Straight Pipes, Fart Cans, Thumpers and Squids

I am a lifelong motorcyclist and a Motorcycle Safety Foundation certified Instructor/Rider Coach. I teach my students safety and responsibility. My marque of choice is BMW, however I will ride anything on 2 wheels if afforded the opportunity. I've ridden/owned touring bikes, sport bikes, standards and dirt bikes. Riding is a passion and my freedom to ride is something I defend vigorously against all enemies, foreign, domestic and stupid.

Spring is in the air, the onslaught has begun and the stupid are running rampant. While wandering downtown Fredericksburg Thursday, I was treated to no less than five cruiser type motorcycles, six assorted Japanese coupes and three Squids (Squirrely Kids) on crotch rockets rolling down Caroline Street, proving to one and all that their straight pipes, fart cans and throttle blipping are poor substitutions for the inadequate equipment they possess in other areas of their lives.

Now, I readily admit, I am prejudiced against the majority of cruiser type riders. Most are nothing more than sad poseurs, whose only concern is trying to look like the "big, bad lone-wolf" type. ATTENTION K-MART SHOPPERS: There are millions of you clowns puttering around. You've failed. Move on. Get a life.

To add to this image, they outfit their motorcycles with straight pipes and fly the righteous banner of "loud pipes save lives." When challenged to provide any shred of scientific or empirical data to support their position (which of course does not exist), they pull the old shuck & jive and piously claim their loud pipes are a right.
Sadly, these pathetic excuses for motorcyclists, who unfortunately have the right to modify (albeit illegally) their bikes, don't consider ear splitting exhausts to be the single biggest impediment to true motorcyclist rights. They never think for a moment that the driving public is a much larger voting block than we are and the impression they leave is lasting and negative. Their only concern is trying to look cool and be as obnoxious as possible.

My disdain for the sport bikers almost equals that of the loud pipe crowd. Squids on crotch rockets using the roadways as their own personal race track. Throttle blipping at traffic lights in order to prove...well...something to someone; although it escapes me as to what. I love the contradiction these kids provide. Shorts, flip flops, a tank top and a $500 helmet. I mean...WTF? I tell my students "At least they'll look pretty from the neck up, inside the casket." I do not begrudge them the way they dress for they unknowingly provide endless entertainment with their comedic antics. Sadly though, they are the second biggest impediment to motorcyclist rights. Oblivious to the damage they cause, concerned only with impressing their fellow Squids and the vapid girls who happen to look their way.

The Fart Can crowd has also emerged from their Winter slumber. What is a fart can you ask? It is the over sized tail piece on the muffler of cars (usually some Japanese import) whose 20-something crowd owners, revel in the belief that loud exhausts, a stupid looking spoiler and a plethora of racing stickers on their windows, equates to some type of bad-assed Speed Racer cool image. The reality is oh so different. They are fodder for mockery, ridicule, disdain and never ending jokes.

Spring is not yet officially here, yet the signs are all around. Pollen, fart cans, flowers, straight pipes, mulch, squids, co-eds in shorts and pot holes. The only thing missing are the Thumpers. The gaggle of stereo cruisers that share their music with everyone within 300 yards. Guess the weather isn't quite warm enough for them yet. Soon come though. Soon come.

It is my sincere hope that the local constabulary will pull each and every one of these clowns over and write them a ticket. The more time they spend in court fighting (or paying) their tickets, the less time they spend on the street assaulting city residents.

A Bratmeister Is Born

I cook as a hobby. The kitchen is where I enjoy spending a good majority of my time when home. My forte' is Italian, but I'll try anything. Asian, Mexican, Regional American, French, etc. I'm adventurous and every new recipe is something of a challenge. I also love making bread. There's something satisfying about seeing dough rise and knowing there's Brioche, a batard, baguette or loaf of Tuscan peasant bread waiting at the far end of the effort.

While at Olde Towne Butcher in downtown a couple weeks ago, there posted on the door was a sign "Sausage Making Class, Tuesday March 9th." I've always loved sausage and had this idea in my head that there was some type of mystique that went along with making it. After all, there are all types of sausages in the world and one has to have some special talent in order to make it...right? Here was an open invitation to enter the renowned world of Bratmeisters. Heck, if they were going to give away the secrets for a mere $40, I was in!

The group of would be sausage makers totaled approximately twenty. Lee and his team went through the cuts of meat used for making various types of sausage, the types of spices, acceptable fat content of the meat and of course the casings. He also addressed hygiene and the importance of keeping the meat cold while creating. We broke into three groups. One group cutting up the dead pig, one group mixing spices and my group, already taking the end product and making links. This was pretty cool.

After learning how to twist, cut and stack links, I moved over to the machine used for filling the casings. The "sausage tube" looks like a small funnel, is attached to the machine and the casing slides on. Casings come in 27ft lengths, but can be cut down to almost any size. Put the ground meat mixture into the machine, apply a bit of pressure to the underside of the casing and step on the pedal. Holy crap! I'm caught somewhat off guard. This is an industrial machine and the sausage comes flying out of the tube, into the casing and before I realize it, I've filled 10ft with a red wine and sage mixture. I pick up the filled casing, take it over to the table and promptly drop it in front of the new crew learning to make links.

Turn around and I'm now watching another group mix up the "Fred Red" concoction. Pork, spices and a large bottle of the local brew. That done, they move on to create a spicy Italian mixture, changing out the blades to produce a coarser grind.

In what seems like the blink of an eye, 90 minutes has gone by. We've turned out 40-50lbs of three different sausages. We all walk away with about 5lbs total of the three (Fred Red, Italian & Red wine/sage), a book on sausage making and a catalog of equipment. Fortunately, I already have a heavy duty Kitchen Aid with the food grinder attachment. I simply need to buy the sausage stuffing attachment in order to begin practicing. This of course doesn't stop me from paging through the catalog and dreaming of new toys for the kitchen.

As soon as we go through the sausage we have, I'll be buying a couple of pork butts (which I learned comes from the shoulder of the pig...not his hind parts) and trying my hand at sausage making. Sandy says we can buy it, which of course we can, but what fun is there in that? Now that I have an idea how to make it...I certainly shall do so. New adventures in the kitchen await.