I have mentioned my wee little sister Emily a few times on the blog. We are complete besties. She is my sous chef in the kitchen, and my sous chef in life


We are far too similar in the best and worst ways. Just as I imagine you might be with your siblings.


Drinking and eating together since the beginning


We share the same endomorphic genetics which means struggle with our weight, but maaaaaan do we love food. To put this into perspective, all our presents for each other are food related (I did ‘around the world in 20 cheeses’ one year, have made giant pork pies, and collected over 30 varieties of sausages for a feast – and we demolished 90%), most of our conversations are around food, we share constant pictures of food and most importantly, we just love to cook together.

Sausage day
Sausage Day 2015


Christmas has become an insanity of pretentiousness since we took over the cooking from my Mum – I am talking about “Caviar egg clouds with shredded highlights from the charcuterie” type shizzle.

We do not mess around.

We were doing a Sunday roast recently and I was making one of my favourite  accompaniments – ‘Rosemary potato crush’. I CANNOT resist picking at food when I cook it, its my worst habit, and as a result I was basically just relishing on these gorgeous golden crunchy Charlotte potatoes using them as tiny spades into Lurpak as if it was a dip.

She looked at me laughing, and said “you’re just a fat girl trapped inside aren’t you.”

Yes. Yes I am. (If you want to read about my own personal story have a mooch here).

So imagine me, with my fat girl mentality, deciding what to give up for lent (I am not particularly religious, but love a religious holiday and I always try to give up something for lent. I am also lucky enough to have a Jewish best friend too so I can join in those – if you’ve not tried Challah bread then get your act together sharpish).

So my boyfriend challenged me – “it has to be either cheese or sausages”.

Are you f*cking kidding me? That’s like choosing between which arm to keep.

I chose BOTH because I thought I would end up binging on one or the other if I wasn’t careful. So the cheese I cut down about 80% – pretty chuffed still.

But with the sausages I managed the full 40 days and nights (and man I felt them).

“But Lucy, how many sausages do you eat a week to warrant to give them up?”

You’d be surprised (80/20 way of life – 80% healthy, 20% pure sausage).

So anyway, finally getting to where this MAD SIBLING SAUSAGE WORLD merged into pure greatness. And it was in the shape of The Sausage Making Course I had booked Emily (and I) for Christmas … which only took place on bloomin Easter Sunday. Talk about meant to be!

We arrived at Jenius Social, a foodie hub, and a mere five minute Uber from Finsbury Park, nestled in Islington. A lush kitchen/studio with another couple who had also bought it as an Christmas gift.

We were greeted by lashings of wine from the lovely Cat (you have to pay extra, but who doesn’t love a sausage without a glass of red?) and we got down to business with our lovely chef for the day.  I cannot remember his name, but I recognised from a Jamie Oliver programme – and was SUPER knowledgable, passionate and a great presenter for the experience.

So we were there to learn ALL THINGS SAUSAGE, which covered:

  • Linking Of Sausages
  • How To Fill Sausages
  • How To Create Sausage Mixes
  • How To Cook Sausages
  • Flavour Balancing & Use Of Spices

And these were the FREAKING DELICIOUS squasauges we were making:

  • Toulouse Sausages
  • Hot Italian Sausages
  • Merguez Sausages


So we added all the ingredients to make different varieties – no RUSK THO PEOPLE – this was a pure Meat fest. Yeaaaaaaaaaah.

Once we had our mixes it was sausage making time.

Feeeeel the sausages. Beeee the sausage.


As a child of the 90s I always remember a Jeremy Beadle (RIP) episode where they made sausages with an automated machine and it created all sorts of (Beadle style) mishchief. With sausages flying everywhere like a carry on film.


So many 90’s Lols to be had.

HOWEVER, in this much more demiur environment we were presented with this contraption.

We had to thread the intestine (100% genuine intestine ah thank you, nothing synthetic here guv’nor) onto the end of the tube (Emily was much better at this) so I headed to the handle end.

It’s all about a steady flow. A calm and collective attitude, and someone that you trust to gently guide the sausage out the other end (said the actress to the bishop).

As I mentioned – Em is my most trusted confident in the kitchen so our sausages glided out like marines, ready to be twisted, uniform style into glorious bunches of meaty joy. We had definitely had a few wines by this stage, so the odd one looked slightly ‘special’ shall we say, but once you had eaten that bad boy you wouldn’t know the difference.

We made over 60 sausages. It was MENTAL and THE BEST THING EVER! We left lugging about 10 kilos back to Finsbury Park, where four hungry boys were waiting, and like hunter gatherers we came over the horizon, champions dragging back our prey.

They were delicious as you would expect, and we had the most fun on-the-day. It was another successful Christmas present and I would highly recommend it. We will be eating sausages until… well probably not long the rate that we eat them 😉

Never as happy as when I am knee deep in sausage.