Tulip - Pork & Herb Sausage

There’s a puzzle in this week’s review.  Can you spot which sitcom I’ve referenced, and how many times?  On with the fun, cos the sausages weren’t up to much....

After last week’s awful sausages I was rather trepidatious (is that a word? I’m sure you know what I mean) to review another banger straight from the supermarket shelf this week.  Generic Meat Aisle Sausage = Lah-Di-Dah.  Ho hum.   Chiz chiz.

There’s an old Hindu proverb that says that if you see two eyes staring at you in the dark it may not be a tiger about to attack you....it may be two one-eyed tigers about to attack you.  So would Rate My Sausage be subject to two terrible sausagey attacks in a row?  Sometimes it feels like RMS will send me Deolali.

Meat Content:

Claimed to be 89%, which is a lofty figure for a mass produced sausage.  There’s definitely meat included as I found gristle in one of the bangers, suggesting at least a nod towards the pig farm.  Sadly the meat plays a distant second fiddle to the bucketloads of herbs.  Skins aren’t bad though.  Not the worst we’ve tried, but still not worthy of a genuine English icon like Phil Tufnell or John Sargeant.  Major disappointment.

Flavour:

Overwhelmingly herby.  It’s like emptying your entire spice rack into the sausages, and it’s a definite case of “Meet the gang cos the boys are here,” seasoning-wise.  Too much, the taste of the pork meat is swamped with a selection of seasonings that are multitudinous, and that I couldn’t really pick out.  There’s a taste that is reminiscent of a roast lamb Sunday dinner, so maybe thyme and parsley?  Definitely sage, which comes in at the end.  These are like those supermarket “best of” brands which boast bold flavour combinations like “caramelised red onion with extract of Royal Estate squirrel”, where the added flavours completely dominate and overwhelm, and the pork is left trembling and cowering in the corner, afraid to raise its voice.  Herbier than a white Volkswagen Beetle with a mind of its own!  As a nod towards our most recent Guest reviewer, and beer blogger Matt Stokes, I reckon these sausages would best be paired with a nice glug of Bombardier ale.  What a shame that the herbs don’t work perfectly in concert, party to the meat.  You can see the herbs in all the photos of these bangers, they practically hog the camera.

Texture:

Smooth-ish and unchallenging.  Not chunky enough.  Again, not the worst factory banger though, far from it.  As much as I’d wish the pork content to consist solely of a chopped up fine pair of shoulders of pork, I suspect it’s rather inferior cuts in the blender.  Mind you, they do cook differently and end up as different shapes and sizes, which is a good thing.

Shrinkage: 

Average weight uncooked - 72g

Average weight cooked - 50g

Shrinkage - 30%

Absolutely shameful.  To lose almost one third of the product that you purchase is scandalous.  The post-cooking price of what little sausage you have left is boosted to over £6.50 per kilogram, and for that price you really want hand-crafted proper sausages from a proper British butcher.  Land of hope and glory?  Shut up!

Value For Money:

£1.99 for six sausages, weighing 431g - this works out as a price of £4.62 per kg (before cooking, see above), or 33p per snorker.  This represents very poor value for money.  Very poor indeed.

The Bisto Factor:

There was a slight herby aroma going on, but not a lot.  Which is somewhat surprising considering the herb-overloaded flavour.

And Finally, Esther:

Tulip’s over-herby sausages were distinctly average.  After I’d totted up the scores in all the categories they rated exactly the same as the dreadful Tesco’s Lincolnshires from March this year.  I grow tired of retail sausages, that’s two weeks on the bounce now.  I yearn for an artisan banger. 

Fruitpig, Fruitpig, wherefore art thou, Fruitpig?