Sausage Bake

Another weekend, another chance at making breakfast items at breakfast time when I don't care about them instead of at dinner when it is tragic. I had another breakfast recipe from my wedding planner Frank and his partner, Shawn, this time for a 'Sausage Bake.' I had never heard the term 'bake' as a noun before. Okay, that is a lie. I have heard of clambakes. But I haven't heard of an anything else-bake. However, I am judging that it is a Midwestern culinary convention as suddenly I have heard of it three times in the past week: once when Josh called something a 'chicken bake', once from Garrison Keillor, and once in this recipe.

Frank also assures us that this particular Sausage Bake recipe was a big hit at his annual Pre-Pride Parade brunch when he lived in Boystown in Chicago. I shall pause for you to get all the 'sausage fest' jokes that are running through your head out.

Feel better? Okay, good.

So, I approached this Sausage Bake with the same sentiment that carried me through Frank's other French Toast Italiano recipe - feelings that it doesn't seem to appeal to me on prospect, but trust in Frank's taste, so knowing everyone else will love it no matter what I think. Luckily, my friend Andy was in town, so I was looking forward to loading him up with sausage before he hopped his plane home.

Sausage.

Andy is one of my oldest friends, and that means he is not a virgin in terms of my cooking. This is my way of saying he was skeptical, to say the least, when I informed him I would be making him a gigantic unproven sausage breakfast. However, I pointed out to him that he probably could not think of one terrible thing I cooked for him, and rather he probably had just fallen prey to my bad PR campaign about my own cooking skills. He agreed. This is because he is agreeable, and realizes that agreeing is often a better course of action than to argue with the woman who is frying up your sausage.

Sausage jokes never get old, do they?

Anyhow, then I remembered the time I made him, Josh, and me a perhaps poorly thought out menu of chili with champagne to celebrate New Year's one year. I will leave you to your imaginations as to how that turned out. No I won't. It was farty.

Ultimately, the Sausage Bake was very easy, fairly quick (if you ignore the fact that you have to make it the night before and then, you know, get up an hour and a half early to bake it), and consummately breakfast-y. I successfully navigated the novel world of sausage-frying as well. I'm sure the grocery store worker who saw me agonizing over exactly which giant tube of sausage to buy had never seen anyone give sausage quite that much thought before. But it turned out well, and oddly without the usual 'I have festering meat bits on the ceiling' fears that raw meat usually inspires in me. It must have been due to the beer I'd had at the Dodgers game beforehand. Note to self.

It was basically sausage and eggs in a giant pan. I was hoping the croutons and mushrooms that went with it would somehow mask the eggs, but no such luck. So I picked around the eggy bits, and ate the sausage while Andy and Josh gave themselves multiple helpings, which I would say is a positive review. As this is a big recipe fit for a large brunch party, we still have a bit left. As it seems the sausage (or something) aggravated Josh's reflux, I am not sure the leftovers are going to get the treatment they deserve. But nonetheless, you brunchers can now lose your mind over a giant pan of sausage, and I can lose mine over being one more recipe closer to the next chapter.

Is that sausage in your pan
or are you just happy to see me?

Sausage Bake (i.e. Frank's Sausage Fest)

2 1/2 cups herbed croutons
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese
1 can mushroom soup
1 sm (4 oz) can mushrooms
2 lb bulk sausage (browned & drained)
2 1/2 cups milk
6 eggs
3/4 tsp dry mustard

Brown and drain sausage - crumble. Be nervous cutting into the tube 'o sausage, since, you know, you're a Jew. Then slice the raw bits into rounds like the sausage package directions say. Then realize Frank's directions say crumble, so just chop it all up in the pan like ground beef. Feel on more familiar turf.

Place croutons on bottom of 9 x 13 pan. Measure out 2.5 cups of croutons to do this. Then decide, 'Aw Hell' and dump the rest of the box in. Top with shredded cheese. Be delighted that one bag of shredded cheese is 2 cups and that you were smart enough to look for this.

Read ahead. Realize that the directions do not specify exactly where the sausage is supposed to go in the pan. In fact, realize that the way the directions read, the sausage could just be something you eat along with the egg/mushroom/crouton concoction. Decide this can't be the case, and that in most sandwiches, the meat goes next to the cheese, which means the sausage should go on top of the cheese. Figure it's all going to be a big mishmosh anyways, so whatever.

Beat eggs, mustard and milk together. Add mushrooms and mushroom soup. Pour over croutons and cheese. Hmmm. Read this again as you type your blog and wonder if the sausage should have been the first layer.

Refrigerate overnight.

Mumble incoherently to Josh when he wakes up at the crack of dawn. Think you are saying, 'My darling, would you please be even sweeter than you already are and put in the Sausage Bake at 300 for 1 1/2 hours while I sleep blissfully under the pile of animals? Oh thank you ever so much, you strong handsome man.' Really say, 'Blergh Knofphw.' Get up when Josh says Sausage Bake is done. Let stand for 15 minutes before serving. Eat in ridiculous matching Jamaican t-shirt and shorts outfit that you will pretend to Andy was pajamas, but really were wearing around all day yesterday. Taunt readers by discussing said outfit, but not posting a picture of it.

Bon Appetit!