I am a dead man
I grew up in a kielbasa family. Kielbasa was the meat of choice. My dad would travel miles and miles to find “the best” kielbasa. He had six brothers and several of them made their own kielbasa. There is still talk that one of them made kielbasa from a groundhog. They ate it every which way. Boiled, broiled, fried, grilled, on sandwiches, mixed with kraut and noodles, you name it. Anyway, you get the idea. And guess what? Five of the seven boys died of colon cancer or stomach cancer. Bad way to die, by the way...
Anyway, as I sit here in the kitchen typing, there is a plate of Jimmy Dean breakfast sausage sitting on the counter top about six feet from me. It is calling me. And I will eat it as soon as I hit the “post” button. I am hopeless.
Dead Man Frying...