No One Can Resist Our Sausage Balls

We hosted a holiday brunch for our dinner party group this morning. It was a much-needed morning of hearty laughter the entire time. First I, then Keith had some seriously boneheaded klutzy moments....I slung an egg, broke a wine glass and practically walked into walls while Keith poured a drink down the front of him and sent holiday tins flying. Our timing was off and we cracked up throughout it all. Part of our uncontrollable laughter was due to our menu...but mostly due to our sophomoric humor.

We had a comforting Praline French Toast Bake and Keith made his first quiche...a delicious Spinach and Bacon Quiche. My friend Linda, recently inspired make a pie a week from scratch, brought two wonderful pies...a chocolate and a lemon meringue. We served these with Mimosas and some Hazelnut coffee. The cause for our juvenile actions though were the Sausage Balls. Our bonified Brunch balls. They were yummy...made with sharp cheddar cheese and Bisquick baking mix. However, in the spirit of the classic Pete Schwetty SNL skit with Alec Baldwin we were constantly dissolving into giggles.

We told our group how we had to constantly massage the balls to get them just right. Soon, people were saying our balls were lovely and in fact, Jane said they were the best balls she'd ever had. This brought up memories of Jane telling us about the Irish setter she used to have and how he had the most beautiful red balls that just swung when he ran and at certain times, would even catch the sunlight. We were nearly under the table heaving with laughter at this point.

Soon, nothing could be told from the classic story of the little Dutch boy to a simple tale of renting a DVD without some risque double entendre. We were purely immature but laughed so hard it sent my mood into the stratosphere.

This brunch was so good even my soul was satisfied.