Polishing The Old Sausage

It’s true what they say: eating sausage is like riding a bicycle, do it slow and everything will be OK. For years I was longing for a firm piece of sausage that would taste like real meat. Industrial sausages are like marital aids – they may have the right look and size but they just don’t taste right. Finally I got tired of living with mediocre impostor sausages, the time was right to visit Krizman’s House of Sausage in Kansas City, KS (<–click on the link for the address to magically appear).
Finding Krizman’s is pretty easy. Moving North on the 6th street, go past “Fat Matt’s Vortex”.

This view on the right is a good sign you are on the correct track.

Slow down by the VFW post.

Right by the tattooed chick…

…turn left into the parking lot.

If you are driving past this…

…you missed it.
Just to reiterate, this should be the view ahead of you…

…and this is where you came from.

According to this site, Krizman’s has been making the real sausages since 1939. The assortment is not mind-boggling and the Polish sausage seems to be the item most women people want. If you are lucky, Vice President Joe Krizman himself will weigh you several hefty links of this delicious sausage. While I was in the store they were packing a special order of sausage to be shipped off to California where the sausage seems to be in high demand but there is an unexplained abundance of tacos.

Krizman’s Polish Sausage costs just little over $4/lb leaving no excuse to munch on a limp corporate sausage.

For those who crave some exotic sausages they offer blood sausage and other unusual varieties, but I am just a traditional Polish sausage guy.

On the way home I took a few pictures of this church with an Orthodox Christian-looking cupola…

…and a view of the downtown worthy of showing to people who will never visit this area.

Leaving Kansas City,KS I thought that Krizman’s should call themselves Joyeria to better reflect on the small pleasures they share with the sausage lovers everywhere.

Fresh sausage calling my name from the back seat of my car, I drove home to enjoy the rest of my day.