Sometimes only a sausage bagel will do. I am not sure why or how I devised this breakfast sandwich. I think it was during what I now refer to as our “fat years” in Reno. You know those years after you’ve just gotten married and you know you won’t have to date anyone ever again? Yes, those years. Ours were full of casino buffets, the astonishing Chicken Diane (a stick and a half of butter for two servings!) and sausage bagels.
I don’t know how I got my hands on a roll of Tennessee Pride sausage, the only sausage in the world for me. They didn’t sell it in Reno at the time and I don’t think they do today. In fact, there were no sausage patties of any kind in Reno. Links only. By way of nostalgia, you can watch a TV ad from the 1960s touting Tennessee Pride sausage here. Mark still remembers ever word of the jingle.
But I did and I made these sinful, sinful sausage bagels. I added onion and called it a vegetable just to ease my conscience. Once we moved to Tennessee our “fat years” were over and we slimmed back down after I remarked to my husband one day that he was beginning to resemble a very corpulent acquaintance of ours. He kindly did not lob a return shot over the bow.
However, we did not completely abandon the sausage bagel. We just trot it out sparingly these days. Today was such a day. We had both worked late and slept in. It was approaching 11 a.m. when we decided to eat something and the sausage bagel made its rare appearance.
There’s no recipe for this. Just a procedure. Butter two bagels liberally and brown them under the broiler. Meanwhile, fry four sausage patties. Have at the ready plain yellow mustard, thinly sliced onion and two slices of processed cheese. Yes, processed cheese. Don’t get all uppity with me now. Other cheeses don’t melt like good old processed cheese.
To assemble, top one bagel slice with 2 sausage patties (one of them cut in half so there is but a single layer of sausage). Slather with the plain yellow mustard, top with thinly sliced onion and finish with that glorious processed cheese slice. Top with the other buttered bagel half and kind of smash it down so everything gets cozy. Cut in half and tell yourself you’re only going to eat one half. Understand that you are lying to yourself.