They are link-shaped and come in all sizes — short, long, thin, and chubby
I definitely detect a pork product of some kind.
- Garth
The Kangdigity and I were on the chairlift last winter and I was telling him about an article I’d read on potted meat. A guy on the lift spoke up saying, “That’s the most disgusting food ever.” We quickly disabused him of that erroneous belief by pointing out that hot dogs are clearly more disgusting, being made mostly, as Kangdigity pointed out, of “lips and nipples.”
“I thought it was lips and assholes,” I said.
“We’ll they taste an awful lot like areola to me.”
“Good point.”
So which is it? According to the USDA:
One or more kinds of raw skeletal muscle from livestock.
Also:
The definition of “meat” was amended in December 1994 to include any “meat” product that is produced by advanced meat/bone separation machinery.
Interesting.
Mechanically Separated Meat (MSM) A paste-like and batter-like meat product produced by forcing beef or pork bones, with attached edible meat, under high pressure through a sieve or similar device to separate the bone from the edible meat tissue.
Mechanicaly separated poultry(MSP) is the same, but with birds instead. Why they make a distinction I don’t know. The take home message is that hot dogs are limited to 20% or less MSM, but can contain any concentration of MSP. So eat pork hot dogs (which contain both assholes AND nipples) instead of chicken/turkey dogs. Although I’m pretty sure that birds don’t have nipples. If they do they’re quite small. Nothing like a pig’s.
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So though I’ve been on a wiener kick recently, thanks to Tbags and SCMartin, I think I’ll take a bit of a break from tube meats. Right after my birthday that is. I think I want to Q up a BWHD…
-M
Second day of the Wild West Relay (Fort Collins-Steamboat Spgs, CO) last August. Why is this guy smiling? Despite two hours of sleep and 14 miles of running (almost all of it uphill) in the last 24 hours, and the prospect of another uphill 5.5 miles to finish it off, there is BACON available. Coffee (I know, I KNOW, it was the only caffeinated beverage available, and it’s not like I would otherwise voluntarily give them my $) was also absolutely necessary. Which is good, because that’s all there was. Except for the sweat- and Gatorade-soaked Clif bar in the bottom of my duffelbag, buried under three strata of stinky but hi-tech clothes, which nauseated me and my teammates by its mere presence.
Don’t look up. Whatever you do, don’t look up.
Team Bacon Strip mobbed the 
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