I was at the supermarket today. For less than the price of a cup of coffee I picked up a hundred bamboo skewers.

I have no idea what to do with them (suggestions welcome), especially on my ownsome, but I think they are way cool. Especially the price.

Bamboo Skewers

I made myself walk past the ginger–always a challenge. We have been talking figging for months now, and I once threatened to self-fig, only to have him give me the sort of look you would give a 4-year-old who had deliberately thrown ice cream on the floor for the third time in a row.


So I didn’t even go over to finger a finger. I walked on by. Proudly.

I did stop at the sausage case though, and I ended up buying a ridiculous amount of sausage from an overly jovial, possibly camp, butcher. He looked a bit like my boyfriend, if my boyfriend were to feast on several pounds of fatty meat each meal. After I bought chicken sausage (for dinner tonight) and pork sausage (for ragu sauce to freeze), a woman came over and started raving about the special St. Patrick’s day sausage, which was sitting in a huge, 10-yard long pile in the butcher’s case. “I made it,” said the smiley guy. “I made it with BEER. It has beer in it.”

“Not too much,” the woman added. “You can taste it but you don’t feel like you have beer breath.”

At this point I was starving so I asked for a couple of links of the beer sausage. I didn’t realize you actually twist off the sausage links from a long tube of sausage. It was so . . . overtly . . . obscene.


“Thanks,” I giggled. “I think I’ve got my sausage for the day!” And I walked off feeling like a total idiot.

But I have beer sausages. Mmmm. Beer.

Sausage picture from Patty Carroll’s strange “Anonymous Women” series.