venison Sausages
There is, however, one article of war-time food on which I should like enlightenment. About a year ago a Scottish ghillie, with the rich persuasive accents of a highlander who knew what he was talking about, came upon the microphone to tell the world of the advent of a new and remarkable delicacy—venison
sausages. In a country which makes the least imaginative sausages in Europe, this promised to be a splendid thing. I recall the almost succulent accounts of the ghillie as he described how the deer could be driven down from the moors, how the carcases would be selected and quartered, and how finally the result would reach the public in sausage form. If I am not mistaken he gave a warning that though venison sausages would be plentiful they would also be something of an acquired taste. How very right he was! The taste for venison sausages is something for which the public, apparently, is not yet educated; for from that day to this the public never seems to have heard of them again. I can only conclude they were buried side by side with macon.
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