Let us all bask in … Deer sausage
Before my epic journey of epicness (shout out to Scott Pilgrim for this brutalization of the English language — I love it dearly) to see a different college football game every weekend, I had never encountered deer sausage before. I blame myself alone for this error in judgement, as the stuff is bloody (no pun intended) fantastic.
Cait’s brother provided our first sampling in Tallahassee, and it was excellent enough to inspire several sentences of my ranting and raving about it.
Our next encounter came in Starkville, on the heels of gorging ourselves on barbecue, so it wasn’t the same level of sublime. But it came via complete strangers who had been kind enough to randomly invite us into their tailgate for a few minutes to sample the fare, talk about football, and hate on the Gators.
Did I say it wasn’t sublime?
I do find it weird that after 30 years on this planet with no deer sausage, I was offered it twice in two months, but never look a gift deer in the mouth, I always say.
There are many twists and turns these trips took Cait and I on, and we both learned a lot about ourselves and about the sport of college football. Many of these things are revealed in the book (buy it!). But perhaps the greatest truth of all is this:
Deer sausage (in the right hands … meaning mine) is very, very good.