The thing to remember about cooking with grandma is that
Nothing is exact
No measuring cups or spoons
Just dollops, scoops, and pinches
Everything is by touch and taste
Until it is right  

First divide the sausage
Six to a pound if you are feeding the family
Twelve for a party
Already I’m cheating because I use premixed sausage from the store
Roll each portion into an oblong
Ignore the fat coating your skin seeping into your pores
As sage tickles your nose
The microwave a betrayal
Of grandma frying on the stovetop
Turning rows of sausages quickly with a wooden spoon
Serving as punctuation to her story
Or meting out punishment
Pat the sausages dry
Then wrap into tidy dough packages
At least my dough is made from scratch
And tuck into a greased pan
Leaving room to expand
Baking leaves just time for a cup at the kitchen table
And a story about grandpa
Polish each brown-tinted package with butter
Serve with applesauce on the side
Watch that first bite
Or you will burn your mouth
Biting into memory  

The thing to remember about cooking with grandma is that
Nothing is exact
No measuring cups or spoons
Just dollops, scoops, and pinches
Everything is by touch and taste
Until it is right