By Anne Gagliano
It is a cold winter’s day in Seattle and I find myself on the brink of a firefighter-planned roller coaster ride. My husband Mike and I have entered the garage of Lt. Leroy and Lynda Sisley for Sausage Fest 2014, and I have no idea what I’m in for. As I’ve stated before, anything goes at firefighter gatherings, and as is true with roller coaster rides, they are thrilling, unexpected, fun, and a little bit scary.
As we enter the garage, the first thing I notice is organization, and I am truly astounded by this as typically, firefighter gatherings are anything but organized. Along both sides of the garage are neatly lined tables with various machines on them. In the center of the room is a two-tiered table stocked with row upon row of giant spice bottles, the kind purchased from a warehouse store. Water containers, vinegar bottles, even cans of jalapenos and pineapple are there as well. I’m incredulous at this unusual site, for who has ever seen such a thing as raw meat and spices and a man in a sausage costume in someone’s garage? As I’m standing there gaping, the roller coaster starts.
A flurry of warm greetings ensues as the garage inhabitants welcome us. Some of the faces are familiar to me, some are not. The first ones I recognize are Jason Kent and Jimmy Richards from Mike’s Ladder 5 crew. I’m still wondering what we’re supposed to do with our 20-pound pork butt and 5-pound roll of ground turkey as I begin to observe what Jason is doing. He is busily turning the handle of some kind of machine while simultaneously scooping handfuls of ground meat out and plopping them into a disposable turkey-sized foil pan. He seems to know what’s going on, so I saunter over to watch. Jimmy’s watching Jason too. What is that machine? I ask Jason. It’s a mixer, he replies. I look at Jimmy, surprised to see him of all people here, as he is a vegetarian. Aren’t you a vegetarian? I ask him. Not anymore, Jimmy answers, and Jason howls with laughter. As I’ve stated before, you never know what you’re going to get with firefighters—their plans, even their eating habits, change on a dime.
Before I can ask Jason where we begin in this process of turning meat into sausage, I hear a loud banging behind me. I turn to see Mike hacking away at our pork butt with a giant meat cleaver. Our ride into Sausage Fest 2014 has officially begun. People hover around us, wondering what kind of meat we’ve brought; curious and friendly, we discuss meat choices as if at a grocery store butcher shop. Mike looks gleeful as he hacks away at our pork butt, turning it into a pile of strips. Though seemingly violent, I suddenly realize this is therapeutic for the high-stress job. We’re told by the friendly crowd what to do next: feed the strips into the meat grinder. Yes, the Sisleys actually own a real meat grinder.
Before I can bolt from the room, Mike solicits my help. He begins to feed our strips of pork into the grinder and turns the handle. Someone hands me a tool and tells me to push the strips down if they get stuck. Fearing I may swoon at the site of flesh being torn and shredded, I try to avert my eyes, but find I cannot. I see chunks go in and ground meat come out and, to my surprise, I am not horrified but mesmerized by this graphic sight. Suddenly I am reminded of a childhood toy—the play dough pumper hair salon. I’m starting to like this ride.
After a few short minutes, we now have our own turkey-sized disposable foil tray of ground pork. Leroy tells us to take our meat to a mixing table as he dances enthusiastically around us in his sausage costume. There are laminated 8 x 10 cards (laminated, mind you, for slimy pork fingers) with all kinds of sausage recipes printed in large, easy-to-read font scattered about the room. I grab a few that sound good as we head to an available machine. We dump some of our meat into the mixer and start adding spices from the spice table. One lady in the room is heard to have said, “I haven’t had this much fun with my clothes on in a long time,” and the crowd roars with laughter as this statement is repeated again and again. Because it is fun—an innocent kind of fun that grown-ups rarely get to experience. It’s like play dough and chemistry class all in one with a roomful of “cool kids” minus the bullying or insecurities that often accompany childhood activities.
Our recipes are haphazard at best, but somehow it doesn’t matter. What does matter is the warm, good humor from the folks who mill about chatting, encouraging, and swapping tips. Next to the mixing tables is a “grilling station.” Three hot grills sit below Leroy’s ammunition reloading station (I know it’s just lead, but …) ready to fry samples of sausage concoctions. I grimace at this prospect; are we actually going to take grubby, raw handfuls of meat; fry them under bins of live bullets; and then place them in our mouths with the same grubby hands? The words unsanitary, worms, e-coli, and suicide come to mind as I do this. But as the mixing, laughter, frying and sampling continue, you forget about germs and bullets as you plop your barely cooked creations into your mouth. Delicious! Freshly created, hot, cooked sausage seasoned with a touch of danger on a cold winter’s day never tasted so good!
Then as is common with firefighter gatherings, the already surreal goes to the next level as the haunting, wheezing music of bagpipes fills the room. Generous firefighters have gathered not only to have fun and socialize but to raise funds for the bagpipers. They march into the cold garage and add their magical touch. This is no ordinary cocktail party; this is one wild ride. The sights of raw meat and bullets, the sounds of bagpipes, and the smells of cooking sausage all combine to make this an event that only firefighters could create.
But wait, it gets better. It isn’t just meat we’re dealing with at this firefighter party but sausage, and sausage comes in links, does it not? I’ll tell you how this happens in my next column, as this story is just too big for a mere thousand words.
Anne Gagliano has been married to Captain Mike Gagliano of the Seattle (WA) Fire Department for 29 years. She and her husband lecture together on building and maintaining a strong marriage.
