Making Sausage

They say you never want to see what goes into the sausage. I say that's bullshit. Sausage is tasty and fun. And besides, while most people might be grossed out by the pig intestines and such, I get excited by the secrets.

Last weekend or so, I went up to Chicago to photograph my friends Sprio and Tess make sausage for their new blog Brunch, Drunk, Love. The whole day was full of awful innuendoes and subtle jabs at me for taking pictures (even though Tess asked me to come up specifically for this).

Windy City Express

Chicago Dog, Pizza Puff, Chery Pepsi

I woke up thinking about one thing. And over the morning that one thing evolved into three. Lying in bed, head hurting and throat dry, I had a huge craving for a pizza puff. A pizza puff is a wonderful pocket of cheese and meat in a greasy, flaky crust. Pretty much the best way to fix what was ailing me. 

Soon that craving was all I could think about. And walking to Windy City Express, I was worried that it wouldn't come through. Maybe the place would be closed, maybe they didn't have pizza puffs, maybe they were out. I was worried. But I got there and ordered in a shaky voice. And moments later I was enjoying my hot dog and pizza puff.

No, not the best I've had. That would have to go to the diner I would frequent in Edgewater, which is no longer there. But it was damn good. And really helped me out in a difficult spot, I had to be at work in a half-hour and I was not feeling it. That satisfied feeling stayed with me for most of the day.