If we had a nickel for every time some wisenheimer demanded a vegetarian BBQ recipe from us, we’d be millionaires instead of hundredaires. And honestly, we see the intended humor of expecting vegetables as a main dish from an institution whose moto is “You say monster manual, we say ingredients list.”
But the joke’s on these jokers since we are connoisseurs of Entish blood pudding. But wait, our tormentors say, don’t you at Bugbear BBQ have a policy of not eating sentient creatures? Why yes we do, with one exception, we answer. Then how can you eat ents?!
With anthropology, we answer.
Ents, for people who have been living under Tolkien-free rocks (so, not dwarves), are giant plant-based creatures who serve as shepherds of the forests and have a penchant for sounding a lot like Gimli (look it up). They are slow to act, but are in fact sentient, which does make them technically a sin to eat in our book.
They even sort of look alike if you squint hard enough.
Which is why we take a page from the Maasai tribe in Africa. Since their social standing is predicated on the number of cattle in their herd, they are resistant to killing said herd, which means they drink a lot of milk since it’s a replenishing resource derived from their cattle.
As is blood.
Yeah, let that realization sink (and soak) in, and then, with that image in mind, let’s make some blood sausage from sentient trees!
Despite their slow natures, it’s still never a good idea to just walk up to an ent and start harvesting their blood, which also moves as slowly as molasses in winter. One must first get permission from said ent, which can be an exceptionally long-drawn-out encounter as you laboriously explain your goal, they finally understand, and then give consent. I’ve found that stating you need their blood to save the life of a loved one works quite well. And it’s not technically a lie since my wife once swore she would die if she did not receive some ent blood sausage.
Procuring the ent blood is also terribly slow and about as fun as harvesting sap for syrup. In fact, it’s exactly like harvesting sap, except the tree in question keeps making eye contact. Which, we have to admit, is pretty awkward.
Always make sure the spigot is in an entish artery and not a pre-existing orifice. That mistake is... messy.
We love ourselves breakfast sausage, and have been known to go Big Mista’s style of fatty, which consists of breakfast sausage cut in two, rubbed, then smoked until mouthwatering. However, since ent blood sausage is more of a syrupy meatloaf than a real sausage, there is no rub, rather a smattering of allspice and pepper. Throw a chopped onion, three cups of cooked steel-cut oats, and two cups milk with your ent blood into a loaf pan, and you’ve got yourself all the ingredients you need for a bland sandwich, which is also pronounced blandwich.
Toss it into the oven at 325 for an hour and you’ve got yourself the basic loaf… er, blood sausage. Just lop of a piece, fry it up, and it’s good to go.
And yes, we realize this cook seems rather slapdash and fairly uninspired, but what type of vegetarian fair did you expect from people whose secondary motto is “Meeting monsters then meating monsters.”
Sauces, Sides, and Pairings
Sauces are pretty much the dripping of whatever you’re pairing it with. Like all blood sausages, it’s usually served during an Irish breakfast. With all the meat ingredients taken out, that leaves us with baked beans, mushrooms, eggs and tomatoes. This is then topped off with tea and coffee.
Or you can just go straight for the Guinness if you want the low hanging fruit punchline. Us, we usually reach for the whiskey.