I used to cook gourmet sausages for weekend breakfast. My aunt’s quick to point out the badness of processed meat. It kinda make sense cause it tastes really good and we all know, bad food tastes really good. To ensure peace in the kingdom, I consent to eat my gourmet sausages only once every quarter.
Maybe it’s the cold weather, maybe it’s a side effect of cleaning up my food pictures, but I think it’s largely because Cousin Sister cooked Aglio Olio yesterday and use gourmet sausage as meatballs. Cut off the sausage, squeeze the meat out and roll it into meatball. It opened up a can of highly pressurized suppressed-longing for gourmet sausages. It’s like putting a lit ciggy on the hands of someone trying to quit smoking.
I dreamt of gourmet sausages that night. I believe I might even chew on something but this morning I woke up with a cold sore on the edge of my lips. It hurts like the devil despite generous application of Lucas Pawpaw but it manage to kill the craving for gourmet sausages.
In retrospect I should have consent to eat gourmet sausages once a month.
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