Okay, guys. (You too, Ursula.) You heard the man in the funny looking mustache- - back to work!
However, if (like me) you shudder at the thought of ever having S.O.S. again, you might look back a few pages in the annals of project B2 and note that you haven't done the "Sunrise Summer Sausage" recipe yet. Am I right? I thought so. Whatcha waitin' fer, summer?
I input the recipe into my spreadsheet, determined that it would make enough for this end of the county to enjoy for the foreseeable future, and scaled it back to a quarter of the original. I checked all the amounts against the bulk density info that I had, although I didn't have any for the fermento©, listened to those voices in my head (one of whom sounded suspiciously like our old buddy Ross Hill) who told me to go to a local grocery store where I could score some Boston butt for $1.97 a pound, $1.00 off that price with their card thingie. Yeow!
I'll cut to the chase. A quarter recipe fills one of those LEM 3" mahogany casings that I had left over from last year that says "Venison. Not for Sale" or some such dire warning. I stuffed, worked out the air pockets, and tied one of those fancy fold-over knots that you read about. It's hanging from a kitchen cabinet knob, looking all official and mahogany-like, just like the store-bought summer sausage, but about to taste way, way better..
As to the fermenting, it looks like temperature isn't critical. There's a 95° F route and a 38° route, either of which takes about two days if the destructions are to be believed. I'll go with 70°, somewhere in the middle, for two days, then do the smoking, then hang 'it back in the kitchen for three days before sticking it into my meat locker (a.k.a. drink-o-rator) at 38° to store.
(Maybe I'm getting a false sense of security from all the tales about naturally fermenting soujouk. I dunno. How about some advice?)
So- - - you have your orders. Back to the program, unless you care to see a heavily-armed Highway-Patrol-Looking cruiser in your rear view mirror, closing fast, with great big
WD markings on it. ...and that extinguished, no, distinguished, mustache blowing in the breeze. ...and maybe me, El Ducko, side-keek extraordinary, ridin' shotgun. "Whatzat? ...no pork butts? Drop an' gimme twenty. You'll be eatin' S.O.S. fer the rest of yer miserable... Hey! What's this? Kabanosy? Hmmm. That changes things."
