The Falling Of The Fall

This afternoon when I returned from the hospital I discovered that Fall had fallen while I was away.  The entryway had a neglected and disreputable air that bore little resemblance to

its summertime glory.  Inspired by the crispy bounty underfoot, I wanted to rake myself silly, piling leaves high and playing at cleaning the place up, but I also want to wait until tomorrow, when Beppo and Zazou will be coming home from kitty camp.  I’m sure that raking will be ever so much more fun with their help, and besides, it will be Zazou’s first time to see a pile of dry leaves, an important moment in the life of a young cat.  Together we’ll tidy things up for when Shel rejoins us, in another day or two, and I’ll think of  something to cook that’s not at all like hospital food, to welcome him home.

It won’t be saucisse de Morteau, though, because that’s too heavy for someone who’s been living on basically gruel and gruesomeness.  Instead, it’s what I cooked for myself, a solitary treat for one of the first cool evenings of the year.  I find it a particularly succulent and comforting sausage, but then, I find sausages in general comforting.  And please, if you minored in Psychology, don’t go too far overboard with your analysis of why I think sausages are comfort food.  We all know why.

The saucisse de Morteau is a monumental pork sausage from the Jura region, smoked in a chimney over pine wood, deliciously juicy and tasting of campfires and jolly times in the mountains.  It’s a serious sausage, and not for the faint of digestion.  You can eat it before raking leaves, to give yourself strength, or afterwards, to replenish your pre-hibernation energy stores.

It’s perfect over sauerkraut, for a sort of abbreviated choucroute, but it’s also a treat just eaten plain with some really good mustard.  If you can get one, do.  If you have someone to share it with, tant mieux, so much the better.  If the one you love is in the hospital, share it with a cat.  If your cat is similarly incarcerated, well, you’re an adult.  You know what to do.

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One Comment on “The Falling Of The Fall”

  1. malarkey Says:

    Ohhhhh, Morteau. I first had this by chance from Oyama’s in Vancouver, the purveyor there said “try this” when he noticed I was losing my mind over the sausages there. Don’t know if it was imported or of their own making. All I know is the flavor of that thing still haunts me.

    I’ve not had it since. Well, I’ve had some reasonable facsimiles, but not the same thing at all. Everytime I go to Granville Island though, I look for it there. Glad you posted this. I can only imagine what they are like there.


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