A glancing backstory: my wife left me last summer, we got divorced. It sucked, I moved on, and am much, much happier and better off now. The end.
That’s it. Now you’re completely up to speed.
So, I come home from work a few days before Christmas and have a long UPS box on my porch. It’s from the ex-in-laws (is that the correct title?). It’s a 32oz Hickory Farms Beef Summer Sausage. “Sorry our daughter sucks, here’s two pounds of processed beef in a paper casing” was the implied message. At least that’s how I took it.
They say that divorce is hardest on the children. Lies. Dirty, filthy lies. It’s hardest on the meat purveyors. Packaging awkward sympathy alongside beef, seasoning, hickory smoke flavoring, Sodium Erythorbate, and Sodium Nitrate isn’t an easy task for mere mortals. So, my apologies to the folks at Hickory Farms for being dragged through this sordid process. I know it’s not easy.
Just know, Hickory Farms, it had nothing to do with you, and there was nothing you could have done to prevent it.
Since I am but one man, I jumped the gun and chopped the 2-pound beeflog beast into more managable ziploc-sized chunks before thinking to take a picture of it. Honestly, photographing 2lb beef sticks was the farthest thing from my mind. There’s a porno joke in there somewhere, I just can’t seem to completely bring it full circle though. Just know it wasn’t lost on me.
Anyway, here’s a shitty stock photo of Consolation Sausage:

Not pictured: pain and anguish.
And after popping it out from its protective casing and slicing it up into lovely lonely-cracker-sized pieces:
I swear it’s not staged. Every single piece I cut has that. It’s like the Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese in every piece. I’m actually amazed it’s not crying beef blood. Or Sodium Nitrate blood.
Texture: Gritty, a bit scarred. Coarse, even. Twinges of awkward throughout.
Taste: Slightly bitter. The occasional hint of failure and embarrassment, and overall very dry. Oh, and meat. I guess it has meat flavors in it.
JK Score: 9/10 Why so high? Because, honestly, despite all the Consolation Sausage’s misgivings, the intent was… assumedly benign, and well, sue me, I like Summer Sausage. Plus, had the sausage no need to exist, I wouldn’t be where I am today. So, yah. Go sausage!


My mom received also received a cheese & sausage gift for her first Christmas as an ex-daughter-in-law. Must be in some secret In-law brochure.
And for the record, it was mighty difficult to word this appropriately.