Everyday, Tuesday through Sunday, you can !nd Sonny D’Angelo behind the counter of his Italian Market shop making sausages. As his right hand powers the meat grinder, his left delicately guides the sausages into a variety of shapes, from long, continuous coils to loops of short links. Though Sonny moves effortlessly, it’s easy to forget that the grinder is forcing dozens of pounds of meat through the spout every minute, into a casing that isn’t much thicker than a condom. One small tear and the whole sausage is ruined.
But Sonny has had plenty of time to master his craft. Fifty–four years, in fact. “I started making sausage when I was thirteen. When all the other boys were playing football or basketball or hockey or soccer, I was here, literally right here, learning to make sausages.”
Though he started out making classic Italian sausages, he began experimenting with more and more exotic meats and spices. “I can make sausages from almost any ethnicity...and I’m always thinking of new recipes. I’ll be in traffic and suddenly have a great idea for a sausage.”
His display case is filled with the exotic: pheasant and boar and kangaroo/fig sausages, sitting beside footballs of haggis. Alligator steaks are also available. According to Sonny they do, in fact, taste like chicken. “But alligator also has a distinct seafood flavor, almost like scallops.”
From alligator to yak, Sonny has an extensive
knowledge of game meats and their complimentary
herbs, spices and fruits, which lets him
build appealing flavor and texture combinations
for otherwise insane sounding sausages—like
rattlesnake sausage. “It actually sold well, but
I’ve stopped making it because the meat is so
expensive. It’s almost fifty dollars a pound!” Although
rattlesnake is off the counter for now, snake
lovers can instead get their fix with python fillets.
And while snakes are fair game, the one meat Sonny
doesn’t mess with is, curiously, emu. “I tried it once,
but it was very waxy. Didn’t like it at all.”
Still, filleted python is only the second-weirdest thing in Sonny's small shop. From the back wall a giant stuffed elk head peers curiously over the shoulders of patrons, a black bear screams silently beside it, and an eight–point buck looks on, bored. Beneath the trio is an extensive rack of animal pelts, from deer to bear to coyote. All are for sale. “I also do a little taxidermy...I tanned all those. I used to sell a lot of them. Mostly the Native Americans that came here for the game meat also bought skins for drums and stuff.”
Though an avid hunter in years past, Sonny now spends most of his time with the shop. “I’ve built up loyal customers and I enjoy making what they love.”
