These are not chipolatas. These are normal sized sausages placed on top of the biggest slice of bread which came from the biggest loaf of bread I have ever seen in my life. I didn't realise how burnt the sausages were until I looked at this photo the next day but lets just ignore that now and think about how nice an eating experience this was for me. That's right. This wasn't just lunch but an experience.
I was initially concerned about the herbiness of the olive oil and rosemary bread over-powering the innocence of the sausages but I honestly can't imagine having sausage sandwiches any other way now. I divided the sandwich into three and approached each one individually. Brown sauce was poured over two of the three sandwiches although, despite my valiant efforts, I only managed to eat two and a bit of them.
The 1600g loaf was purchased from the Blackheath farmers market which takes place on Sundays. The sausages, honey and mustard, also came from there. The place shall now become a a holy place for me. I shall make the pilgrimage every Sunday and take the bread and sausages into my mouth because that is how it is meant to be. This is the word of the sausage.
Thanks be to the sausage god.
