I Do Not Like Sausage

When I was a young boy, my mother would frequently cook big, country breakfasts. The main dish for the breakfast would usually include pancakes, waffles, or hashbrowns. The side dish for the meal would usually include fried eggs, bacon, and breakfast sausage links.

I LIKED TO EAT FRIED EGGS. My dad liked to eat his fried eggs "sunny side up" with the yolks (and sometimes the whites) runny. While I liked to eat runny yolks with my eggs, I preferred to have the whites cooked solid. So, Mom would cook fried eggs "over easy" for me. (see related story about how Grandpa Clint Jasperson cooked fried eggs for me one morning)

I LIKED TO EAT PANCAKES. Mom would make them from scratch or using Bisquick as the base. We always had homemade syrup and butter to go with them. Dad taught us how to eat a fried egg between two pancakes as a stack (like a sandwich). I love the taste of runny egg yolk mixed with a bite of homemade pancake smothered in maple syrup.

I LIKED TO EAT WAFFLES. I would cover my waffle with maple syrup and then use my fork to smash the waffles into a mash before I ate them. Mom liked to eat her waffles with butter and Karo syrup. I learned to eat them that way as well. My preferred way to eat waffles today is with Karo syrup.

I LIKED TO EAT HASHBROWNS. Dad taught us to chop up our fried eggs with our hashbrowns. The runny egg yolk is kind of like gravy for the potato and egg mixture. This is still one of my favorite ways to eat fried eggs. I often eat leftover mashed potatoes with fried eggs.

I LIKED TO EAT BACON. When Mom cooked bacon, there never seemed to be enough bacon for everyone to get their fill. We had limits on the number of bacon slices we could eat.

I DID NOT LIKE TO EAT SAUSAGE. Actually, this is probably an understatement. I detested sausage. I refused to eat sausage. I do not remember why I did not like sausage. But I have strong emotional feelings about how much I disliked sausage.

My dad thought I should learn to like sausage. As a result, occasionally when Mom cooked sausage, Dad would put one or two links on my plate and tell me I would have to eat the sausage. I may have gagged down a bite or two of sausage once or twice. I do not remember for sure.

But I do remember that one particular day, Dad put one or two sausage links on my plate. I refused to eat them. So, Dad said I could not leave the table until I had eaten my sausage. I sat at the table and looked at the sausages on my plate. I knew that I could never eat them. After a while, I made myself throw up all the other parts of my breakfast that I had eaten that day on top of my plate and the offending sausages. Mom threw out the sausages and cleaned my plate. Dad never asked me to eat sausages again.

Years later, when I left for my mission to Germany, I set a goal that I would learn to eat sausages and tomatoes while I was a missionary. The first time I was offered a sausage as a missionary. I ate it. It was tasty. I soon learned to eat several different sausage varieties. I still eat sausage. It is hard for me to remember why I did not like sausage as a kid. My taste buds must have been different back then.

One of my favorite memories was purchasing a bratwurst sandwich from a street vendor in the following cities I visited as a missionary: München, Stuttgart, Nürnberg, Salzburg, and more.

(I never did learn to eat tomatoes.)

this is what a Bratwust sandwich would look like
if you bought it from a street vendor in Germany or Austria
makes my tastebuds water just looking at it!