can you eat that?”, “How much did it cost?” and “Are you single?” One older lady looks offended at first, but then I see her hiding a smile. You can’t help it, I think, They’re dancing with you.

I sit back on the bumpy bus with my swaying vase of franks and enjoy the ride. Just as I plan to enjoy coasting on the glory of the Sausage Bouquet for years to come.

Try making your own sausage art today! (And send me pictures.)

Pairing suggestion: CHIMAY Blue Label or Yukon Brewing’s Ice Fog IPA

Price: Around 45.00, plus skewers and vase.

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