In this Perspective piece, Central Coast resident Brigit Binns, Author and Editor of many cookbooks including Sunset magazine’s Eating Up the West Coast, The New Wine Country Cookbook, The Palm Restaurant Cookbook and over a dozen for Williams Sonoma’s library of books, shares with us a secret: one of her favorite foods to cook during the carefree days of the season.   

Fire up the grill, it’s summer! And here comes the Fourth of July, the holy day of hotdogs when picnicking families gather in the sunlight to toss a frisbee, play fetch with the dog and cluster around the grill master holding court behind the smoking BBQ. Plates are balanced on knees, second helpings are plentiful and everyone talks at once. At dusk, people draw closer together, reminiscing and claiming Mom’s potato salad gets better each year. Then for the fireworks, all stand, heads craned back, to watch the sparkling spectacle of another year’s independence celebration.

Tubular meats just scream “SUMMER!” The star I’m talking about here is sausage, but not just any supermarket sausage, an actual haute dogue. It’s like a hotdog dog but elevated, a dog that probably studied at Juilliard. At my house, they are known as “snausages,” often shortened to “snozzies,” as in: 

He: “What’s for dinner?”

She: “Snozzies and salad!”

My adult love of sausages likely stems from my childhood, when I was not allowed to eat hotdogs or sausages. This subsection of food made the long list of no-nos that included 7-Up, Frosted Flakes and Chef Boyardee. It wasn’t until I was working on Wall Street after college that the powerful lure of the umbrella-topped Sabrett cart had me eating sausages for lunch on a near daily basis. The snap of the Polska kielbasa between my teeth sent me straight to my happy place. Soon after, I became a European by marriage and that opened up an entire new world of saucissons, merguez, chorizo, cotechino, fennel-studded wild boar sausages, even andouille, bangers and blood sausage — I devoured them all. Some people drift toward casseroles as comfort food; I steer straight for sausages. 

The hallmark of any efficient and economical butcher is robust sausage production. Just as unused cuts of beef go into a “burger blend,” off-cuts and miscellaneous tasty bits of pork, chicken, turkey, duck and other game meats go into the house sausage blend, often with exotic and tasty additions like fruit, herbs, veggies and lots of spices. Smoking sausages extends their shelf life and provides a flavor many folks find almost intoxicatingly delicious.

Our local sausage slingers make two different types of sausages: fresh and smoked. Fresh sausages are raw, and require cooking through to 155 degrees F (without poking or piercing, please). They feel squooshy when pressed. Smoked sausages are firmer, usually darker in color, and fully cooked, so you as the chef need only warm or crisp them before safely consuming.

I got the chance to truly apply my love for sausages in the late ’90s when I helped write a cookbook with Jody Maroni, known as the “Sausage King” of the Venice Beach Boardwalk. This is a guy who studied alongside supremely successful snozz-preneur Bruce Aidells, of supermarket ubiquity. My goal with that book was to seek out and present sausages with exemplary color, complex flavors, freshness and a welcome hint of citrus-y acidity to cut the fat. That’s why my sausage dishes today often resemble salads. As a long-time recipe developer for Weber grills, I’ve showcased the sausages of the world. That’s how I know the true hallmark of a superior sausage is that it facilitates an experience with those you love, making memories that re-emerge any time an encased meat graces your plate in the future. Here in San Luis Obispo County, we are blessed with a multitude of choices:

Alle-Pia is a true game changer in the sausage firmament. Emporio Alle-Pia is their shop in Atascadero. They ship cured meats and even fresh sausage to 48 states. Here you will find some very rare products like mangalitsa lardo and the outrageously delicious cotechino sausage.