Thursday, February 28, 2013

The Empty Promise of a Sausage Roll

 I feel cheated.  I was in Tops supermarket buying rolls for our beloved bison burgers (fresh from the local buffalo ranch) when I spied something that sent a wave of nostalgia gushing through me. In one of the bakery compartments a sign read "sausage rolls".  Sausage rolls! Could it really be? Since coming to America, I hadn't clapped eyes on a sausage roll, or on a proper sausage for that matter. It's not that I eat sausage rolls that much when I'm in London but they are a part of my old life, something, if spotted in the land of exile, to be grasped with both hands. Which I did. The sausage rolls (I treated myself to two) seemed rather large. But then I thought, this is America, everything is, as they say, bigger, bigger, BIGGER. They also seemed suspiciously light but in my excitement I didn't grasp the significance.
  I brought them home trembling with anticipation and pondered whether to heat them up or eat them as is. I decided on the latter and took an eager bite. Then another and another. Wait a minute. Where was the sausage? I got to the end. No sausage. If the roll was filled with anything, it was filled with air.  "Maybe that's just a duff one", I tried to cheer myself up and bit into the other.  The same thing!  I vented my frustrations on poor hubby, who tried very hard but ultimately unsuccessfully not to laugh. In fact he thought it was the most hilarious thing he'd heard in ages. Enough said. What sort of country is this where you buy a sausage roll and have to provide your own sausage?

No comments:

Post a Comment